#the name harvest inspired those

[nereidprinc3ss]

haunted

in which spencer reid takes you to a haunted house and you're being very brave about it... sort of.

fluff! warnings/tags: reader wears a skirt, reader is a scaredy cat!!, established relationship, kithing, my favs derek and penelope featured, haunted house stuff, talk about the physical composition of human eyeballs and mentions of harvesting them/eating them but it's not serious, FAKE very fake Halloween gore, I know those tags just escalated so quickly my bad, mention of a spooky clown, just haunted house stuff ok!! but its really not a scary fic I promise!!!! a/n: this is for my bff @gublersg1rl !!!! I hope u all like!!!!! Also yes the title was extremely creative I was feeling divinely inspired and revolutionary let’s not talk abt it

“Okay, no, no—maybe we don’t have to go in. I don’t think it’s gonna be that good.”

As you say it you’re wearily eyeing the crowd of screaming teenagers who are sprinting from the haunted house attraction’s exit, leaving a trail a swirling leaves and candy wrappers in their wake. Spencer laughs, gently hugging you back to him as you subconsciously begin to drift away from the line. 

“I knew this would happen.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“You’re scared. You want to chicken out.”

“I don’t,” you snap, stepping back and adjusting your sweater. “I’m just… I’m cold. I wanna go back to the car.” Spencer does some adjustments of his own, coming close and reaching around you as if going in for a hug but instead tugging your skirt down slightly in the back. You let him finish and then bat his hand away. “Would you stop that?”

“You said you were cold! I’m trying to help you.”

“By making my skirt one inch longer? That’s not going to help.”

He holds his hands up defensively. “Okay. Sorry. I won’t touch.”

Immediately your serrated edge is dulled and you lean against him, barely steering clear of a pout. “No, please. You’re warm. And you’ll protect me.”

He smiles down at you, cheeks and nose nipped sweet pink by the chilly breeze. His hair looks very nice today, his eyes are extra sparkly in the dark, and he’s framed by mostly bare tree branches scattered around the fairground—nothing more than dark palms clawing at the sky, a full white moon cradled in between black branches. The autumnal night is perhaps too cold for the tartan mini skirt you’d chosen, but Spencer told you it looked nice. Of course he doesn’t put up a fight when you slip your arms around his waist under his coat—only wraps his arms around you in return.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect you. But between us Derek and Penelope will bear the brunt of the jump scares.”

“Who said my name?”

You look over your shoulder to where Penelope is shivering despite wearing her own and Derek’s coat, and Derek is eyeing the two of you, enjoying a bag of caramel corn like he doesn’t have a care in the world. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Spencer says, and you laugh to yourself, pulling him even closer like you’re trying to leech the warmth from his body. “Okay, you do have to face forward though. I don’t want you to trip.”

“No, Spencer!” You argue, but he’s already unlatching your arms from his middle and turning you in place. 

“You’re fine,” he chuckles, holding onto your hips. “I’m right here. Be brave.”

The line has begun to move forward again, and this time, it’s not stopping. Your heart pounds as at the behest of a teenaged bloody scarecrow you follow Derek and Penelope into the dark mouth of the red clapboard facade—a sort of farmhouse design that had seemed charming from afar and deeply sinister up close. Speakers play a loud creaking sound over spooky music and your eyes slowly adjust to reveal a foggy corridor lined with doors and creepy paintings.

As soon as the first evil little girl pops out of a doorway, you scream right along with Penelope. 

“Oh, my god,” Spencer laughs under his breath as you stop dead in your tracks, holding the group behind you up. When Penelope and Derek move on, you stay stuck, knowing that the threat has disappeared for the moment but still looms. Spencer gently ushers you forward. “Stay close behind Penelope, and it won’t be as scary. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“I hate this so much.”

But he ignores your comment, guiding you forward down the shadowy hallway and whispering the beginnings of a tangent over your shoulder. 

“You know, the first haunted house attraction was in London in 1915 at a fairground just like this. They picked up in America during the Great Depression as an attempt to distract young hooligans from resorting to property damage for fun.”

“Hooligans?” You mutter, teasing him even while terrified, carefully eyes the suspicious staircase leading up to a fenced in landing, shrouded in darkness. “We’re not going up there, are we?”

Just then a man with a sack over his head and bloody axe emerges from the black, launching himself down the stairs. Again, you scream, this time sprinting out of Spencer’s hold and through a cobweb veil into the next room. 

“Jesus fuck!” You gasp, clutching your chest as someone made up to be a sweet old grandma gone mad and soaked in blood and viscera turns around to greet you with a manic grin. 

“Oh, a pretty girl! Is that you, dear? My long lost granddaughter? Or did I put her in a pie?”

The acting is subpar at best, the script even worse, but what really discomforts you are the bloodied rubber limbs swinging from the ceiling and the fog machine in the corner that keeps burping out thick white clouds with a little hiss. You turn around, running directly into Spencer’s chest. He catches you by the waist and you cling to him, digging your feet in to try and stop either of you from proceeding any closer to your new friend. 

“And your lover—so handsome! Mm, what a delicious pairing you two’ll make! Maybe in my specialty cream of eyeball soup?”

She cackles. Spencer pushes you carefully forward as you peer over his lapel, and he actually stops to look into the woman’s pot as she stirs it. 

“Spencer—”

“You know—the human eyeball is by all accounts difficult to harvest without essentially popping the outer wall of muscle and connective tissue and then you’re losing the structure of the sphere—and stop me if you know this—but water constitutes about 98 percent of vitreous and aqueous humor which in turn make up eighty percent of the total volume of the eye so to say your soup would be cream of eyeball is—”

“Buddy, you’re holding up the line!” Someone shouts from behind, and Spencer offers an awkward apology to the grandma who was beginning to look more and more uncomfortable, hurrying you along through the kitchen from hell. 

“I cannot believe you just did that,” you hiss, still clinging to him. “That poor woman probably thinks you’re a serial killer now.”

“I was trying to humanize her for your benefit—”

Another scream from someone else, another cheap jump scare, cuts him off, and by this point you have your eyes squeezed shut, squeaking at every noise, and Spencer is damn near carrying you through the haunted house, walking you awkwardly backward through the various rooms. 

He cradles the back of your head and presses his lips to your ear as a chainsaw revs somewhere nearby and you hear Derek and Penelope yelping just ahead. “You’re being so brave,” Spencer murmurs, though you don’t miss the smile in his voice. "If I was a malevolent spectre I would definitely steer clear of you. I'd be too intimidated."

“Shut up. Ah!”

“Baby, that was a plant. You know the actors can’t touch you, right? You’re not in any danger.”

“I don’t like being scared, Spencer.”

“Then why did you suggest the haunted house? I said we should do the maze.”

“I don’t know! I—” another man popping out of the wall, another roar that you only hear, sequestered safely against your boyfriend’s coat. “Oh my god, are we almost done? I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yeah, the entrance is right ahead. No more actors, okay? I can see the whole room, it’s totally empty.”

“I bet that's what they want you to think, they lull you into a false sense of security and then—”

Cold air kisses the back of your legs as Spencer walks you toward the door, and the stifled soundscape widens again as you exit the house breathing air that doesn’t smell like sawdust and fog machine juice and fake blood. 

“Nope. We're really all done, see?”

“You survived! Oh my god, I survived!” Penelope calls, and you lift your head from Spencer’s chest, looking up at him. He’s grinning, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. 

“You honestly handled that better than I thought you would. I actually think I saw the guy dressed as a clown jump when you screamed.”

“If I ever say I wanna do something scary again please don’t listen to me. I hated that so much.”

He examines your face for a moment before determining that despite your rattled nerves, you’ll be okay, and comforts you with a quick peck. “Do you wanna go get caramel apples now?”

“Yes, please. And then can we do the maze, and just like—I don’t know, sit there and… meditate for a little while?”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Just… don’t think about what could be lurking in the corn.”

You give him a little shove. “You know, I only did that haunted house thing because I know how much you love Halloween. I’m being a good girlfriend and what do I get?”

He pulls you close again and kisses your hand. 

“You get a caramel apple,” he says, like it’s obvious, and more than that—worth every trouble in the world. “Come on.”

You give him a begrudging smile and allow him to lead you, hand in hand. Maybe it is. 

[goldsbitch]

My name

Busy schedules don't allow Y/N and her boyfriend Lando Norris much down time to chill with her friends. But missing a wedding is a no go.

fluffy fluff, wedding, one shot, for the vibes only

It was almost a stroke of luck that Y/N's friends managed to pick a date for their wedding on a day that Lando could attend. This was a rare opportunity, while she accompanied him often during his events or outings, more than often he was unable to be there as her partner on her personal affairs.

Missed family gatherings, friends birthdays and grill parties. She accepted that part of their relationship, with the hope that in the future, it might come to change. They'd been dating for two years now - if she had to pick the brightest days of her life so far, it would in this time frame.

There was lot of excitement in the late summer air. One of her best friends was marrying a guy she became good buddy with over the years. And Lando would finally be joining her, as her partner. No more half smiles following the question "Would Lando join us this time?". These two friends marrying each other were a nice inspiration for the kind of relationship Y/N strived for. And Lando was that for her - a partner, lover, friend and the one to always make her laugh. But some of the people in her life were not convinced that he was good for her, mainly for the lack of his presence. She did not want the opinions of other to spoil their relationship. However, it would be a lie to say that her heart wasn't jumping around with happiness at the prospect of having him join them.

Her friends organized their dream wedding in a lovely estate somewhere in South of France. Small village remote from any city, safe from any prying eyes. It was refreshing from the flashing lights of racing tracks. Eighty people, all mostly friends with each other.

Y/N came in earlier with the main couple, in order to help them put everything in place. Two days of hard work navigating typical struggled of wedding organizing, with tomorrow being the big day. Regular guest were coming in, but she was only waiting for him, counting every minute.

Those prep days were packed with dealing with logistics and all this wedding usually concern. Going back and forth and trying to make everything perfect for the main event. But, she manages to find a moment of solutide to take in the beauty, the smell of late harvest, sun kissed valleys and heavy summer air, that set everything in. Having the bottom of your dress shiver with light breeze is the epitome of bliss. Life was good. And for the main part, she would get to experience all this with her love around her arm.

//

The two getting married? They were something else.

"Babe, what the fuck are these glasses?" said the bride to be as she watched the caterers setting up table for an evening dinner buffet.

"Well, you said yes, to them, remember? Back in May," was how the groom replied hastily. Y/N watched, knowing well enough that the strange looking glasses that were too big for her friends small hands were definitely not what the bride would have picked. She smirked as she watched them bicker playfully.

"They look like some futuristic ashtrays," the bride continued, shooting arrows playfully at he soon to be husband.

"Hm. Isn't that cool?" he said, trying to talk himself out of it. They were both strong opinionated people, so this was not a rare debate.

"No? How do you think this suits our late summer garden vibe?" she said, pointing around to the fields.

"You said yes to them, I remember specifically..." he defended without a beat.

"My mom's going to think we smoke."

"Well...we could use them as ashtrays," he said, inspecting the items.

The bride threw her hands up, not believing the game her "soon to be" was playing. "Babe, we don't smoke!"

He mimicked her hand gesture ironically. "We could start!"

"Just admit you've made a fuck up, honey, and we're good."

"That will never happen. This is all part of the plan."

Y/N observed and chucked, knowing well enough that the best thing to do was to stay out of their way.

A small quiet whisper came from behind Y/N. "Is this how they always act?" Shiver down her spine. She smiled, because she could recognize that voice anywhere. Heard it thousand times in the morning, in the middle of a busy day and on too many late night phone call to count. She turned her head slightly only to find him standing right behind her, his head now resting on her shoulder.

"Hi, muppet," he continued as he wrapped his hands around her, hugging her from behind. "I'm sorry I am a little late. Turbulences held us up."

The two stood there, as young lovers would. Completely wrapped in their own world.

"Did they? I completely lost track, as you see, big problems over here," she said and pointed inconspicuously to the couple still bickering about glasses. It wasn't technically true, she managed to get her phone out every other minute as they were unpacking stuff. But that was too embarrassing to admit.

She finally turned around to give him a welcome kiss, a much needed physical contact after not seeing him for almost three weeks. "Do you think we could take a walk around the garden? I would to get my head clear before facing other people," he said sheepishly. The last few race weekends had been very tough on him.

"I would be more than happy," she replied with a smile.

The scenery was too good to be true. Never ending fields of trees, heavy air sitting on the top of everyone trying to breathe and smell of hot soil and dried leaves cut though it all. They walked hand in hand in silence for a while, the sound of cracking branches accompanying them with every step. These two had spoken a lot in the past few weeks, every day it was either a phone call of few videos shared mapping their separate days. Texting was not good enough for these two. Lando was pretty much touch starved. Even though he was touched by random people more than an average person would be, as some fans felt like it was ok to do so. It made him miss the consensual touch he shared with his girlfriend more than ever. Girlfriend was an interesting word, felt outdated for the feelings he had for her. A small box had been accompanying him whenever he saw her for a while now. But he figured that highjacking someone else's wedding with his own proposal was a bit rude and selfish. He was grateful that this time he did not bring the box with him, as he was not sure he'd be able to resist proposing when he saw how the light reflected from her hair made it all shine, like a fresh jar of honey. A white dress would definitely suit her and his last name as well. He knew she'd want to keep her maiden name too and was more than fine with that. But to add "Norris" behind it was his ultimate goal.

"You seem more quiet than usual," she asked after a moment, being more than capable of reading his face. He was slowly letting go of his stress from the races.

"I'm loosing myself in the thoughts about your dress," he replied cheekily, letting her think he is talking about the teal summer dress she was wearing at the moment.

"Are you, now?" she winked and pulled her dress up slightly, only stopping at her bikini line.

"Oh, you can't do that to me," he said, defeated.

"You sure?" She stopped walking, came closer to him and put her arms around his neck. "But it's been so long since you've touched me," she added, knowing this will set him off. Teasing and seducing him was like a second language to her. She got real close and rubbed her core against his crotch.

"You're asking for trouble, Ms....Y/L/N," he gulped, nearly having a Freudian slip there. He panicked slightly and decided to kiss her immediately. She didn't seem to notice. Once he calmed down a bit he slid his hand down to he legs and the went back up to cup her ass and pulling her dress up again. "I would have you right here and now," he mumbled into their kiss and she smiled. Absolutely in love.

"We'll have to wait until the evening, we have a very nice room..."

"I don't care about that, I want to cum into you right here and now," he continued and bit her upper lip lightly.

"Anyone could walk by," she kept resisting.

"As if I care."

She laughed and broke their kiss. "We have to go now. I still have to help the poor bride with the decorations."

He signed overly dramatically. "You are making my life a living hell, Y/N."

"You can punish me later," she ended and got out of his embrace and started heading back to the estate. "Come on," she instructed as Lando watched her ass as she walked away. Norris. It's going to suit her.

//

Evening marked shared laughter, catching up with many friends, local wine with cheese and hands held under the table. Only once it was really happening did Y/N started to notice how much she needed this. Being able to "show" Lando off to her friends for longer than a short appearance. They got to finally know him, not only listen to stories about him. Oh and he was marvelous that evening. Charming, funny, criminally handsome - and always by her side. He was happy to be there. One of the reason being finally able to listen to the people she spoke about, but also to let loose and not have to think about what he says. These were no sponsors, interviewers or teammates. He loved that they cared about her more than him. It was a nice change. And he was on board with that, enjoying the fact that she was the star and not him.

//

The wedding day had swung by in a blur and suddenly, Y/N and Lando were sitting in a small local chapel, watching her friends making a mark on their relationship.

But Lando was not watching them. He was watching his now girlfriend. With the sight he had in the corner of his eye, the thoughts hanging in the back of his mind were getting louder and louder.

The ceremony was a non serious and cheerful one, the priest making many jokes while still keeping the atmosphere together. As far as ceremonies go, this was an honest one. The only thing to bring people out the holy romantic vibe this gave off was an unapologetically explicit kiss the bride and groom shared as they got wed. It was more like watching drunk teenagers make out. Some people laughed, some people cheered and the rest were slightly mortified. Y/N was one of the people to turn their heads away from the sight, she had known this girl ever since they were kids, this was a little too much. Lando found her reaction amusing, as he had heard many stories of her and her friend to know that she'd witnessed way more extreme things. "Look at you, prude," he whispered to her ear as he watched the bride and groom fight with their tongues.

"I refuse to accept this," Y/N said, keeping it up with the grandmas in the room.

"Well, if this repulses you, then I'm afraid you're going to die of embarrassment at our wedding," he said as if it was no big deal. But to Y/N it was. They had joked about marriage few times, but Lando used a different tone of voice this time. But she had been secretly dreaming about it for a while now.

"You're going to have tie me down if you're planning on doing that," she said, pointing at the pair, not quite sure how to process that he was probably thinking about their marriage too.

"So far, you've never said no to my plans," he winked at her.

Y/N smiled and turned her eyes to the ground. If someone had asked why she smiled so much, she'd say it was because of her friend's wedding. Though it would only be one half of the truth. She held his hand, as they walked out of the church. For some reason, it almost felt like a rehearsal.

[leftoverpages]

Beneath Weirwood's Shade

Pairing 𓅪 Benjicot "Davos" Blackwood × Bracken!reader

Tags 𓅪 forbidden love, romance, angst

Notes: inspired by romeo and juliet

Wordcount 𓅪 1.2k

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated!

The ancient trees of the Riverlands whispered secrets to those who cared to listen. Their leaves, drenched in the gold of a setting sun, sighed with the weight of countless generations. In this land of ancient enmities and whispered feuds, House Blackwood and House Bracken stood opposed, their enmity as deep-rooted as the forests that surrounded them.

Beneath the sprawling branches of a towering weirwood, where the heart tree's face wept red sap, Benjicot Blackwood waited. His dark eyes, pools of sorrow and longing, flickered towards the distance. His heart, though hardened by the years of familial hatred, beat with an unyielding fervor for you, the light amidst his shadows.

You, a Bracken, the sworn enemy, the forbidden fruit. A love like yours was bound to secrecy, hidden beneath the shroud of night and the veil of danger. The thought of you filled his every waking moment, and his dreams were haunted by your touch, your smile, the gentle cadence of your voice.

From the shadows, you emerged, cloaked in the twilight, a figure of ethereal beauty and tragic grace. The world seemed to hold its breath as you approached, each step a defiance against the legacy of hate that threatened to tear you both apart.

"Ben," you whispered, your voice a soft symphony that danced through the air. He turned, and in his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own soul—tortured, yet unwavering in its love.

"My love," he murmured, closing the distance between you. His hand found yours, and in that touch, a silent promise was exchanged. "Every moment away from you is an eternity of pain."

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you pressed your forehead against his, the world around you dissolving into the backdrop of your shared sorrow and joy. "We cannot keep meeting like this, Benjicot. The risk grows with each passing day."

His grip tightened, desperation seeping into his voice. "I would rather die a thousand deaths than live a single day without you. We are bound by more than blood and duty; our souls are entwined, and no force on earth can sever that bond."

"Then let us run away," you pleaded, your voice breaking. "To a place where Blackwood and Bracken are just names, where we can be free to love without fear."

Benjicot's heart ached with the weight of your words, the tantalizing dream of a life together pulling at his every resolve. But reality was a cruel mistress. "I fear there is no such place, my love. Our names, our histories, they follow us like shadows."

A shuddering breath escaped you, and you clung to him, seeking solace in his warmth. "Then let us cherish the moments we have, however fleeting. Let us defy the stars that conspire against us and carve our own fate, even if only for a night."

The weirwood watched over you, a silent sentinel to your stolen time. Beneath its ancient boughs, you and Benjicot found a sanctuary, a fragile haven in a world determined to tear you apart. You spoke in hushed tones, of dreams unfulfilled and love everlasting, your words a tapestry of hope and despair.

In the heart of the forest, time seemed to stand still. You and Benjicot lay on a blanket of fallen leaves, your hands intertwined, your hearts beating as one. The night sky above was a canopy of stars, each one a silent witness to your forbidden love.

"You remember the first time we met?" Benjicot's voice was a mere whisper, his fingers tracing the delicate lines of your hand.

You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. "How could I forget? It was at the harvest festival. I saw you across the field, and for a moment, it felt like the world stopped."

He chuckled softly, the sound like a balm to your soul. "I remember thinking that you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. But when I found out you were a Bracken, my heart sank."

"And yet, here we are," you said, your voice tinged with wonder and sadness. "Despite everything, we found each other."

Benjicot turned to face you, his eyes filled with a fierce, unspoken promise. "No matter what happens, I will always find you. In this life and the next, we are meant to be together."

The hours slipped away, and dawn's light began to creep over the horizon. With a heavy heart, you knew your time together was drawing to a close. You stood, reluctant to break the fragile spell that had bound you both.

"Until we meet again," Benjicot whispered, pulling you into a final, lingering embrace. "Remember, my love, that you are my heart, my soul, my everything."

You held him close, memorizing the feel of his arms around you, the scent of his hair, the warmth of his breath against your skin. "And you, Ben, are my hope, my dream, my forever."

With one last, lingering kiss, you parted, each step away from each other a dagger to the heart. But even in the face of inevitable sorrow, you carried a piece of each other, a love that transcended the bounds of feuding houses and cruel fate.

In the days that followed, you returned to your separate lives, each day a painful reminder of the love you could not openly share. You exchanged secret letters, hidden within the folds of cloaks and beneath the roots of ancient trees, your words a lifeline that sustained you through the darkest of times.

But as the tensions between your houses escalated, the danger grew ever closer. Whispers of war and betrayal filled the air, and you knew that the time would come when you would have to make a choice—between duty and love, between loyalty to your family and the call of your heart.

One fateful night, the shadows deepened and the air grew heavy with foreboding. A message reached you, written in Benjicot's hand, its words a stark warning: "Meet me at the weirwood. Our time is running out."

Fear and desperation clutched at your heart as you made your way to the ancient tree, your every step a prayer for his safety. When you arrived, you found him waiting, his face pale and drawn, his eyes filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own.

"My love," he said, his voice a broken whisper. "There is no time. Our families are on the brink of war. We must leave, now, before it is too late."

You nodded, your resolve hardening even as your heart ached. "Together, then. We will face whatever comes, as long as we are together."

With a final, desperate embrace, you turned and fled into the night, leaving behind the only world you had ever known. The forest closed in around you, its shadows a refuge and a promise.

As dawn broke over the Riverlands, the ancient weirwood stood silent, its branches swaying gently in the breeze. In its heartwood, the echoes of your love remained, a testament to the power of a love that dared to bloom amidst the thorns of hatred and the shadows of despair.

You and Benjicot, bound by love and fate, ventured into the unknown, your hearts beating as one. The road ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and peril, but as long as you were together, you knew you could face anything.

In the annals of history, the names Blackwood and Bracken would be forever linked by strife. Yet, in the hidden corners of the Riverlands, beneath the ancient weirwood tree, the whispers of your love would linger, a testament to the power of a love that defied the stars and dared to reach for eternity.

[frannyzooey]

devour (the entire universe)

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: E (additional warnings: harvesting violence, mentions of gore and blood, mentions of cannibalism, love as consumption and all the visuals that come with it, so much fucking and filth and ass play and cum eating it isn’t funny)

My submission for the @pedrostories Secret Santa event, my giftee is @wannab-urs ❤ Merry Christmas, my lovely!

I was so excited when I was given your name (!!) - I absolutely love seeing you on my dash. I tried to take as many things from your list as possible, but the prompt "love as consumption" really inspired this piece. Having never written anything like this before, I really, really hope you like it. A million thank yous to @hier--soir who beta'ed this for me and also gave me the best inspiration and guidance - I couldn't have done it without them. Thank you also to @bageldaddy who put up with my terrible spelling and who always reminds me, in the best way, that less is more ❤

--

CYCLE ONE

The first time you saw him, he stumbled into the field you were working in.  Your head snapping up at the sound of someone coming through the grass, you observed each other for a moment, each of your throwers raised. 

“Now this is something I have never seen in all my time in The Green,” he said. “A little girl.”

Immediately bristling, indignation flashed across your face underneath the glass dome of your helmet. You resented being called that - a little girl. The open prejudice against women harvesters was well known and there was something about his tone that felt mocking in a way you loathed, so you didn’t even dignify his statement with an answer. 

Instead, you held your ground. 

The two of you locked in a silent standoff, he took you in with a tilt of his helmet, assessing the threat you posed. You did the same, taking in his battered yellow suit, his lithe but broad frame. 

Eventually, he lifted his hands in acquiescence and turned, disappearing back into the thick vegetation. 

“A little girl,” you muttered angrily to yourself. Gouging your shovel into the rough soil, you sneered at the remembrance of his tone – as if he was taken aback by your presence. As if you didn’t belong here. 

Three weeks later, you understood the marvel in his initial statement. 

A woman an anomaly on the Green, others saw you as an easy target. Strong-armed out of your gems for the third time in weeks, other harvesters used brute force against your own smaller frame. Repeatedly forcing you into submission, you started to hate both them and yourself; the cruel environment and even crueler inhabitants bending you until you almost broke. 

It was at this point that he stumbled upon you again: only this time, he offered himself to your aid. 

Impressed by your tenacity, he suggested a partnership: your nimble fingers paired with his protection. 

Sitting in the dirt with your suit torn and your case gone, you knew it was foolish to reject his offer of protection, but you did it anyway. 

Both of you knew it was pride talking.

He crouched down in front of you, bringing you face to face. “I don’t see you have much of a choice. Or perhaps you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

You narrowed your eyes in stubbornness. “What’s in it for you?”

He shrugged. “A companion.”

You stiffened, and he shook his head. “Not that sort of companion.” His eyes raked over your form, as if he could see anything under your bulky suit, coming back to your face with a raise of his eyebrows. “Unless you’re interested?”

Your face hardened. “Not a chance. Protection only. Even split.”

He thought for a moment, his face suddenly transforming into something amenable.

“Of course.”

CYCLE TWO

At first, you hated him. 

Couldn’t stand the way he was always talking in that drawl of his, always spewing those endless sentences filled with nonsensical words and even less content. You had come to the Green to work alone in silence, after all. A concept he seemed to despise, given the way he wouldn’t fucking shut up. 

Attempting to ignore his ceaseless talking in the days that followed, you thought all the time about breaking the partnership - especially when you saw just how deceiving he could be with those words of his. It was a resource, you reasoned, to have that type of deception on your side, but what was stopping him from deceiving you? Constantly questioning his true allegiance, you kept your guard up – until the fourth time someone tried to take what was yours. 

He killed them. 

No hesitation, no negotiating. Calculated yet with a glimpse of something feral underneath that flashed in his dark eyes with every plunge of his harvesting knife into the man’s chest, you held your breath as you watched him take out the threat. Your form was frozen, the heavy grunts of his struggle echoing through your helmet. 

Chest heaving and fist gripping a blade covered in thick, dark blood when he rose, his breathing sounded heavy and labored through the radio. His deep voice crackled through, pulling you from your fog. 

“It’s okay, Birdie. Keep digging.”

CYCLE THREE 

Sharing a tent for logistical reasons, you had to get used to his…proximity. 

The careless way he discarded his clothes around the small space, the constant crinkle of Bits Bars. The way he changed his clothes in front of you whether or not you averted your gaze. His scent that clung to everything in that tent: the thin pillow and blanket he gave you, the towels you dried yourself with, the clothing he lent you to sleep in. 

Unused to having anyone in his presence, he was careless with his body and trying to give him some privacy (that he didn’t seem to want, nor need) you strained your eyes attempting not to look at his tanned skin every time he bared it. His body littered with evidence of survival, you wanted to touch every line of puckered skin with your fingertips just to see how it felt. 

Attraction due to proximity, is what you told yourself. 

Imagining the texture and heat of his skin, obsessing about the way his tongue peeked out to dart at his top lip when he was deep in concentration, staring at the size of his hands as he worked to daydream about how filling his fingers would feel inside you. The images haunted your every waking moment, and you tried to ignore them all, including the sleep thick mumbles that left his plush lips while he was dreaming at night. 

The intimate sound drove you mad with arousal, even though you assumed they were nightmares that plagued him…until the sounds changed into something more desperate. Until he said your name, his hips shifting on his cot with intent. 

Your pulse pounding in the dark, you slipped your hand beneath your waistband and delved your fingers deep into the silken wetness that greeted you. 

Swirling, swirling, swirling, you joined him in his dreams. 

CYCLE FOUR

Everything about your dynamic changed when he lost his arm. 

Used to him being confidence brimming over, he turned into something else. Sullen, quiet. The silence you once craved too foreign to be comfortable, you tried to coax him out. 

“You seem like you’ve been doing this a long time. Tell me about it.” 

“How long have you been on your own? How many planets have you harvested on?”

“How did you get that blonde streak in your hair, is it a birthmark or something?”

Slowly inching yourself into the hole he’d lowered himself into, you settled in next to him, curling yourself into his still side. 

Diving deep inside him to find the self-confidence you knew was buried deep, you cradled it carefully, nurturing it back to life. You modified his throwers for one armed use, stitched up the sleeve of his jumpsuit so it would stop flapping in the wind, helped him practice fighting techniques to learn a new way of throwing his lean strength around. When he had a setback in his healing, you bartered for more juice all on your own. 

Carefully soaking his stump, he had avoided your gaze the whole time – or tried to, but you wouldn’t let him. 

“Hey,” you murmured, his chin cupped in your hand. His dark eyes lifted to yours, and you held his gaze. “We’re still partners, right?”

He huffed in disgust, looking away. “A one armed man is of little benefit to you.”

“I decide what’s beneficial to me,” you challenged, the fierceness in your tone forcing the edge of his lips to tug up. 

He said nothing as his eyes searched your face and you considered how this must be for him – a reversal of roles, an independent creature like him used to coming out on top. Scrambling and clawing and fighting for it, sure – only this time he lost, and with it, everything he knew.

Except you. 

“I need you,” you said, reaching for his whiskered cheek to guide his face back to yours. “Partners. You and me, okay?”

“If you’d still have me, Birdie,” he offered, nodding in confirmation. “You and me.”

CYCLE FIVE

The first time you kissed, you were both drunk – and you did a lot more than kissing. 

For a man still getting used to one arm, he fucked you senseless. 

A bottle of…something found on the body of another harvester who saw Ezra’s missing arm and tried to take advantage, the two of you drank it in its entirety next to the still body left in the fight’s wake. Stumbling back to your tent with warmth spreading through your limbs to pool between your thighs, he saw your aching, restless want and matched it with his own. 

Insatiable, filthy, depraved: you thought his inhibitions were gone along with the contents of the bottle, but it turns out he never had any. 

Helmets tossed and clothes torn from each other’s bodies, his fingers left bruising marks in their wake paired with the ones pounded into the inside of your thighs from his rough thrusts that shifted the cot along the floor. He swallowed your guttural moans before matching them with his own, his teeth biting into the soft, pliant flesh that he found under the rough exterior of your suit. 

Riddled with the marks of his desire, he watched you ride him until you cried out his name and then made you sit on his face, licking his own spend out from inside you. 

Never stopping until you begged him for reprieve, he only let you sleep an hour before waking you up to do it all over again. 

He fucked you anywhere you were willing to be fucked after that: in broad daylight against the hull of an abandoned pod, bent over his cot with his dirty t-shirt stuffed into your mouth, right in the loose soil of a dig once. 

Introducing you to so much more than you had experience with, he drew every debased fantasy out of you, and then made it come true with his fingers, mouth and cock. Wondering where he’d even learned the things he knew, he regaled you with more tales of his travels, only this time he told you about the interactions of a different kind. 

A brothel, specializing in bondage. 

A woman who had trained her gag reflex, and then bringing in a friend, had shown Ezra how to train his as well. 

A bounty hunter once, who refused to take off his helmet. 

“It was thrilling, not being able to see his face,” he mused, a delighted smile stretching his cheeks. “He came more than anyone I have ever been with. Filled my mouth full of his milky desire.” 

He stopped there with a fond expression, lost in reminiscing. 

“Sounds like you don’t need me anymore,” you teased. “You should go find your tall drink of bounty hunter, and –”

A smirk graced his face, and he rolled you onto your back to settle above you. “I love my gems golden colored, but I love them green as well.” He winked. “Come now, my envious Birdie. I’ll always need you.”

CYCLE TEN

You learned to move as one - both inside the tent and out. 

Alone for months, you shifted with each others every movement, as if your bodies were connected just like the frequency of your helmets. Every tell of his showed plain through his suit, every mood shift of yours was met with a lift of his eyebrow. 

Every beat of time spent in the presence of one another all merged and blended into one timeline: before, and after Ezra. 

Before, there was insignificance, and after, there was only him. 

Love seemed too simple a word, too small for what you felt. You shared a heartbeat, a body, a mind — something more than just love. It was crushing and all consuming, something that took root deep inside you and branched out to connect with his own limbs. You needed a better word than love to describe your devotion. 

Something that dripped in reverence and coated your tongue just like he did. 

“Have you ever cared for someone so much you wanted to consume them? Swallow a piece of them whole, to keep within you forever?”

Love as consumption, he called it. 

You were used to his musings by now, the knowledge that he’d gathered over a lifetime of travels pouring out of his generous, plush mouth. Your bodies squeezed together on his cot, your skin was bare and sweat damp with exertion, your limbs intertwined with his. “There is something romantic about it, don’t you think? Wanting their body within yours.”

“Your body is already within mine nearly every night,” you teased, and he pinched the tip of your nose, grinning. 

“Too true, little bird. Too true.” His face shifted from playful to something subdued. “But you know what I mean.”

“Is that what you want me to do?” Your thumb traced a line across his eyebrow, your fingers seeking out the patch of white in his hairline just above.  “Want me to slice a piece of you off and eat it?”

He ignored the grimace on your face. “Which part of me would you choose?”

The question was phrased in such a way that you could tease him again, but you knew he wanted a real answer, not a playful one. 

“Well…” you thought, lacing your fingers with his to bring them to your mouth. “I have always loved these. But to leave you with any less fingers would just be cruel.”

He huffed a laugh, his eyes fixed on the way your mouth molded around his knuckles as you gave them a kiss. Letting go, your touch drifted to dance along the blunt edge of his stump.

“Maybe a piece from here?”

He frowned. “You’d take even more from me, in a place I am already lacking?”

Your voice dropped an octave, your own expression turning solemn. “It was horrible, what we had to do. I hate thinking about it: the weight of your arm as it dropped away, the pain you were in.” You found his dark eyes, holding his gaze as you stroked the puckered flesh. “I want to carve a piece out right here, just to rewrite the memory of it. A gift from you to me, rather than something I took.”

“You took nothing that I did not beg you to take.”

The double meaning in his words – like all of them – wasn’t lost on either of you. 

“Only you would make amputation sound so romantic.”

He smiled, and you dug your fingers into the firm round of his shoulder, pulling his body to lie on top of yours. Cradled safely between your plush thighs, his hips immediately rocked forward with intent. 

His head dipped to nuzzle his nose against your own. “It’s easy to be a romantic with a muse such as you.”

Catching him with a kiss, your lips locked as he slid his tongue inside the wet cavern of your mouth and you breathed him in, winding your arms around his neck to keep him in place. Your fingers slid up through the crown of his mussed, shortly cropped hair and he relaxed on top of you, deepening the kiss. 

“I would give you my arm if I could.” 

You whispered your confession as his mouth covered your pulse with a harsh suck, and whined when he answered with a sharp bite: his incisors pinching your delicate flesh. His hot breath ghosted humid over your skin as he searched for another spot, biting down on the other side of your slim neck. 

Arching underneath him, you continued. “I would cut it off and give it to you.” 

He found the tender underside of your breast, catching it between his teeth and groaned, soothing the bite with a broad sweep of his tongue before continuing down the plane of your body. 

“I would give you anything, Ez. Anything.”

Mindless with lust from the sharp edges of his love, you writhed underneath him, hitching your knees higher along his torso. His strong muscles flexed and shifted under the squeeze of your legs, and he forced them open to spread your legs wider. Questing, his mouth sought out the tender skin along the curve of your hip with another bite. 

“Fuck,” you breathed, pushing your fingers through his hair to guide him lower. 

Situating his broad shoulders between your thighs, his mouth devoured.

Wide open to catch everything you gifted him, his tongue slid smoothly through your folds to collect every slip of arousal that dripped out, his throat bobbing with a swallow before going harder. His hunger shifted you up the cot, the lower half of his face buried inside your aching cunt and when his tongue found your clit with a smooth, forceful grind, you shamelessly begged for more. 

“Harder. Eat it harder.”

He growled, his fingers digging into your flesh to tug you tight against his face and a hoarse cry crawled out of your throat – one that broke into an astonished cry when he pulled back just to bite into the plush, smooth skin of your inner thigh. This one drew blood – you could feel the hot slip of it against your skin, his kisses smeared with it. Ignoring the blossoming throb of pain, you asked him to do it again. 

He did, right at the same time he slid two fingers inside you with a filling stretch and joining your hand with his, he rested his cheek on your inner thigh and watched as your fingers breached your slick warmth together. A finger of your own and one of his, then two of your own and two of his - your hands worked together, as they always have. His face right next to the liquid warmth coating the digits, his tongue joined to lap at your clit. 

Obscene sounds filled the small tent: the audible slick sound of your cunt accepting his fingers over and over again, your higher pitched moans blending with his lower ones. Keeping his fingers tucked snugly inside, his mouth lowered down between your cheeks to slide against your asshole and he ate you there with abandon as well, your thighs dropping open wider to give him more room. 

When his mouth found your clit again with a suck, the impulse to be eaten alive by him spread thick and warm through your hips, weighing heavily in your core. Propelled higher and higher with every pump of his fingers, the image of his blood soaked mouth as his teeth tore into your pulse made you pitch forward into your release, your body bowing against the thin cot. 

Breathless and still riding a pulsing wave, you begged him. “Come up here and fuck me.”

He obeyed immediately, letting his weight push the air from your lungs just before his mouth stole the rest. His kisses soaked in desperation, his cock notched thick and stiff at your entrance, and you accepted him within you without any resistance. Fucking you with harsh snaps of his hips, your fingers dug into the meat of his ass and surrounded in his warmth with the light blacked out by his broad frame, your lips found a home on his bicep that flexed taut next to your cheek.

Your body cradled within his, the humid air around you pulsing with life. The rhythmic woosh of his strong heartbeat, the safety you’d feel within the damp darkness, finally joined as one. 

His strokes snapped harder, his own want matching yours. His mouth ached to bite your soft lips, to nibble on the skin until it broke under the force of his love. 

His harvesting knife slipped between his ribs to crack them open, gifting you everything held inside. Feeding you bits and pieces of his heart, watching the muscle that’s only ever beat for you disappear between your lips. 

“Where do you want it, Birdie?” he begged above you, his mouth molding around the hinge of your jaw, tasting the sweet skin there. “I’m gonna come. Shit – shit. Where do you want it?”

“Inside me.”

A shudder slipped through his body as he came with a loud, sated groan, his hips forcing themselves into the cradle of your thighs to bury it as deep as possible – but he wasn’t done. He was never done, when it came to you. Before he could catch his breath, he slid his softening cock from your warmth and replaced it with his fingers, crooking them to gather the milky spend. 

Bringing them up to your mouth, he fed it to you. 

Glistening tendrils of release coated his fingers and your lips, smeared across your tongue when he forced them into your mouth and then sliding them out, he kissed you deeply, savoring your joined taste. He gathered more, this time shifting his touch to the tight ring of your ass and he pushed some in there as well, your hips arched up to accept it. 

Sweat, spend, blood: he consumed them all and likewise fed them to you. Hours slipped by, his appetite for you insatiable: forcing you onto your hands and knees to eat you roughly from behind, filling your ass with his cock before pulling out to spill hot across your lower back, smearing it over your skin like a balm, his fingers tacky with it when he wrapped them around your slender throat and made you take him again. Riding him, your fingers sought out the wet heat of his mouth and he kissed and nibbled on them, before drawing them in with a suck. 

The vast universe outside the tent was a threatening thing: harsh and unforgiving, ruthless and deadly. Inside the tent, tendrils of filthy intimacy surrounded your bodies as you orbited each other, creating your own universe between the sweat damp press of your bodies. 

“You and me,” he breathed under you, his teeth catching on the pads of your fingers and you dropped down, resting your mouth just under the whiskered curve of his jaw. His pulse a rapid beat under the skin, you relished the strength held just under the surface. 

“You and me,” you replied, your mouth opening wide.

[11queensupreme11]

BEELCY BABIES ARE FINALLY HERE!

perfect timing considering the latest chapter lmao. anyway, these kids were a BITCH to find and an even bigger bitch to make. because stupid beel and his stupid self-loathing, he prefers kids with more of percy's features (brown-ish skin, black hair, and sea-green eyes), so i had to edit some of the photos. the quality looks decent on my devices, but i have no idea if it's okay with yours..... i hope to god they look fine for everyone else cuz i don't wanna fix it 💀

some of the more monstrous kids don't have those features tho for obvious reasons lmao. some of the girls just don't have it cuz it was hard for me to change their skin tone since they were like.... purple 💀💀💀

EDIT: changed the pics for rozaltha and ygatha!

Luke - "light-giving" or "giver of light". It is a masculine name of Greek origin. yes, named after luke castellan. beel's sure gonna love that LMAO

Rozaltha (רוֹזָלְתָּה) - Meaning: "The Unholy Bride". Roz (רוֹז) – Rose, beauty. Altha (אַלְתָּה) – Bride, union

Ygatha (יִגָּתָה) – "The Pursuit of Silence". Derived from Yg (to pursue) and Atha (silence, stillness).

Vorvexion – "The One Who Devours Wisdom" . Origin: Vor (consume) and vexion (mind). A demon that consumes the thoughts of the brilliant, leaving them hollow husks. named after anthonius!!!!!

Nephazor - Meaning: "Cloud of Corruption" . Derived from *nepha* (cloud) and *zor* (corruption), symbolizing a demon who spreads moral decay like a shadow.

Ursula - Feminine name of Latin origin that means "little she-bear" or "bear cub". It comes from the Latin word ursa, which means "bear". named after ursula obviously! and yes he's a boy but percy doesn't care, he has tentacles okay, so he's ursula 💀

Sharzumel (שַׁרְזוּמֵל) – "The Web-Spinning Trickster". Inspired by Sharzu (web, net) and Mel (to speak, to charm).

Yoriel (יוֹרִיאֵל) — "God’s Unraveling". Yor (יוֹר) – From יוֹרֵד (yored), meaning "descending" or "falling." El (אֵל) – "God."

Tzammaroth (צַמָּרוֹת) – "Crowned in the Blood of Kings". From Tzamar (crown, adornment) and Moth (death, end).

sorta(?) creature:

Zarabeth - Meaning: "The Barren Harvest". This name implies a being who withers crops and leaves the land desolate, causing famine.

and creatures:

Ardanak (אַרְדָּנַך) – "The Seeker of the Forgotten". A combination of Ard (to seek) and Anak (forgotten, lost).

Azerathiel (אֲזֶרַתְיֵאל) – "The Bloom of Darkness". Derived from Azar (to bloom, to grow) and Athiel (darkness, shadow).

Barekith (בָּרֵכִית) – "The Seeker of Consumption". From Barek (to seek) and Kith (consumption, indulgence).

[badvgopinions]

Apparently some Stardew Valley fans have been discrediting Fields of Mistria fans by claiming that they're just playing a "clone" of "Stardew Valley."

First of all, farming simulators aren't "Stardew Valley clones." Stardew Valley wasn't even close to being the first farming simulator game. If you're going to claim that they're "clones" then they're Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons clones since it set up the standard of the genre since 1996. (Play DS or Friends of Mineral Town and tell me that Stardew Valley didn't take heavy inspiration from those games. Not that it's a bad thing at all, but don't just brush Harvest Moon off as "the game that walked so Stardew Valley can run.")

Of course the entire argument itself is really stupid. They're not "clones" of each other. (Besides technically Harvest Moon* itself. I'll explain later.) They're just in the same genre. But if you're going to make the stupid argument at least get it right so you don't sound as stupid.

It's like saying that Wild Arms is a Final Fantasy clone for having similar turn-based RPG mechanics.

*What's known as "Harvest Moon" today actually is pretty much just a clone. Marvelous used Natsume to translate their games up until after A New Beginning for the 3DS before switching to XSeed. (Probably because Natsume is really, really bad at it. I'm surprised they didn't switch after DS which how bad they fucked the first versions of that game up.)

When translated to English the game's series would literally be something like "Ranch Story." Natsume owns the "Harvest Moon" name. So XSeed had to change the name to "Story of Seasons" for international releases, which meant that Natsume could make their own games using the "Harvest Moon" title for profit.

They were actually just trying to make Harvest Moon clones. They were really bad at it too up until Winds of Anthos. They basically destroyed the series' Western reputation until Marvelous decided to remake two of their most popular games, which made people actually look into the reason for the name change.

Of course some Stardew Valley fans called Story of Seasons a "Stardew clone" too, even though the title change came about two years BEFORE Stardew's initial release, so whatever.

Maybe people should just be happy that there's a shit ton of great farming/dating sim games to choose from instead of fighting over which one did it first or better?

[ranchstoryblog]

Ranch Story Community Q&A Volume 3: Igusa Matsuyama Returns!

Igusa Matsuyama, the legendary artist behind the Story of Seasons series since the original 1996 game has once again agreed to a Q&A featuring questions from fans from around the world! A big thank you to all the members of the community who helped make this possible.

Some aspects of the text have been altered to match localization people are familiar with. (Japanese names to English names, for example: Bokujou Monogatari (牧場物語) was formerly localized as Harvest Moon and is now localized as Story of Seasons, etc). Images were not part of the original text and have been added as a visual aid. Though we translated as many questions as we could, we did not include questions involving personal information or regarding unannounced releases. Please understand.

If you would like to read our original correspondence (in Japanese), that will be provided in a separate post.

Additional cosplay photo provided by Foxface from our community Discord.

Translations: @artycharmy (correspondence, outline) Editing and Clean-up: Jerome, @artycharmy, and @regularcelery

——— Anonymous asks: What is the relationship between Jamie and the Harvest Goddess?

Igusa Matsuyama: Jamie was treated as a fairy or spirit. I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if there's any points that link them and the Goddess.

Editor's note: the term Matsuyama uses is "妖精."

Tomato asks: I would like to ask about what their inspiration was for the outfits designs in the original release of harvest moon another wonderful life. Since I got reminded of the girl clothing brand Mezzo Piano when looking at the I love Kuma/I love bears outfit.

Igusa Matsuyama: I remember the only thing I thought of was using Spring-like colours! (All designs were made with seasonal colours In mind) When I knew that Daachan, who was planned to be used in a lot of events, wouldn't actually play a big role in the game, I put him on the T-Shirt so he could at least get some attention as a mascot-like existence.

Pansy asks: If you were able to create your own game for the Story of Seasons franchise, with no rules or limitations whatsoever, what do you think it might look like?

Igusa Mastuyama: Since I love dogs, I'd like to try making a Story of Seasons that's set in a world just full of dogs. Though that dream of mine probably won't come true.

Anonymous asks: The look of Story of Seasons has changed a lot over the years! What would you say is more challenging to create - simple designs, where you have to work with very little space, or complicated designs, where you have to consider many little details?

Igusa Matsuyama: A long time ago there were a lot of things you weren't able to replicate in video games. There were constraints for things like the number of colours and patterns for hair styles and clothes. It was difficult to work around those constraints, but at the same time a lot of fun. Nowadays, it's the complete opposite. Now we can design anything with hardly any constraints. And unlike a long time ago, now I'm asked to make more complicated designs, like patterns and decorations. However, if it's a big request, sometimes I run into quite a lot of trouble when designing. They each have had their own difficulties.

Anonymous asks: Hello, Matsuyama! Thank you for bringing the worlds of Bokujou Monogatari to life for many years. Your art has had a huge influence on me!

One of my favorite candidates is “Rock” from “A Wonderful Life.” I’d love to know any particular influences for his character design from 21 years ago, and his new design for the remake.

Igusa Matsuyama: I was told that he was a young, wannabe playboy, so I somehow ended up with that sort of design. For the remake, I made his clothes a little looser without changing his design, so he'd look even more playful. I, too, wanted to avoid changing him as much as I could as there are other people among the staff that also like the original for his “Rockness”. So, he got that makeover after everybody shared and checked their opinions with each other.

Jerome asks: On page 130 of the "Special Comic" manga there's artwork of Super Famicom characters that have never been printed anywhere else. Do you or Marvelous still have these? It would be great to see them in more detail in the future some time.

Igusa Matsuyama: They're all characters that appeared in the SNES version of "Harvest Moon." Nina's parents, Ellen's mother, Ann's father, Maria's parents (The mayor couple). I'm sorry. My SNES illustrations have gone missing...

Raven Bloom, Ryan, and Moth ask: How did you feel when your designs for the men in A Wonderful Life were repurposed to be bachelors? What do you think of the changes made to the bachelors in the remake of A Wonderful Life? I miss the “Bruce Campbell” look Matthew used to have.

Igusa Matsuyama: Matthew (マシュー) is Masshu (マッシュ) in the Japanese A Wonderful Life (Editors note: Charmy made a careless mistake when translating the questions, sorry Matsuyama san 🫣) When I first heard this name, the first thing that came to mind was Evil Dead's protagonist, Ash. You're right. I designed him after Bruce Campbell. I still love Bruce Campbell today. When Wonderful Life was under production, I had heard they weren't going to make a girl version, so I designed him not as a love interest, but as a quirky character. Knowing that he'd appear in the remake as a marriage candidate, I redesigned him as a character that would be liked by many. I hope you can enjoy the game for its nostalgia, as well as for being a shiny, brand new release.

Salmon Axe and Anonymous ask: I personally adore Doraemon x SOS game. Are you interested in working directly with or collaborating with other franchises in the future? And is there a series outside Story of Seasons you would like to work with now as a guest artist? (Could it be Pokemon?)

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved Doraemon manga since I was a kid! Working as a guest artist? Hmm, I'm happier being the main illustrator, so nothing in particular comes to mind. I enjoy a lot of games in my free time, such as Fallout, Far Cry and Border Lands.

Anonymous asks: Even though we never see his face, was there ever a concept of how Woofio would look without his costume?

Igusa Matsuyama: I designed Woofio as the being that is Woofio, so there's no design of him without his costume.

Idris asks: Your style has upgraded a lot over the time to match the trends. Do you think you will ever go for an old school look (early HM) for a SoS game again? What do you think is the secret to your art’s charm?

Igusa Matsuyama: What I'm particular about when designing for Story of Seasons is making characters with head/body proportions and an atmosphere that go well with that release. First, I listen to the client's request then think of a design according to that. These days, game visuals have gotten fancier and fancier, so there's not many opportunities for characters with short proportions to make an appearance. To me, what's important when designing is "playfulness." More so than "pretty" or "cool" and such, I get attached to the character, have fun making the character. I find joy in character creation itself.

MacGyver asks: Yasuhiro Wada has shared some interesting stories about how chaotic the original game's development was. Is there anything interesting you remember from around that time? 

Igusa Matsuyama: Now it's a memory I can look back on and laugh about, but I'm not sure how much I can talk about it so please forgive me. If Wada hadn't been there back then, then "Harvest Moon" wouldn't have become a thing.

Toyberb and Anonymous ask: There’s a lot of different cow designs now, which is your favorite to draw?

Igusa Matsuyama: I've loved drawing animals since I was a kid, so I love all of the cows. Although the easiest one to draw is the cow with the big nose.

Anonymous asks: Were there any games where you made designs for protagonists of genders that did not end up available to play as? (Like a girl protagonist for Save the Homeland/Hero of Leaf Valley or a nonbinary protagonist for any game before A Wonderful Life)

Igusa Matsuyama: There's so many designs that got scrapped, but as far as I recall, there's not really many where that character's setting itself was scrapped. (Excluding Thumbelina, mentioned below)

Koharu asks: Were there ever any character designs made for other older SNES characters like Ellen for 64? Some magazines had Marie with blue hair, like the SNES character, so it made me wonder if she (SNES Maria) was meant to also be there at some point.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm not in the position to make settings or scenarios where characters from other games appear, so I can't say, but I like the idea of older characters making an appearance!

Amina/k0iisu asks: Hello! I really love Hiro’s design specifically. Could you tell me a few facts about him/his design that might not be well known information? Thank you so much! I love your art :D

Igusa Matsuyama: Thank you very much! Hiro is a future doctor, so I tried to make them look as much like a doctor as I could. Also, to make him look friendlier, I designed him as your average everyday boy you'd see in the neighbourhood. He doesn't have a flashy face or hairstyle, but he's one of my favourite designs, too. I wrote this in the guidebook too, but what I like about him is the Asian flair I added to his clothes and the spot of colour around his feet.

Bunbun asks: I'm excited for the Nendoroid that was announced of Claire! I hope there will be ones of HM64 designs too. Since you have a lot of figures on your blog, how does it feel to be able to add one of your own characters to your collection? Are there any of your other characters you hope will get figures of?

Igusa Matsuyama: A nendoroid of Claire! I'm looking forward to it too, but when is it going to be released? If it's possible, I'd like one of Woofio.

Editor's note: Preorders are open for Nendoroid Claire now!

Chickee asks: A purple-haired princess character was rumored to have existed in Harvest Moon 64, but she didn't make it to the published game. Did you create a design for this character?

Igusa Matsuyama: That's probably Princess Thumbelina. Wasn't she Incredibly small? What I designed didn't end up being used. Speaking of HM64 characters, I pushed for them to include a pet turtle, but in the end it only appeared as an ornament. For A Wonderful Life, I asked for a turtle to be included again and designed a tortoise with a scarf, but it didn't make it as a pet and appeared only as a wild turtle that walks around the pond. I'm waiting for the day they finally include a pet turtle in the game.

emery flower147 asks: omg  I saw the pics where the AWL girls are in a team and Muffy has a shotgun and stuff? Do you think any other characters would work in a cool team like that?

Igusa Matsuyama: For the Friends of Mineral Town guide book, I had the five girls, Popuri, Marie, Ran, Elly and Karen work hard as Harvest Sprites. Also, for the guide books, I drew Pete (The old male protagonist), Sarah (The GB version female protagonist), and Claire doing whatever I wanted them to. I don't know if you can call it cool or not, but it was fun being in charge of that.

Ixur asks: A lot of the PoOT character designs for the regular villagers seem more popular than the marriage candidates in my region. Is that something that's been noticed by you/Marvelous in Japan? Lars, Clemens, Beth, and Misaki for example.

Igusa Matsuyama: Marvelous doesn't really talk about that sort of thing so I'm not sure if they're aware of it or not. I don't do social media so I'm also not sure which characters are popular. I'm happy as long as the characters are liked. The design on Lars’s shirt is modeled after my beloved dog, so I’d be especially happy if you like his shirt too.

Anonymous asks: What do you think about people cosplaying your designs?

Igusa Matsuyama: It makes me very happy! I'm no good at sewing, so I really admire people who can make their own clothes. It's an honour having the designs I made be made into real clothes, and I think it's great to have fun acting out the characters.

Afro Fae asks: When creating designs for characters, how do you settle on a specific color palette? Do you take color meanings into account with a character's personality or do you go purely off of feeling?

Igusa Matsuyama: I keep in mind the overall colours the client asked for while designing. Sometimes I propose a new colour when I think there's one that fits better. I'm also careful when choosing colours and everyone's traits to make sure it's easy to tell which character is which when seen from a distance. However, in the cases of families and such, I do the opposite and give them all a common colour to give them a sense of kinship.

———

From all of us at Ranch Story, we'd like to thank Matsuyama from the bottom of our hearts for answering our questions again! Whether a fan has only just discovered the series or has grown up alongside it, so many people have loved these characters and worlds that Igusa Matsuyama brings to life, so it feels truly special to be able to have this opportunity. We'll end this article with Matsuyama's own words, as well as a parting gift.

Igusa Matsuyama: I'm so glad I could answer your questions again. I'm the one that should be saying thank you. It means the world to me knowing that everyone enjoys my illustrations! I added an illustration as thanks. I'll keep up the hard work!

[arogaba]

This legacy is based on the same one by @sweetlysimss who very graciously gave me permission to try my hand at converting the challenge for TS3. It's not perfect but I tried my best to stick to the original rules and try and make it fun!

Tag: #nsbxbpr should be fine still or @ me if you do try this out!

Rules:

This challenge can be played with vanilla, banilla, or berry sims

As per the challenges this is based on, the romance options are a mix between those in the BPR or NSB, allowing  you to choose which you’d like (or mix them up if you wish!)

There is an optional generational challenge to paint/take a photo of your heir for every generation

The generational requirements do not need to be strictly followed/can be changed as you see fit - the important thing is to have fun!

Generation 1: White

You come from a long line of privileged sims. Life was easy for you and you never wanted for nothing. Despite the easy life, you also felt constricted, unable to be yourself. Now that you’re a young adult, you decide to break free from your parents and pursue your own dreams. Packing your bags, and taking enough money to get by with you, you run away to the old, rundown, farmhouse that the only grandparent you cared for left you in the will. Starting off with nearly nothing to your name, you decide to pursue the hobby you were never allowed to chase to its extent: painting. Due to your upbringing, you find it difficult to let other sims in and may come across as rude sometimes. What you really need is that one special sim to make you feel like it’s all worth it. Slowly but surely, as the years go by, your own family starts to grow, but life is not without its ups and downs…

Recommended traits: artistic, snob, grumpy, hopeless romantic

Career: none; make money through your paintings, fishing, and harvestables

Move into your grandparent’s old house. Must be fairly basic/rustic (the size of the house/lot is up to you)

Max the painting, gardening, and logic skills

Have multiple romantic interests throughout your life, but do not settle permanently with any of them until after you have your first child.

Go on at least one date with a purple, pink, and/or a red sim

Have one child

Get married (does not have to be the parent of your child)

Become enemies with the other sims you did not end up with

Have one more child (can be adopted or an alien baby if you wish!)

Sell at least two masterpiece paintings

Have at least two animals in your household

Optional: raise one from its youngest lifestage all the way through to elder

Be good friends with all your children and animals

Become good friends with at least one grandchild

-

Generation 2: Purple/Pink/Red

Although not everyone would believe you, you would say you had a great childhood. You grew up sheltered but loved by your parents and sibling. From a young age, you had a great passion for reading and books, though all those days spent reading might have left you with a few unrealistic expectations about life. Despite everything, you are eager to see everything that life has to offer and a sudden once-in-a-lifetime trip might change your world forever…

Recommended traits: bookworm, computer whiz, great kisser, irresistible, family oriented

Career: writer

Max the painting and writing skills

Optional: master the charisma skill too

Shortly after you become a YA go to one of the WA worlds or travel to the future. Your time here winds up inspiring you for the rest of your life

Become a writer

Either become a genre specialist or write a book from every genre

Kiss at least five different sims in your life

Leave a sim at the alter (peach or yellow)

Must have had at least two children with this sim

Have a difficult relationship with at least one of your children after the separation from your ex-partner

Have at least 3 children with any other sim (or the sim you eventually marry)

Do not marry until you are an elder

The sim you marry must be yellow or peach (whichever was not the colour of your first spouse)

The sim you marry must be in the culinary career

-

Generation 3: Peach/Yellow

It is fair to say that you grew up in quite a hectic household. The only person who spends time with you and truly understands you is your childhood best friend. The two have you been through thick and thin. They were initially drawn to you for your quiet nature, your inquisitive soul, and a passion for nature inherited from your grandparent. In your late teens, you start to notice those traits are working against you, causing others to call you “weird” or “different”, so you adapted. However, in the process of becoming this new version of yourself, you find yourself losing the one thing you ever held dead. Will you ever get your best friend back? Only time will tell…

Recommended traits: loner, shy, brooding, disciplined, athletic

Career: professional sports and then unemployed when you become an adult (though you can supplement your household funds with your collections)

Max the painting, athletic, and martial arts skills

As a child join the boy/girl scouts, and then join one of the afterschool clubs as a teenager

As a child meet your best friend in a different neighbourhood (orange or grey)

As a teen, never have any close friends except for your best friend and any of your grandparents if they are still alive

As a teen, date your childhood best friend

As a young adult, you decide to change your life around and become the social, popular sim you’ve always wanted to be

Join the professional sports career

You and your best friend begin to drift apart and eventually separate

Not long after they leave, you realise you are pregnant

You date around but nothing lasts

Complete one or more of the following collections: metals, gems, insects, fish, or plants

Do not have a good relationship with your child until they are a teenager

After becoming an adult, quit your career in sports but continue to make money by selling your collections

As an adult, reconcile with your childhood best friend

Optional: have one more child

Get married

-

Generation 4: Orange/Grey

Unlike your parents, you are far more practical when it comes to your life choices - or so you like to claim. After getting interested in your grandparent’s large book collection, you become interested in the occult, in particular witches. A mysterious book leads you to become a witch accidentally and soon strange things start to happen. Before you know it your great-grandparent has come back from the dead! In flesh and blood! How on Earth did that happen? As you begin to figure things out for yourself, a mysterious stranger takes an interest in your so called necromancy…

Recommended traits: bookworm, supernatural fan, artistic, night owl, gatherer

Career: fortune telling (you can supplement your household funds by selling potions/ingredients)

Max the painting and alchemy skills

Get a job in the fortune telling career

Date three sims but never get serious with any of them

One of these sims lead to you becoming a witch

Create every potion

Bring back your great-grandparent (up to you how this is done - you can cheat or use any of the methods in game)

Become at least good friends with them

Your necromancy catches the interest of a local doctor (yellow or purple) and you fall in love

Have at least five children together

Teach all your children their skills

-

Generation 5: Purple/Yellow

The world has so many beautiful sights to offer! You can’t wait to paint them, photograph them, or sculpt them! Your life seems to be going perfectly until one day it isn’t. One day you wake up questioning yourself, your career, even your partner! Don’t you deserve better? Of course you do! You decide to switch your life around first thing in the morning. but was it really the right choice to make?

Recommended traits: artistic, avant garde, good, excitable, savvy sculptor, photographer’s eye

Career: painter or sculptor

Max the painting skill, plus the sculpting and/or photography skills

Go to university and achieve a fine arts degree

Be enemies with at least one sibling

Start a relationship with a former classmate (orange or green)

Have at least one child

After becoming an adult, a midlife crisis hits you hard

Quit your job

End the relationship with your partner or divorce them. Afterwards, you continue to have a good relationship with them

Find a new job and skill to focus on as an adult

start a new relationship with a different orange or green sim (whichever colour was not your first partner)

Have at least one child

-

Generation 6: Orange/Green

Food is love. Crime is life. Doting parent and aspiring cook by day, criminal by night. Have you ever heard of a baking criminal? Neither have you, but someone should be the first. You have loved cooking and baking from a young age, though struggled to find your feet in the culinary career. When you leave at night your family think you are working at a swanky restaurant in town, little do they know you’re actually working for the most notorious criminal organisation in town! You prove yourself to be a hard worker but you know when to slack off and have fun. You make it a habit to visit every seasonal festival…with the bonus of getting some flirty looks from the cute sim in the crowds. 

Recommended traits: artistic, natural cook, kleptomaniac, party animal

Career: criminal

Max the painting, mixology, and cooking skills

Learn all recipes (can just stick the base game ones if you wish)

Meet your spouse (teal or pink) at one of the festivals and become instantly smitten

Have at least two children. Twins are recommended!

One child must have the good trait, one must have the evil trait

Make at least three enemies

Steal something worth at least 10,000 simoleons

-

Generation 7: Teal/Pink

You and your sibling have been together through thick and thin. You are polar opposites but are as close as can be. From a young age, the two have you have always been competing with each other. Regrettably, they always seem to be the one in the spotlight, whereas you are left floundering in the dark. What you do excel at though is school and eventually, your career. You take a job in a rather niche area, one which raises a few eyebrows for certain, but you throw your whole heart into it. Let’s see who’s the best now!

Recommended traits: artistic, good or evil, family oriented, virtuoso

Be taught all your skills as a toddler

Be on the honour roll as a child and teenager

Have three good friends from school

As a young adult, join one of the ‘entertainer’ careers: musician, singer, acrobat, magician

Master at least one instrument

Fall in love with a fellow entertainer (blue or peach)

Partner must max the guitar

Have at least two children

-

Generation 8: Blue/Peach

Music runs in your veins, you enjoy it but it is not where your true passion lies. As a young sim, you’ve always been into drama, stories, and theatre. However, the town you live in doesn’t take too kindly to people who are different, flamboyant, and attention-seeking. As a young adult, you move to a new town and throw yourself into the world of celebrities, drama, and paparazzi.

Recommended traits: charismatic, diva, dramatic, artistic

Career: film star

Master the painting and charisma skills

Join the drama club as a teenager

As a young adult, move to a new town and move to an apartment

Join the movie career

Marry a co-worker or neighbour who is also a celebrity (lavender or green)

Have at least one child

Divorce them once you surpass them as a celebrity

Become a vampire before you become a YA to preserve your looks

Have at least one child after your marriage

This child needs to have the white gen one hair colour

They will become your heir

Become a five star celebrity

Either ruin or maintain a good reputation

After becoming a five star celebrity, reconnect with your ex

Have a negative relationship with your sibling(s)

-

Generation 9: Lavender/Green 

Phew! What a ride that was! Eight whole generations have come before you, all with their own unique interests, drama, and dreams. You, however, want to take it easy. You surround yourself with simple things, friends and family, and your garden. You love the earth and want to preserve it for future generations. What will the universe have in store for you next?

Recommended traits: friendly, good, green thumb, artistic, eco friendly 

Career: gardener or inventor - maybe even both!

Max the painting and gardening skills

Move to a small, simplistic house with a garden

Have at least three friends and three enemies

Throw a party at least once a season for your family and close friends 

Accept every invitation for a party

Marry one of your best friends (colour is up to you!)

Try and live an eco-friendly lifestyle

Adopt at least one child

Teach your children all their skills

[yandere-wishes]

★ɴᴇᴏɴ ɴɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇꜱ★

Synopsis: It's late and you're tired. Trapped within a dreamlike trance trying to figure out if you're sick or just in love. Although to Blade you're just confused and need a little more persuading of how much he loves you.  

Author's note: I don't know how or even when regular people go to sleep. So forgive me for any errors. I typically just stare at my phone until I pass out. 

Warnings: Violence, blood, injury, murder attempt, delusions, Blade being Blade, Yandere themes. 

Inspired by @aluraveil post

🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️ 🥀🗡️

Neon lights bleed into the room, all proton purple and electric blue. They cast shadows across Blade's face, painting him as something surreal, something sweet, anything but a monster, anything but a killer. Just another blazing star, lost in an endless sky. 

You don't let the lights fool you, as you hover above his unconscious form. Knife clutched tight between unsteady fingers.  You know your lover's true colors better than you know your own name. In reality, he's a murderer with a schoolboy crush. Proud and prudent with a sword that's snuffed out one too many lives. 

He plucked you from your home planet, all those moons ago. A land of sands and trees. Oases and blood moons. where the wind would carry tunes of joy and laughter. It had been a perfect paradise. One you have every intention of returning to. Just as soon as you break these shackles.  Freeing yourself from this dreaded man. 

Blade is a monster. You know this as you trace the side of his face, mapping out scares that have healed too quickly. He's the embodiment of every horror harvested out of a children's readable. From eyes that echo the cosmos' insanity to a body that can withstand any calamity.

He's scary.  

But even scary things have their weaknesses.

Or so you hope. 

You learned that the hard way when he would drag you off to his room. Laying you on his bed as he'd settled beside you. He'd dose off after a few kisses and affectionate threats. Whilst you stayed awake counting every boogyman that crawled around his room. You've come to mature since then. Having befriended every terror that crawls around the accursed chamber. Vivid spiral-faced ghouls, all paying homage to both Blade's crimes and agony. You use to wave to them each night before falling asleep. But now they've all merged into the terrifying beast that you lay next to in the dead of night. 

He's beautiful you think as the colors dance across his face. Eyes sewn tight in his first blissful slumber in days. You could almost call him charming, if not for a recently patched-up would throbbing on your upper leg. He's a monster, but a rogue memory forces you to wonder if monsters can love too. If killers ever yarn for a lover's touch as they delve their blades into beating hearts. 

There's a stray moment when something begins to tug at your beaten heartstrings. your heart begins to beat to an unsteady tune, your lips begin to pulse as you recall every forceful kiss he's ever gifted you with. 

You wonder if you love him as you imagine splitting his skull open. with a Xianzhou Alliance paperweight, he keeps on the nightstand.

It's sicking you think as you dream of the cartoonishly large crack along his head. Blood sweeping out and leaking from the corners of his face. It's even worst when you imagine yourself pushing down on his shoulder as you kiss him with every desire you've kept under lock and chain, staining your pristine nightgown with his red essence. 

A grand goodbye

A childish dream. 

Still, you're sure that even the unkillable Blade has a weakness. Hidden under unbreakable bones and scarless flesh. You plan to dig deeper. Split him open and reach the one organ that no lifeforce may live without. His heart, his heart must be his only weakness. Granted he even has one in the first place. You're not sure such a terrible creature can even be labeled as a human, let alone possess any humanly needed organ. Still, you intend to find out. 

Curiosity, Curiosity, Curiosity

It's almost romantic you think, as the neon signs outside change to floating hearts in shades of plastic pink and cherry red. It's almost like falling in love with very literal analogies. 

You're lost somewhere on the border of reality and fantasy. A life-like dream that encompasses the room in a surreal glow. It's hard to tell if you're even awake. Nothing feels the way it should, as if someone mixed the pages from a horror story and a love tale. Miss-matched patches crack along your eyes. Blade's face morphos, beautiful and deadly. Desirable and detestest. Loved and hated. The knife feels unbearably heavy in your hand.

You love him, you love him, you love him...

So maybe that's why you must kill him. 

You prep the knife. Clutching its steel handle with both hands and lifting it above your head. The digital hearts outside pop one by one. A countdown bestowed upon you by the universe itself. 

4...3...2...1....

There's a grotesque sound that would make even the Aeon of Destruction flinch in disgust. The knife enters his heart just as the last digital heart pops. Blade's body is jerked forward as his eyes abruptly open. He gasps as if awakening from a nightmare. Eyes unfocused as he evaluates the room. You lean to the side, prepared to run. until his icy hand clutched your shoulder and pulls you back, throwing you to your side of the bed. 

"what the hell are you doing!"

He's angry you realise. All so angry. Wrath spirals off of him like spider lily petals in the wind. Oh, how you wish to kiss him. Your fingers reach for his face, pulled like magnets. He grips your wrist, crushing it between his fingers as he snarls. A throaty growl warning you of moving again. 

"Kiss me" You beg

Blade smirks, cruel and charming. Bits of his anger melting off live flakes of ice. He bites the side of your neck, causing droplets of crimson to leak out. 

"You stupid, stupid idiot" he chastises 

Neon lights flood the room, all lightning purple and mourning blue. They paint you like a shooting star, far from home and lost to time. Blade's weight holds you down, mesmerized by the colors that form a spiraling galaxy upon your body. 

"It's almost like you don't love me...if you did, you'd know a little knife like that isn't going to do anything to someone like me" his voice is a symphony of patronizing taunts. 

Blade straightens his back, peering down at you as if you're nothing more than a pesky insect that awakens him from his slumber. Blood mares his shirt, dripping down onto the velvet sheets. 

"Maybe I should remind you who you belong to." His tone is nothing short of a death threat, one that makes you blush.

He grabs an elastic from the nightstand, right next to the paperweight you'd used as a murder weapon in a dream-like reality. Blade pulls his hair back, teeth subconsciously chewing on the elastic band. His nimble fingers pluck the band from his mouth, tying his hair into a tight pony tale. Majestic and menacing as always. 

He's ready to punish you, you realize as his blood-red eyes focus on you. Funny how you didn't notice the dark bags forming under his eyelids until now. They make him look tired, exhausted, almost, almost human. 

He leans down slowly, lifting your hand up and entwining his fingers with yours. His index finger doesn't follow the dance, instead, it pushes down on your own forefinger, at first a nudge and then...

crack!

the bone breaks and Blade's attention snaps to your middle finger. Repeating the same torture, again and again, and again.

Somewhere along the line midnight bleeds into six am and Blade thinks he's maybe forgotten how to tell time. Or maybe he's forgotten in general, it's hard to remember when there's a knife lodged into your heart. he used to kill his assassins. Not leave petty punishment and loving kisses across their skin. He use to bathe in blood, not ravish in the mere sound of breaking bone. He wonders if you love him as much as he loves you. You're confused he's sure. What he wouldn't give to hear you say that adoring phrase. But the words keep slipping from your mind and your tongue can only muster screams of pain and agony. And oh Aeons you're so beautiful, utterly perfect.

Unterrly his...

By the time the sun rises and the neon lights die down, Blade has already dragged you to the Medical room. Settling you in his lap as Kafka tends to your destroyed fingers. 

She smiles, patronizing and sweet. Looking at the two of you as if she's seen two stars collide. 

"Now this was uncalled for" she chides, as she wraps bandages around each finger.  

 "We all tend to fabricate monsters for ourselves in the dead of night, I'm sure you know this better than anyone Bladie. Little (y/n) was probably just confused, that's all. No need to hold any grudges now. Especially towards someone you love so much" 

Kafka is his voice of reason.

You're wholly grateful for how she keeps Blade on a leash. 

"hmph, confused" Silver Wolf mutters from her place behind a large glowing screen. 

Blade's head tilts down, lips brushing over yours, eyes barring into your soul. A sinister smile chipped across his pretty face.

"Well (y/n) what do you say? I think you've finally learned your lesson this time."

[themuseofmilkandhoney333]

Why hello there…

Can you do me a big, big favor? You can? Wonderful! Get nice and comfy. Take a deep breath. Now, pay attention. That’s a good pet.

❤️‍🔥 Welcome to the Muse’s Lair ❤️‍🔥

Allow me to introduce myself. They call me The Muse. Oh yes, I know. It takes a bit of getting used to, but you really don’t mind jumping through a few extra hoops for me, do you, sweet thing? No, no I didn’t think so.

I also love to be called:

🖤Ma’am

🖤Madame

🖤 Mommy

🖤Mistress

🖤Princess

🖤 Goddess

I do have my certain preference that especially please me, but I’ll leave that to you to find out. Do you think you’ll be brave enough or will I need to coax you into talking to me like a lioness stalking her willing prey?

Awwww, look at you. Wet for me already. You precious thing. I can already tell that you’re going to be easy to break. No? Prove. Me. Wrong.

Now that you’re listening let me give you a small taste of my near feral appetite. Some of my Favorite Kinks are:

🌟Femdom

🌟Lactation- I do produce

🌟Orgasm Denial

🌟Chastity; long term & short term

🌟Female Led Households

🌟Impact Play: floggers and paddles mostly

🌟Bondage

🌟Sissification

🌟Overstimulation

🌟Milking

🌟Sounding

🌟Gaping

🌟Strap-on Play

🌟MD/lb

🌟Pet Play

🌟JOI

🌟Sensory Depravation & Play

🌟Intox Play

🌟Erotic Hypnosis

🌟Predicament Bondage

🌟Much, Much more…

You can find more of me here:

🌹

Ah…I see I really have your attention now. I bet you’re squirming right now, desperate to touch that thing between your legs. Are you imagining all the things I could do to you? The endless torturous and delicious possibilities. All your deepest, darkest fantasies fulfilled. You’ve been searching for someone like me. Someone who truly deserves your devotion and worship. Come to me.

Here you will find an amalgamation of my deepest desires and wildest fantasies. You will also find lots of art in many different mediums. I am called The Muse because my passion is to inspire. Whether it is inspiring you to stay hydrated, get back to work, get back to your favorite hobby, or reduce yourself into my pathetic, desperate, drooling pet…yes, I even want to inspire the hours of endless gooning you do in my name. I bask in it. As you stay and become more and more addicted to me, I will reveal myself to you and blossom like a garden before you…an endless harvest ahead.

Just to tempt your salivating taste buds, here’s the tiniest nugget into my world:

🖤Height: 5’2

🖤Shoe Size: 9 1/2 US Women’s

🖤Bra Size: 34 G

🖤Favorite Color: Carnelian

🖤Favorite Place: The Ocean

🖤 Sacral Witch specializing in Divination

🖤 Love Music & Singing

🖤 Love Nature & Outdoors

🖤 Love Animals & will walk you on a leash any day

Now, darling,a few final reminders. This is a sacred space where you are accepted, loved, and respected. Please treat my space with that same respect. I do not respond to demands. I WILL block you if you are disrespectful in any way towards me or any of the other guests here. You will also immediately be blocked for unsolicited pictures and blogs with empty descriptions, no profile pic, and/or no age.

Keep those requirements in mind and have fun. Get lost in it. Give yourself over to it. To me. And welcome…I do so love fresh meat.

I provide professional Domme services and require any new subs to fill out an application for that can be found in the link above. It does require an Application Fee.

With Lustful Intentions,

The Muse

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 2: Playing with Fire

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! Mentions of smut, eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 3

.......

series inspired by the art below!

It's only been a week since konig carried out his first execution at your castle, but you've seen him more times in those few days than you saw your old executioner in 10 years. You found any excuse at all to even just glimpse at him. He was sharpening his axe outside the blacksmith's hut? Suddenly, you remembered you left something outside that just so happened to be right by the blacksmith. He was scrubbing his clothes in the nearby stream? You were planning on dipping your feet in the cool water anyway.

his eyes would linger on you whenever you were in his proximity, but he was always silent. even when you politely wished him "good morning" when you went out of your way to see him, or sent a kind smile his way, all you were met with was a pair of unblinking eyes concealed by a hood as dark as the void. was he playing hard to get? you almost forgot yourself. you are a fucking princess, after all. and he's the new executioner with so much blood on his hands that he'll never be able to scrub off, who has cut off more heads than days he's spent on this earth. he had no business even looking or breathing in your direction.

and yet he still did.

his eyes always found you, even during the rare times you didn't notice him in your proximity. he'd watch the way your dress perfectly hugged your hips, or how perfect your feet looked under the cool water of the stream. on the rare occasions he was able to make direct eye contact with you, his gaze was unwavering. unblinking. he simply couldn't miss a second of anything with you.

your sisters giggled about him, making fun of how tall he was. you defended him each time, but that only led them to teasing you. they wondered why you were sticking up for the troll who lived in the basement of the castle in the most untouchable servants' quarters, where even the light of the torches couldn't reach. you covered your motivations simply by stating your morality, that all people deserve to be treated equally. your sisters got a rise out of that.

you had to be more careful moving forward. if you sisters saw you around the untouchable behemoth you defended, what would they say if they saw you looking at him, smiling at him? You didn't care about your own status or image. It was him you were worried about. so you kept your interactions with him contained within curious glances and smiles when no one was looking. and he drank it all like you were the fountain of youth. but you wouldn't know it, the way his face was always perfectly veiled. a wall.

the autumn harvest ball was finally here. everyone in the castle was preoccupied with something: your parents with looking as perfect as they could, your sisters securing love interests, the servants bustling around the castle, the knights on guard. every living being in the castle tonight was alive and buzzing.

except him. except the untouchable ones who lurked in the castle basement. an unspoken blight on the royal family, yet a necessity for the peace. as you sat in your chair at the family table that overlooked the banquet hall, you wondered what konig was doing right now. had he even eaten? with all the food that needed to be prepared for the banquet, it was likely that his own meal had been overlooked. could he cook his own food? surely he could, but did he even have food to cook, or pots and a fire to cook with? you'd never been down to the lowest servants' quarters, where it smells cold and damp and whispers echo in dark corners. yet your worry for the brooding giant below could not be quelled.

"mother," you leaned over as you whispered. "i am feeling unwell. I might be catching a cold. I think I'm going to lie down for a while."

your mother looked concerned and began to wave some servants over. "they'll tend to you. please come back as soon as you are well again."

your sisters were too busy buttering up whatever sorry chap they each managed to enchant to see you being escorted to your room by some servants. you formulated a plan as they walked you to your room.

"i'm still a bit hungry, would you mind bringing me a plate of food?" you asked one servant. she quickly ran off with a bow. the other servant helped you out of your formal gown and into a much more comfortable and loose dress, but one that still showed your figure. your mother insisted that you always look comely, even in the privacy of your own room. the other servant came back with some food, while the other began to dap your forehead with a cloth.

"you two are dismissed. I've got it from here. thank you," you said with a smile as you took the cloth from the girl. They bowed silently and left you in your room. you leaned against your wooden door and listened until their footsteps could no longer be heard.

You wrapped the plate of food - which had the finest chicken, the best quality of cheeses and fruits - with a spare clean cloth from your drawer. you put on a slight cloak and pulled it over your head, tucked the wrapped plate under your arm precariously, and quietly shut your door as you left your room.

the only issue was, you didn't exactly know how to get down to the basement. there was never any need for you to be there. but luck was on your side, since all servants were in the banquet hall, so no one could see how you snuck around the castle, opening side doors and going down staircases only to get to a dead end. the food was growing cold, and you became worried. finally, you found the passageway down to the basement. but it was guarded by two knights.

you shook your head to yourself. they're technically you're knights, who are they to say where you can and cannot go in your own castle? you walked right by them with a bowed head, as if you frequented the bowels of the castle, and carefully looked around for anything that could pass as an executioner's quarters. it took a while for your eyes to adjust to the low light - you were always used to the well-lit, stained-glass hallways of the main areas. you quietly creeped down a stone hallway, shivering in the cold. you passed by small rooms with no doors and hay beds on the floor, and felt disgusted. how could your parents treat their own servants like this? you kept going, and the hallway ended at a staircase, spiraling down into the earth. this must be the way to konig's quarters, you thought. so, you braced yourself and carefully descended down the stairs.

you reached a point where there was almost no light, and began to be afraid, when you finally saw a single torch at the bottom of the staircase. there was a single door at the bottom, and it was shut. you collected your breath, straightened your back, and knocked a lot more timidly than you had meant.

you heard a wooden chair squeak as he got up and walked towards the door. you heard shuffling of cloth - had his mask been off? and you looked up at him nervously when he slowly opened the door. even in the low light, you could see how wide his eyes were to see you there. he thought you looked perfect, all doe-eyed looking up at him. vulnerable. he could drag you in his room and take you right now if he wanted. but he instead stared at you with his eyes almost popping out of his head.

you cleared your throat and brought the covered plate out from its hiding place underneath your arm. you held it up to him with both hands, saying nothing. your shaking hands told him all he needed to know.

"you shouldn't be here," were the first words he ever spoke to you. your heart dropped.

you blushed and spoke quietly, staring at his chest rather than his eyes that seemed to burn right through you. "i...i didn't know if you had eaten...since all the food in the castle is for the harvest...please...i want you to have this." you held up the plate again and closed your eyes, prepared for him to slam the door your face, when you felt the weight of the plate being lifted from your hands.

he took the plate and stared down at you. "thank you," he barely whispered. you perked back up and looked at him, the fear in your face now morphed into a mixture of happiness and concern. you were practically serving yourself on that plate for him. after a moment of staring at each other, you realized he wasn't going to speak again.

"i hope you like the food," you said timidly as you stared down what almost seemed to be the devil himself. this man was so dark and brooding, like a horrible thunderstorm that was standing at a respectable distance from you, just waiting for the right gust of wind to blow him your way.

konig wordlessly turned around and made a bee line for the crude wooden table in his living quarters. he left the door open. an invitation? you looked at him, spooked, but his back was to you as he sat down and removed the cloth from the plate. you tiptoed your way inside his room and looked around. there was a modest bed in one corner, the table he sat at with two splintered wooden chairs, and a rotted chest at the foot of the bed. you approached the table cautiously, afraid he might turn and sink his teeth into you, before you sat down at the other chair across from him.

he ate the food with his hands, which you found oddly endearing. if you saw any other person doing that, you would've been disgusted. but the way he carefully pulled apart the chicken and reached up into his mask to eat, almost like how an elephant eats, tugged on your heartstrings. you noticed, however, that he was eating very fast. almost like he was starved. looking around, you didn't notice any other plates in the room.

"i trust you're being fed well?" you asked, not bothering to hide the concern dripping from your voice. he glanced up at you before returning to his meal. "please tell me if you're not being fed enough -"

"i am," he roughly uttered as he swallowed a large piece of chicken.

"the way you're eating, it looks like you haven't eaten in days," you observe with a slightly teasing tone to your voice. he finally finished eating and wiped his hands on his pants.

"not your concern," he said as he gently threw the cloth you wrapped the plate with across the table. despite his rough words, you knew his intentions. there was no bite, no malice, in his tone. as a princess, you weren't supposed to be worried about him. you weren't even supposed to look at him. and here you were, in the executioner's room, making sure he's being fed and cared for.

"keep it," you say as you shake your hand. "you might need it for something. and I know it's not my concern, but I do want to make sure that you..." you cleared your throat and blushed "and everyone else in this castle is well taken care of."

konig stared at you so intently that you felt glued to your chair. your heart stopped in your chest.

"you play with fire, princess."

your breathing got deeper, which did not go unnoticed by him. princess was literally your title. it wasn't supposed to make your panties soaked or your nipples hard when you were called that. especially not when you were called that by the executioner. in his room. in the lowest part of the castle. he could have you screaming his name, and no one would be any wiser.

"there's nothing wrong with fire," you clumsily tried to flirt, or ease the tension. you weren't sure. "it's warm. it keeps us safe from beasts. brings us together."

"it burns. destroys." he said deeply.

you gulped. "yes, it can do that as well. you just have to handle it properly."

konig was near speechless at your effortless banter, the way you tried to convince him that he wasn't whatever beast he thought he was. he fell silent and stood up abruptly from his chair. he looked at you, almost confused, before walking towards the door.

"you should go," he said as he stood by the door with his hand holding it open.

part of you wanted to tease him, wanted to tell him that you wanted to stay. but he was probably right. if your sisters or mother found out you were away from your room for too long, things could get bad. you stood up and walked towards the door. you were about to wish him goodnight as you passed the entryway when he spoke again from behind you.

"you always stare at me," he stated plainly.

You turned and blushed as you looked past his muscular frame and at the wooden table. "does it bother you?"

"no."

feeling a surge of confidence, you smiled up at him. "goodnight, konig. i'm glad you enjoyed the food."

you nodded your head at him in respect before sneaking back up to your room. when he shut the door behind you and threw off his hood, he couldn't admit to himself how red his face was, or how his cock strained in his pants. he didn't tell you how he had never had food of such high quality before, or that a girl has never shown him kindness like you did. he didn't tell you the things he wanted to do to you as you sat timidly in that chair. how he would have rather been feasting on your core than the chicken you so kindly brought him.

and you let him keep the cloth. you were so innocent, he almost felt bad.

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome

[rainforestakiie]

Adamsapple Month Harvest

Apple Picking~

@adamsappleweek

okay, so i really want to be apart of this. i was hoping to have the first week written and ready to go! but i ran out of time! i am away the first week, so i have tried really hard! i may be a week behind everyone else! i might be able to get pumpkin out before tomorrow morning when i leave for my vacation! i hope you like it!

peacock adam is inspired by @inubaki

The first tender blush of life was an enchanting, bewildering moment. A strange, ethereal instant. Colours swirled like windswept petals, spiralling around the first human, coaxing them into existence with a soft, delicate pull. Nothing had form in the dawn of time. Shapes flickered in and out like distant dreams, hazy and formless. The first human wasn't quite human yet—more of a flicker of light, a whisper on the breeze, a faint shimmer like the flutter of a butterfly's wings or the soft rustling of peacock feathers, caught in an eternal dance.

"My child, you are awake," a voice as gentle as the wind, warm and soothing, called them to awareness. "My first human."

They flinched at the sudden brightness, their eyes wide and glassy, blinking against the light. The first human wriggled, an odd flutter of sensation tightening in their chest as they became aware of their new body, the unfamiliar weight of limbs. A pulse of warmth cradled them from below, something soft and alive beneath their skin, sending tiny tingles through their senses.

A tender laugh drifted from above, soft as a lullaby, calming the anxious human. "Open your eyes, my child. Open them and behold your new home."

Slowly, cautiously, their eyes fluttered open, the very act of blinking an alien concept. A soft whimper escaped their lips, startling them as they froze, wide-eyed and trembling, trying to make sense of themselves. Another gentle chuckle beckoned their gaze, and finally, the first human looked upon the most exquisite being they would ever know.

Before them stood a figure, radiant with a beauty that words could never hope to capture. She towered above them, a towering presence, ten times their size, her body graceful and slender. She wore a dress as pure and white as freshly fallen snow, flowing like water around her legs, pooling at her feet in a cascade of soft silk. Ribbons of white floated about her arms like whispers and draped across her shoulders was a magnificent cloak of feathers—blue, green, and gold, shimmering like the iridescent wings of a peacock, forming a cascade that fluttered like ethereal wings, though the human wouldn't have known that. She wore crown and was holding a golden sceptre.

Her skin glowed with a warm, sun-kissed hue, her long curls a cascade of deep chestnut and fiery red, framing her face like a crown. But it was her eyes—those golden, otherworldly eyes—that mesmerized the first human, filled with wisdom and warmth, glowing like the very essence of life itself.

"I am a woman," she said with a smile, her voice like honeyed sunlight. "And you, my dear one, are the first man. My first creation. I am your mother, and I will guide you, nurture you, and care for you, as long as you fulfil your purpose."

First man?

The words swirled in his mind, strange and unclear. He could only stare in wonder at the towering woman, giving a small, uncertain nod as she gazed down at him with endless love and patience.

"I am the Queen of the Gods," his mother spoke, her voice firm and regal, the air around her thick with authority. Her golden eyes lifted toward the swirling heavens above, the clouds parting as if bowing to her presence.

"My true name is Hera," she continued, her tone carrying the weight of eternity. "Goddess of marriage, of women, childbirth, and family. But to you, I am simply ‘Mother.’"

“Mother?”

The word hovered on the tip of his tongue, his lips twitching, struggling to form the sound. Hera’s knowing smile softened, and she shook her head gently, her golden eyes gleaming with patience.

“Do not fear, my child,” she murmured, her voice as soft as a breeze through leaves. “That will come in time.” She lifted her golden sceptre with grace, and as she did, a low rumble stirred from behind him. The ground beneath him pulsed, alive and breathing. He tried to move, but his limbs, still unfamiliar and clumsy, betrayed him. He tumbled forward, sprawling awkwardly upon the warm earth.

“This is your duty,” Hera said, her voice resonating with purpose. “The very reason for your birth.”

Frantically, the first human rolled onto his back, eyes wide with curiosity and confusion. Before him, a tiny stick began to emerge from the ground, rising and stretching toward the sky until it stood as tall as he did. He blinked at it, baffled, unable to comprehend its significance.

“This is your purpose,” Hera explained, her gaze never leaving the stick. “Right now, it is but a mere sapling—fragile, insignificant. But as you grow, as you learn, as you feel the stirrings of emotion, this tree will blossom with life. Apples will grow from its branches, and it will become a living testament to your journey.”

Her golden eyes softened as she knelt, bringing herself to his level, her presence both nurturing and commanding. “When the time comes, your duty will be to care for this tree. To protect it, nurture it, and love it with all your being. Listen closely, my child. This tree will give birth to the future of humanity. It is your most sacred responsibility.”

Hera’s voice grew more solemn, her gaze intense. “In time, there will be those who wish to disrupt the path laid by the gods. They will come, seeking to steal an apple from this tree. You must never allow it. Not a single apple may be plucked.”

The first human, bewildered, turned his gaze back to Hera. His mouth opened and closed, desperate to speak, but no words came. His thoughts swirled like the clouds above, too vast and too mysterious for him to grasp. Hera’s expression was filled with something deep—something the first human could not yet understand.

“You will, in time,” she assured him gently. “With patience, understanding will come. But for now, remain close to your tree. Pour your heart and soul into it. This tree, this garden, will be your life, my child. But do not fear, for I will always be with you. Whenever you call for me, I shall appear.”

Her words were spoken with the tender authority of a mother. She smiled, reaching out to him, her fingers brushing through his phantom-like hair. At her touch, the strands transformed, becoming thick and rich, coloured with deep shades of brown and red, like hers. She hummed softly, running her hand through his hair as his new form began to take shape—his skin warm and sun-kissed, his eyes shimmering with the same golden glow that marked him as her own.

“From this moment forward, your name will be Adam,” Hera said, her voice filled with pride. “The first human, born of the Queen of the Gods, Hera.”

~#~

Adam sat quietly, cross-legged on the warm, living earth beneath him, staring at the slender stick before him. His brow furrowed; lips slightly parted in quiet confusion. The stick, so small and fragile, did not seem worthy of the love and protection Hera had told him to give. What could he possibly do for it? He didn’t understand its purpose—much like he didn’t fully understand his own. He looked around the vast garden, golden sunlight dappling the trees, the air sweet and warm, but his gaze always came back to the stick. It stood there, rooted, silent, waiting.

For what?

After a long time, Adam stirred. His fingers twitched in the soil, feeling the pulse of life beneath his fingertips, the breath of the land surrounding him. A flicker of determination sparked within him. He pushed himself up, his legs trembling with uncertainty as he tried to use his feet. But the moment he shifted his weight, he toppled back, landing on his backside with a soft thud. A small, startled laugh escaped him—not from his mouth, but in the way his body shook with surprise.

As if in response to his courage, the stick began to stretch. Slowly, it rose higher than before, its delicate form straightening, thin tendrils of roots starting to twist into the earth. Adam’s breath caught in his chest, his heart beating a little faster as he watched it grow, as though the stick was waiting for him to act. Amazement filled him, his chest tight with wonder, and in that very moment, the tree pulsed. It shuddered with life, thickening, solidifying, its branches extending upward in slow, graceful arcs.

Adam's eyes widened, filled with childlike awe. He took another breath and tried once more, pushing himself to stand. This time, his feet steadied beneath him, though his knees wobbled. The tree responded immediately, growing taller, more magnificent. Each movement, each discovery Adam made about himself, seemed to breathe life into the tree.

Encouraged, Adam took a few shaky steps forward, marvelling at his newfound balance, but in his clumsiness, he tripped over a root. He tumbled to the ground, pain shooting up his leg. The moment his skin grazed the earth, the tree surged with growth, the trunk thickening even more, its roots digging deeper into the soil.

Adam sat there for a moment, rubbing his ankle, staring at the ever-growing tree. The connection between them was undeniable, though still mysterious. He didn’t understand fully, but it filled him with warmth. A warmth that soon turned into joy when Hera appeared again, stepping lightly into the garden like a breeze.

Her golden eyes sparkled with approval as she gazed at the tree, now towering over both, its branches wide and full of promise.

“I am pleased with your growth, my child,” Hera said, her voice soft but filled with pride. “The tree flourishes because of you, and it is already more magnificent than I expected.”

Adam blinked up at her, still unable to speak, though his heart longed to communicate. Hera, as if sensing his confusion, knelt beside him, her presence calming.

“This tree is bound to you,” she explained, her fingers brushing the roots that had tangled themselves lovingly around Adam’s feet. “It will grow as you grow. Its strength, its beauty—everything about it will reflect what you learn, what you feel. It is a mirror of your soul.”

She stood, gesturing to the golden gates that shimmered far in the distance, their tops disappearing into the clouds.

“This land was created for you,” Hera continued. “You may explore anywhere within those gates, but you must never stray beyond them. The tree is your heart, and you must always be near it.”

Adam nodded, though his mind still swirled with questions. Hera smiled gently, a motherly pride shining in her eyes. She bent down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. The warmth of her touch spread through him, and for the first time, Adam felt something new—a lightness, a joy blooming in his chest.

Without thinking, his lips curled into a smile. Hera chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling as she noticed the first apple, small but perfect, beginning to form on one of the branches above.

“The apple of joy,” she mused, brushing her fingers along the growing fruit. “Well done, my child. I am proud of you.”

Adam’s smile faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. Proud? The word felt strange, unfamiliar. But Hera simply touched his cheek, her expression kind. “In time, you will understand.”

Not long after, the gods began to visit Adam, each arrival more magnificent than the last. The first to descend from the heavens was Zeus, who appeared in a blaze of lightning and a rolling wave of thunder that seemed to shake the very sky. His presence was immense commanding, like the rumble of a distant storm. The air around him crackled with energy, as if the very clouds bowed to his will. He stood tall, radiating power, his eyes the colour of a tempest, sharp and piercing as they gazed down at Adam.

"I am Zeus," he declared, his voice deep and booming, echoing through the garden like thunder over the hills. "King of the Gods. Ruler of the skies and master of thunder. I am power. I am authority."

His words hung in the air, heavy and electric. Adam stood still, wide-eyed, staring up at this god whose very presence seemed to shake the fabric of the world. Zeus, with all his might, spoke of justice and strength, his teachings woven into the very atmosphere, as if the sky itself listened in reverence. Each word was like the beat of a drum, filled with promise and unyielding force, painting a picture of order and dominion. The air around Adam tingled with something new, something that pulsed deep within him.

As Zeus's voice thundered on, something extraordinary began to happen. The tree that stood beside Adam—the one he had nurtured with his own quiet care—responded. Apples began to blossom from its branches, small and golden, glowing like tiny suns. Each one grew as Zeus spoke, as if the tree itself drank in the knowledge and wisdom of the god’s teachings. Power. Authority. Justice. With every new concept Zeus shared, a fresh apple bloomed, rich and ripe, the tree swelling with life.

Yet, as the apples multiplied, a strange feeling stirred in Adam’s chest—something uncertain, something heavy. His heart fluttered with unease, like the whisper of a breeze before a storm. Though Zeus’s words were filled with grandeur and might, something in them felt... distant, cold, as if they lacked the warmth of the earth, the softness of the garden he had come to know. It was as though the power Zeus spoke of was too vast, too untouchable, leaving Adam with a sense of disquiet that he could not yet name.

It wasn’t long before Hera returned, her golden eyes narrowing in displeasure when she found Zeus in her garden, his voice rumbling through the trees like a storm. Adam was cowering beneath a branch, his heart pounding in his chest.

Hera’s feathers ruffled as she stepped into the clearing, her voice sharp. “Zeus! This is my human. This garden belongs to me. You have no right to be here.”

Zeus, unconcerned, merely smirked, his laughter echoing through the air. “Oh, Hera. Always so protective. Perhaps I’ll create my own humans, but for now, I’m curious to see what your little pet project will become.”

Hera bristled; her anger barely contained. “If Adam becomes something great, you’ll only try to claim him as your own. But he is mine, and you have no place here.”

Zeus chuckled, teasing her. “Don’t stress yourself, my wife, or you’ll wrinkle that lovely brow of yours.”

With a wink, he disappeared in a crack of lightning, leaving Hera fuming, her wings twitching with irritation.

But her mood softened when she turned to Adam, who looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes and spoke his first word.

“Mother.”

Hera’s breath caught, her eyes glistening with tenderness as she smiled down at him.

“Yes, my child?” she whispered, her heart swelling with pride and love.

Another apple began to grow above them.

~#~

After Zeus had come and gone in his stormy grandeur, the other gods and goddesses, curious and eager, began to follow suit. One by one, they entered the sacred garden, each bearing gifts of knowledge and wonder, their divine presence casting a magical glow upon the world Adam was learning to call home. They approached the first human with gentle fascination, intrigued by the sight of new apples sprouting on the tree with each revelation they shared. Every lesson was a seed, and every seed bore fruit.

Poseidon, God of the sea, earthquakes, and horses, was next. He strode toward Adam with the commanding presence of a rolling tide. His eyes glistened like the deepest oceans as he lifted his hand, summoning nature’s unpredictable power. The quiet garden that had once been bare now burst into life. Lush grass unfurled beneath Adam’s feet, trees blossomed in an instant, and vibrant flowers bloomed in hues Adam could hardly name. Streams of water wove their way through the garden, their currents both gentle and wild, a reminder of Poseidon's dual nature. Adam stood in awe, mesmerized the god had conjured life from nothing. Poseidon smiled and spoke of nature's fierce and delicate balance.

"Respect the earth," he said, his voice like the murmur of the waves. "And it will respect you in return."

Soon after, the goddess Demeter stepped into the garden, her every footfall leaving a trail of ripe fruits and vegetables in her wake. Her presence felt like the warmth of a harvest sun, nurturing and kind. She bent down, cupping her hand over the fresh produce that had sprung from the earth.

"Take what you need, my child," she said softly, offering Adam a plump fruit. "But remember, when you take from the soil, plant three seeds in return. Give as much as you receive, for this is the way of life."

Adam listened, her wisdom sinking deep into his heart as he watched the fruits grow larger and more bountiful on his tree.

Next came Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and crafts, her eyes gleaming with the sharp light of intelligence. She knelt beside Adam and began to tell him stories of ancient battles and cunning strategies. She taught him the art of creation, showing him how to meld his surroundings into tools.

"With wisdom and patience, you can shape your world," she said, her voice calm and steady.

Adam found himself captivated by her words, eager to learn the skills she offered, and with each new craft, a bright apple blossomed on the tree, glowing with the light of knowledge.

Of all the visitors, Adam’s heart warmed most to Apollo, the god of the sun, music, and healing. When Apollo entered the garden, the entire world seemed to shine brighter, the sun blooming high in the sky as if it had been born from his very soul. A radiant light bathed the garden, casting warmth over Adam’s skin and filling him with a sense of peace.

"This sun is for you, to keep your garden warm and your heart light," Apollo said, his voice like the soft strum of a lyre.

With him, he brought music—the sweetest gift of all. He taught Adam how to build instruments, crafting a simple guitar from the wood of the Tree of Life. They would sit for hours beneath the branches, Adam learning how to play, his fingers dancing across the strings while Apollo sang beside him. Each note they played seemed to bring more life to the garden, and more apples to the tree.

But where there was sun, there was also moon. Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the wild, soon followed her twin brother into the garden, her arrival as quiet as moonlight but filled with purpose. The moment she stepped into the garden, a silver glow spread across the land, and a luminous moon took its place beside Apollo’s sun. Her presence brought the wilderness with it—deer, wolves, and all manner of wild creatures slipped through the shadows to join the peaceful garden.

"The wild has its place here, too," she said, her eyes fierce but protective.

She taught Adam about the beauty and freedom of the untamed world, and how nature could flourish in chaos as well as in calm.

Then came Ares, God of war. His entrance was not soft like the others but bold, the air around him crackling with energy. He spoke to Adam of conflict, aggression, and the chaos of battle, his words laced with intensity. Adam, however, felt uneasy under his fierce gaze, unsure how to reconcile the violence Ares spoke of with the peace of his garden. But soon after, Hephaestus, God of blacksmiths and fire, arrived to offer balance. He showed Adam how to channel those darker emotions into creation, shaping metal and flame into something beautiful and useful.

"There is power in transformation," Hephaestus explained, his hands forging tools from raw materials, each one gleaming with purpose.

Hermes, the god of messengers, travellers, and trickery, arrived with a swiftness that left Adam blinking in surprise. Hermes was quick and clever, his words flowing like a river as he taught Adam the arts of communication, how to speak and write, how to understand the language of the world. With every lesson, Adam's own speech grew clearer, his thoughts more organized, and apples of intellect sprouted from the branches above.

Hestia, the gentle goddess of the hearth and home, came quietly into the garden, her presence a warm and comforting embrace. She guided Adam in the art of creating a home, ensuring that the place he rested was not just a shelter, but a space filled with peace, stability, and warmth. She smiled at him, her eyes glowing like embers, as she showed him how to build a fire, how to keep the hearth burning, always.

The final visitor was Dionysus, God of wine, festivity, and the wild joy of life. His energy was exuberant, his laughter contagious as he tried to teach Adam the art of celebration. He offered Adam a cup of wine, and for the first time, Adam felt the giddiness of intoxication. But before the festivities could get out of hand, Hera appeared, her expression stern as she found Adam giggling and stumbling.

"No more wine for you," she declared, her voice soft but firm. "You are to remain clear-headed, my child."

Adam, sheepish but amused, smiled up at her, nodding in agreement.

Through it all, the tree continued to grow, fed by the wisdom and emotions Adam absorbed from the gods and goddesses. It stood taller and prouder, its branches heavy with apples of every hue, each one a testament to Adam’s journey of learning. As Hera watched over him, her eyes softened with affection. Though Adam had yet to fully understand his purpose, the garden was already flourishing, and with each new step he took, his heart and the tree both grew stronger.

Adam's days stretched into a gentle, golden haze, filled with warmth and quiet contentment. The hours drifted by as he lay beneath his ever-growing tree, the soft grass cradling his body. His golden eyes shimmered in the dappled light, watching as the tree—once a mere stick—had now blossomed into a towering presence. Its branches extended in every direction like wooden arms, reaching toward the heavens. Apples of every hue dangled from those branches, each pulsing softly with life, glowing with the emotions they represented. Adam often found himself lost in thought, wondering how these apples, brimming with such power, would one day birth something greater. Yet, his heart brimmed with trust. Hera, his beloved mother, had told him they were important, and Adam believed in her words with all his being. He adored her, cherished her guidance, and found peace in knowing she always watched over him.

But despite the serene beauty of his garden, it could be terribly lonely. The gentle hum of nature that surrounded him—while comforting—wasn't enough to fill the quiet when the gods and goddesses weren’t visiting. Adam savored their company, especially Apollo’s, who often lingered for hours, filling the air with music and warmth until someone from the clouds had to come fetch him. But once they left, an empty ache settled in Adam’s chest, a hollow space that nothing seemed to fill.

With a soft sigh and a slight pout, Adam rolled onto his side, his fingers absently playing with the grass, twirling the blades between his fingers. The small daisies giggled as he touched them, their soft petals tickling his skin, but his mind was elsewhere. He barely noticed when the air around him shifted, becoming warmer, the breeze carrying with it a sweet, intoxicating scent of blossoms.

"So, you’re the human everyone has been speaking of," a voice cooed from behind him, silky and warm.

Startled, Adam jerked upright, scrambling onto his knees to turn and face the new presence in his garden. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes fell upon the goddess who leaned gracefully against his tree. She was breathtaking, with long, cascading curls of golden hair and eyes as blue and deep as the ocean. Her form was delicate but radiant, her waist slim and her chest perfectly curved. She smiled at him, fingers lazily tapping the bark of the tree as one brow arched playfully.

"Are you not going to greet me?" she teased, her voice like a melody, as though woven from honey and light.

Adam blinked, his mind scrambling to catch up.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice soft with wonder.

The goddess laughed, a sweet, lilting sound that danced on the breeze. "Oh, I see. You’ve grown bold, haven’t you?" Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“O-Oh, I’m sorry,” Adam stammered, his face flushing deeply with embarrassment. He bowed his head quickly, his gaze falling away from her radiant beauty.

With a soft smile, the goddess pushed herself off the tree and walked toward him, her movements graceful and fluid. She knelt before him, her long, delicate fingers reaching out to gently lift his chin, guiding his gaze back to hers.

"My name is Aphrodite," she whispered, her voice as smooth as silk. "The goddess of love, beauty, and desire."

“Love?” Adam repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion as the unfamiliar word left his lips. But at the same time, his face burned with a new, unfamiliar warmth under her gaze.

Aphrodite’s soft giggle sent shivers down Adam’s spine. Her eyes flicked upwards, catching the sight of a brilliant pink apple forming on one of the branches above.

“My apple, I presume?” she mused, her voice dripping with amusement.

Adam followed her gaze, watching in awe as the rosy fruit bloomed before his eyes, its color vibrant and intoxicating. His heart fluttered with a strange, new feeling—shyness mixed with curiosity. Relief flooded him as Aphrodite released his chin and stood up, but the sensation in his stomach—an odd, coiling warmth—lingered. He felt small, bashful under her enchanting gaze, and she clearly revelled in his unease.

Humming softly, Aphrodite let her fingertips trail along the bark of the tree, her touch almost reverent as she moved closer to the freshly grown apple. Her hand reached up toward the pink fruit, brushing the air just beneath it, when Adam’s breath caught in his throat.

“P-Please don’t touch my apples!” he blurted out, clambering clumsily to his feet. “Mother told me no one is allowed to pick them!”

Aphrodite turned to him, her lips curling into a smile that was both playful and mysterious, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Do not fear, Addie," she purred, her tone teasing as the nickname rolled off her tongue. "I have no intention of picking the apple."

Adam's face flared crimson at the sound of the nickname, his heart thudding in his chest. He shifted awkwardly on his feet, his body fidgeting under her gaze. Aphrodite, clearly delighted by his reaction, let out a soft, spine-tingling hum, her attention drifting back to the tree. She traced her fingers along the bark, her touch light and careful, as if she were caressing something alive.

And in a way, she was. The tree pulsed beneath her hand, its bark warm and almost breathing, alive with the magic and emotions it held. Adam stood frozen, unsure of what to do, his eyes wide and his heart racing as Aphrodite’s presence filled the air around him. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze locking with his, and in that moment, Adam felt something stir deep within him—something entirely new.

Whatever it was, it left him breathless.

Aphrodite’s gaze lingered on Adam as she playfully tilted her head, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “Tell me, Addie,” she purred, her voice soft as velvet, “do you think I’m the most beautiful goddess? Even more beautiful than Hera?”

Adam blinked, taken aback by her question. His thoughts immediately drifted to Hera, his mother. He didn’t answer, not because he didn’t want to, but because, in his heart, no one could ever be more beautiful than her. She was his everything—his guide, his creator, his protector. Aphrodite, sensing his hesitation, let out a dramatic sigh and pouted.

“Oh, pooh!” she whimpered, crossing her arms over her chest. “I really thought my charm had won you over.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his golden eyes wide with genuine confusion. Adam cocked his head, puzzled by her words.

Aphrodite shrugged, her delicate shoulders rising as she leaned back against the tree. “My power, darling.”

“Is born from romance, passion, and physical attraction. I thought you'd be entranced by me—how could you not be?” She huffed like a child denied a toy, her lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“I was so sure you'd choose me over Hera. But no matter,” she added with a flick of her hair, “I’ll prove to you that motherly love is nothing compared to the love of a soulmate.”

Adam's brows furrowed as he stared at her, utterly bewildered. Her words danced around him like a strange puzzle, none of the pieces fitting together.

"What are you talking about?" he murmured, his innocence radiating from him like sunlight.

Aphrodite’s blue eyes sparkled with amusement. She straightened up, finally looking at him with a more serious expression.

“Tell me, Adam,” she began again, her voice a touch softer, “Do you love Hera?”

Without hesitation, Adam blinked and answered, “Of course I do. She’s, my mother.”

Aphrodite let out a snort, her lips curling into a smug smile. “Oh, Addie," she teased, "one day, you’ll abandon everything. Even Hera. For someone else.”

Adam’s frown deepened, his expression growing serious. “I would never betray my mother,” he said firmly, his voice unwavering. The very idea felt foreign, impossible.

Aphrodite laughed, a rich, melodic sound that filled the garden.

“Ah, love makes people do crazy things, my dear,” she said, a knowing look flashing in her eyes. “Trust me, even the strongest ties can be broken by love.”

Adam remained silent, unsure of what to say. The concept of love that Aphrodite spoke of felt strange, distant, like something just out of his reach. He could feel it tugging at him, but it made no sense.

Sensing his confusion, Aphrodite’s expression softened. “Love…”

“Is like a rose. Beautiful, vibrant, full of life… but also dangerous. Its thorns can hurt you.” As she spoke, vivid red roses began to bloom along her gown, their petals velvety and radiant in the warm light.

Adam’s eyes were immediately drawn to the roses. Mesmerized, he reached out, his fingers gently brushing over the delicate petals. But as his hand moved lower, it caught on a thorn, and with a sharp sting, he pulled back, gasping softly as a drop of blood welled on his fingertip. His eyebrows knitted together as he stared at the crimson bead forming on his skin.

Without hesitation, Aphrodite stepped closer, her soft fingers wrapping around his hand. She looked down at the tiny wound, her gaze tender, and gently cupped his hand in hers. "Does love hurt like this?" Adam asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” she murmured, her eyes twinkling. Aphrodite smiled, the kind of smile that held the weight of centuries. “The greatest love stories always come with pain and tears.”

“But why?” Adam asked, his golden eyes wide and filled with a mixture of curiosity and sadness.

Aphrodite grinned at him, her blue eyes sparkling with mystery.

“Because, my dear Addie, love is a force more powerful than you can imagine.” She brushed her fingers against his cheek, her touch light and almost comforting. "Can you keep a secret?"

Adam’s eyes grew wide with fascination. “I can!” he blurted out eagerly, only to pause and frown. “But… I don’t know what a secret is.”

Aphrodite giggled, the sound like the tinkling of wind chimes. “A secret,” she explained, “is something you keep just between the two of us. No one else can know—not even Hera.”

Adam hesitated, his heart fluttering. His loyalty to Hera was unshakable, and yet… there was something captivating about Aphrodite’s words. Her fingers stroked his cheek gently, and her voice dropped to a whisper.

“Please, keep my secret, Addie?” she purred.

His face flushed red, the warmth creeping up his neck as he swallowed hard. After a moment of struggle, he gave in, nodding slowly.

“O-Okay. I promise.”

Aphrodite’s smile widened in satisfaction. “Good boy. I’m making something. Something beautiful and wonderful.”

Adam's curiosity flared, his heart pounding with the excitement of something new. “What are you making?” he asked, his voice full of wonder.

Aphrodite leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she whispered, “The first angel.”

Adam’s eyes grew even wider, his breath catching in his throat. A soft silence fell between them, and after a moment, he whispered back, “What’s an angel?”

Aphrodite giggled again, her laughter sending a shiver down Adam’s spine. She patted his cheek playfully, her fingers lingering for just a moment.

“You’ll learn in time, Addie,” she teased. “You’ll see.”

Before he could ask anything more, Aphrodite winked at him, and as she began to step back, her form dissolved into a shower of rose petals that fluttered into the air. The petals swirled around him, transforming into delicate red butterflies that filled the garden, flitting among the branches of his tree.

Adam stood in awe, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the last of the butterflies disappear into the sky. He was amazed, breathless at the beauty of the display. And though Aphrodite was gone, her words lingered in his mind—her secret resting like a fragile bloom inside him, waiting to unfold.

~#~

One warm day, as it always was warm in the garden, Hera arrived to visit Adam. The moment he saw her, his heart swelled with happiness. It had been so long since anyone had come to see him, and his days had grown lonely in the quiet, though the vibrant garden never ceased to bloom around him. Yet today, something was different. The way Hera huffed and puffed, her eyes narrowed in frustration as she grumbled softly to herself, made Adam pause in confusion. He blinked up at her, tilting his head curiously before slowly approaching.

"Mother?" he called gently, his voice soft and filled with concern. "What’s wrong?"

Hera finally looked down at him, her eyes softening as she realized the worry in her precious human's gaze. "Oh, Adam," she sighed, "I didn’t mean to worry you." Her voice, though still regal, was tinged with weariness.

Adam’s wide smile returned, though his golden eyes searched her face with care. "Why are you upset, Mother?"

“It’s my husband, Zeus,” she muttered, her voice heavy with irritation. Hera pressed her fingers to her temple, massaging away an invisible ache. “He’s being foolish once again, trying to outdo me with his own human project. As if that will make up for his nonsense.”

Adam didn’t fully understand what she meant, but he could tell that whatever Zeus had done was the source of her vexation. His heart ached to see her troubled, so he decided to act. With a bright smile, he dashed toward the garden’s edge, gathering the most beautiful bouquet of flowers he had tended. Their petals glistened with dew, each bloom vibrant and full of life. With care, he presented the bouquet to Hera, holding it up as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

"These are for you, Mother," Adam said, his voice soft and hopeful. "I hope they make you feel better."

Hera’s face softened at the sight of the flowers, and a smile slowly spread across her lips. She reached down and took the bouquet, inhaling the delicate fragrance.

"Oh, Adam," she said fondly, her eyes brightening as her irritation began to melt away. “These are beautiful. You always know how to cheer me up.”

Her gaze travelled upwards to the Tree of Life, which now stood tall and magnificent, its branches reaching toward the heavens, heavy with thousands of glimmering apples. The sight of it made Hera's chest swell with pride.

"Look at your tree," she mused, her voice filled with admiration. "It’s more vibrant than ever, so full of life. You’ve done so well, Adam. I expected no less from my precious human."

Adam beamed, his heart racing with joy at her words. Nothing made him happier than making Hera proud. Her praise was the sunlight that nourished his soul, just as the tree thrived beneath the warm rays of the sun.

Hera stayed with him for a long while after that, her presence a comfort Adam had missed deeply. They spoke about the garden, the tree, and everything he had learned from the other gods, but all too soon, the time for her to leave drew near. Adam could feel it, a hollowing sadness creeping into his heart. He had been so happy in her company, but now that she was preparing to leave, the loneliness returned, wrapping itself around him like a cold shadow.

Just as Hera turned to go, she noticed the change in him—the way his bright expression dimmed, how his shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to hide his sadness. She turned back, gently taking his hand and drawing him close, her golden eyes searching his face.

"Adam," she said softly, lifting his chin so he would meet her gaze. "Why are you so blue, my dear? Tell me, what troubles you?"

Adam hesitated, but then he took a deep breath, trusting his mother with every part of his heart.

"I’m lonely," he admitted quietly, his voice trembling. "I don’t like it when you leave. The garden is so quiet when you’re not here, and it’s starting to… hurt."

As Hera's golden eyes sparkled with newfound light, her wings unfolded with a graceful sweep, feathers shimmering like the first light of dawn breaking over the horizon. From the luminous plume, peacocks began to emerge, one after another, their feathers rich with opalescent blues, greens, and golds, each bird more breathtaking than the last. Their elegant tails trailed behind them like waterfalls of light, the garden now alive with the soft rustling of feathers and the occasional musical trill of their calls.

Adam gasped, his heart fluttering with awe and delight as the peacocks strutted around him, their beauty mesmerizing. The air felt warmer, more alive, and the garden seemed to breathe with new energy as the creatures made it their home. He watched, wide-eyed, as they wandered between the flowers, under the shade of the great tree, their feathers gleaming like precious gems scattered across the earth.

Hera, regal and motherly, watched Adam's wonder with a smile full of affection. She knelt beside him; her hand gentle on his shoulder. "These peacocks, my dear Adam, will be your companions. No longer will you walk alone in this garden. They will keep you company, shower you with affection, and rely on you as you will rely on them."

Adam's golden eyes shimmered as he gazed up at Hera. The ache of loneliness that had gnawed at him for so long began to melt away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and gratitude.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Hera brushed a lock of his hair from his face, her fingers warm and comforting.

“The tree, of course, will always be your greatest duty, for it is tied to the very core of your being. But these peacocks,” she gestured to the birds now fanning their tails in the sunlight, “they will be your second family. They will love you as deeply as you care for them. But remember, you must look after them, nurture them. They will look to you for guidance and protection, as you look to me.”

A smile broke across Adam’s face, radiant and innocent. “I promise, I will take care of them, just as you take care of me,” he said earnestly, his heart full of devotion. The bond he shared with Hera felt stronger than ever, as though the garden itself now pulsed with the rhythm of their shared love.

Hera’s gaze softened, and with tender grace, she bent down and pressed a kiss to Adam’s forehead. Her lips were cool and comforting, like the kiss of a soft breeze on a summer day.

“I adore you, my precious Adam,” she murmured, her voice carrying the depth of the heavens themselves.

Adam’s heart swelled with emotion, and without hesitation, he looked up at her with wide, adoring eyes.

“I love you too, Mother,” he said, his words simple yet filled with a pure, untainted love that only a child could give.

For a moment, Hera’s golden eyes flickered with something like surprise. Her gaze drifted upwards, catching sight of a brilliant pink apple nestled among the branches of the great tree—the apple of love, Aphrodite’s gift to the garden. Hera’s lips curved into a wistful smile, a mixture of pride and something more. She sighed softly, but her smile never wavered.

Looking back at Adam, she caressed his cheek, her touch light as a feather. “Love is a powerful thing, Adam. You will learn this in time,” she whispered. Her eyes, filled with both wisdom and a mother’s tenderness, held his gaze for a lingering moment.

The garden, now alive with the soft calls of the peacocks and the gentle rustle of leaves, seemed to hold its breath as Hera rose to her feet. She stood tall and radiant, her peacock feathers shimmering in the sunlight, the embodiment of regal beauty. Her time with Adam was ending, yet she hesitated, sensing the weight of his emotions.

As she prepared to leave, she noticed the shift in Adam—the way his joy began to fade, his posture becoming small and withdrawn, like a flower wilting without sunlight. Her heart ached at the sight, and she turned back, drawing him close to her once more. “Adam, my sweet child,” she said softly, her voice full of concern. “What is troubling you?”

Adam’s eyes, filled with a mix of sadness and longing, met hers. “I don’t like it when you leave, Mother. I feel so lonely when you’re gone. The garden feels empty without you. It’s starting to... hurt.”

Hera was silent for a moment, her heart heavy with his words. She could see the depth of his loneliness, the pain in his golden eyes. Gently, she cupped his face in her hands, her touch filled with both comfort and understanding.

“Oh, my dear Adam,” she murmured, her golden eyes softening with compassion. “You will never be alone. Not anymore.”

With a radiant smile, she raised her arms once more, and from her magnificent wings of peacock feathers came birds—more peacocks, brilliant in their blue and green splendor. They soared into the sky, their feathers glinting in the sunlight, before descending gracefully to the garden floor. Thousands of them filled the space, their presence vibrant and alive.

Adam gasped, his heart racing with excitement and joy as the birds flocked around him, their soft coos filling the air. His garden, once quiet and still, was now alive with the flutter of wings and the warmth of companionship.

“They will be your family now, Adam,” Hera said, her voice soothing. “They will love you and care for you as you will for them. They will be your constant companions, so you will never feel lonely again.”

Tears of gratitude welled in Adam’s eyes, and he beamed up at Hera, his heart overflowing with love.

“Thank you, Mother,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will take care of them, I promise.”

Hera smiled, her eyes glowing with pride and affection. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead once more, her touch soft and full of love. “I know you will, my precious child.”

As she prepared to leave once more, her wings shimmering in the sunlight, Hera glanced back at Adam, her heart full of love for the human she had created.

“Remember, Adam,” she said softly, “I will always be with you, no matter where I am. You are never truly alone.”

Adam nodded, his heart swelling with warmth as he watched her disappear into the soft light of the garden. The peacocks fluttered around him, their vibrant feathers glistening in the sunlight, and for the first time in a long while, Adam felt at peace.

He was no longer alone, and the garden—his home—was more alive than ever before.

~#~

Centuries slipped by like whispers on the wind. Though the world had largely forgotten him, Hera remained a steadfast visitor, weaving in and out of his days. Yet, Adam found himself mostly enveloped in a gentle solitude that no longer felt heavy upon his heart. His family of peacocks brought vibrant chaos to his life, each bird a shimmering personality, each one a delightful puzzle that kept him joyously occupied. He marvelled at the way their feathers caught the light, dancing in iridescent hues.

Lately, he had sensed a change in the skies, a fluttering mystery just beyond his reach. While he couldn't quite grasp its significance, he’d caught snatches of hushed conversations during Hera's visits. Other deities drifted in and out of his life like fleeting shadows, but Zeus remained notably absent. Adam surmised that Hera’s fiery spirit had sent him packing, while the mighty god busied himself with some enigmatic human endeavour, whatever that might entail.

For the past hundred years or so, Adam had spotted ethereal figures flitting through the azure expanse above, their wings glinting like jewels in the sunlight. None dared enter his enchanted garden, for Hera had made it clear that such incursions were forbidden. Still, Adam would stretch out upon the warm, welcoming grass, his heart brimming with wonder, as he watched these mysterious beings soar overhead.

He had honoured the sacred rules his mother set forth, never straying from the venerable Tree of Life, never once daring to breach the golden gates that cradled him in safety.

It wasn't so bad, he mused to himself, the gentle solitude wrapping around him like a soft blanket.

“Cain! Come on!” Adam implored; hands perched defiantly on his hips. “Stop bullying Abel!”

The obstinate red and black peacock merely scoffed, tossing his magnificent, feathered tail with a flourish as he stormed off, sending a cascade of vibrant feathers swirling in the air. Adam leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the gust of prideful disdain. With a heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, releasing a soft, disappointed sound as he turned his attention toward Abel.

Kneeling on the sun-kissed grass, he shifted closer to his smallest peacock, who seemed to embody gentleness itself. With tender hands, he opened his arms wide, welcoming Abel into a warm embrace.

“Did Cain hurt you badly this time?” he asked, carefully inspecting the delicate pink and white feathers that adorned Abel. The reason behind Cain’s relentless teasing remained a mystery to him, but he could never fathom why his heartless brother targeted the sweet little runt of the family.

Abel responded with a soft coo, nuzzling deeper into Adam's embrace, and Adam’s heart swelled with affection. He smiled tenderly, lifting the small peacock effortlessly into his arms, feeling the familiar warmth of companionship. A soft crack echoed as he straightened, relieved to find that Abel’s feathers remained unscathed this time. Cain hadn’t managed to snatch any away. Adam had hoped for a kinder heart to blossom in Cain, but alas, the bully remained unchanged.

“Don’t worry, dear Abel. I’ll protect you from the big, mean Cain~” he sang softly, cradling the peacock gently as he began to stroll back toward the majestic Tree of Life.

Abel cooed again, nuzzling his fluffy white head affectionately against Adam’s cheek. Adam grinned, feeling a spark of joy light up his heart.

“I’ll groom your feathers again~” he whispered playfully, swaying slightly with the little peacock nestled against him.

Adam began to hum a soft, lilting melody that Apollo had taught him so many lifetimes ago. The song drifted through the garden, soft as the breeze that swirled around the shimmering feathers of his peacock family. As the tender notes floated on the air, the mischievous birds gradually settled down, their playful antics pausing for the moment. Adam’s golden eyes sparkled with a mix of love and amusement as he caught several of them mid-mischief, their vibrant tails fanning out in innocence as he strolled by. But as he passed, they quieted, calmed by his presence and song.

It had been far too long since his mother, Hera, had visited. A familiar ache twisted in Adam’s chest at the thought of her absence. He adored his peacocks—they filled his days with color and company—but he couldn’t deny the depth of his longing to see Hera again. Nearly a hundred years had passed since their last meeting, and the distance only deepened his yearning. Something was happening outside the golden gates, something momentous, and though Adam didn’t know what it was, he could feel it in the air. His curiosity gnawed at him, mingling with a growing sense of exclusion. Why was he being left out? Why had the gods turned their attention elsewhere?

As he approached the towering Tree of Life, Adam’s gaze shifted upward—and his footsteps came to an abrupt halt. His heart skipped a beat, confusion flickering across his face. There, hovering in the air near the sacred tree, was a figure. They moved gracefully, never quite touching the tree, but far too close for Adam’s comfort. His eyes darted toward his peacocks, many of whom had now noticed the intruder, and Cain, ever the troublemaker, had begun to creep toward the tree, his striking red and black feathers ruffling in preparation for an attack.

Sharing a quick, knowing glance with Abel, Adam tiptoed closer, curiosity fully piqued. The figure was breathtakingly beautiful—unlike any being Adam had ever seen. He had met countless gods and goddesses over the centuries, but none had ever taken his breath away quite like this mysterious stranger.

Suddenly, the figure’s six enormous, feathered wings fluttered, lifting them higher, closer to the branches of the ancient tree. Adam’s gaze locked onto their hands as they stretched out, fingertips grazing the air just inches from Athena’s golden apple of knowledge. The figure remained blissfully unaware of Adam—or of the slyly advancing Cain.

“I wouldn’t do that~” Adam called out softly, though his voice held a note of awe.

The stranger jerked in surprise, their head snapping upward—only to smack it against a low-hanging branch. Their pristine white top hat flew as they winced, rubbing their head with a pained expression. Slowly, they turned to face Adam, their eyes half-closed in discomfort.

“Huh?” they murmured, blinking down at him.

“I suggest you move,” Adam said with a helpful smile, gesturing toward Cain with a nod.

Wide, beautiful blue eyes—large and round—peered down at Adam in astonishment. The stranger’s cherry-red lips parted, barely able to form words before Cain leaped at them with a furious squawk. With a startled yelp, the winged figure darted out of the way just in time, but Cain wasn’t satisfied with merely scaring them off. He launched himself from the tree, landing squarely on the stranger in a tangle of feathers and limbs, sending both crashing to the ground in a messy heap.

Gasping, Adam quickly set Abel down and dashed over, grabbing Cain around the middle. “Cain, stop!” he pleaded, tugging the furious peacock off the bewildered stranger. Even as Adam lifted him, Cain continued to squawk and thrash, determined to make his displeasure known.

“You’ve made your point!” Adam sighed, stepping toward the Tree of Life.

Cain huffed indignantly, casting one last spiteful glance at the stranger before leaping from Adam’s arms and retreating high into the tree branches, where he glared down like an angry sentinel.

Shaking his head, Adam turned his attention back to the newcomer, who was still lying on the ground, dazed but seemingly unharmed. Aside from a few scratches and a mess of feathers tangled in their golden curls, they appeared mostly fine. Adam knelt beside them; concern etched on his face.

“Um... are you okay?” he asked, his voice sheepish.

The winged figure blinked up at him, their large blue eyes glowing with confusion. Slowly, they sat up, their six wings fluttering as they shook off the shock. They frowned, rubbing the scratch on their blue-painted cheek and sending a glare toward Cain, who squawked mockingly from his perch.

“Yeah, I’m fine. You should really control your bird,” they grumbled, their voice low and disgruntled.

Adam tilted his head, his eyes sweeping over the stranger with unabashed curiosity. Up close, they were even more striking. Their golden curls framed a face that seemed to have been kissed by artistry itself, their long black lashes framing eyes that gleamed like polished sapphires. No nose graced their face, but their cherry-red lips and blue-painted cheeks gave them an ethereal charm. Their six wings shimmered in the sunlight, a blend of snow and sky-blue feathers that glittered like frost in the morning light.

“Oh!” Adam gasped softly, spotting the golden halo that hovered just above the stranger’s head. His eyes widened in awe as he reached for the white top hat that had fallen nearby. “Um... this is yours?”

The stranger eyed the hat for a moment, then reached out, their fingers brushing Adam’s as they took it. Before they could speak, Cain hissed from above.

“I’ve never seen you before,” the stranger remarked, their tone guarded.

“I could say the same about you!” Adam chirped brightly, excitement bubbling in his voice. “I’ve never seen you in my garden before!”

“What?” The stranger frowned, their wings giving a sharp flutter as they rose gracefully to their feet. “Your garden? This belongs to the Queen of Gods, doesn’t it?”

“My mother’s garden,” Adam hummed, his eyes wide with fascination as he watched the stranger’s wings move.

The stranger’s brows shot up in disbelief. “Your mother? Who are you?”

Adam giggled softly, still holding the fallen white top hat, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“I really am Adam,” he insisted, “The first human.”

The stranger snorted in disbelief, shaking their head and narrowing their sapphire eyes. “No, you're not. I know who the first humans are. It’s been my responsibility to guide them for the past year or so.”

“Oh? And who are these ‘first humans,’ then?” he asked, his golden gaze sparkling with interest. Adam tilted his head to the side, curiosity piqued.

 “The first man is named Steve,” they said, their voice dripping with authority. The stranger puffed up with pride, their wings fluttering slightly as they crossed their arms. “But he’s not exactly the nicest guy. In fact, he’s a bully—controlling, bossy, always pushing people around. And he torments Lilith constantly.”

Adam’s brow furrowed in confusion, his lips parting. “Lilith? Who’s Lilith?”

The stranger raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback that Adam didn’t know. “Lilith is the first woman. She and Steve were created together, as equals, to bring mankind into being. But Steve—well, he’s been nothing but trouble. Constantly tries to overpower Lilith, treating her like she’s beneath him.”

Adam blinked, processing the stranger’s words. Then, suddenly, it clicked. He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head in realization.

“Ohhh, now I get it. I think I finally know what’s been going on—why my mother, Hera, was so upset all those centuries ago.”

The stranger stopped short, his prideful expression fading into silent curiosity. He didn’t say a word, but his intense blue eyes stayed locked on Adam, waiting.

Blushing under the stranger’s gaze, Adam cleared his throat and smiled sheepishly. “I’m guessing this Steve and Lilith... they were created by Zeus, weren’t they? The King of the Gods?”

The stranger gave a stiff nod, still watching Adam closely. His curiosity only deepened when Adam giggled softly again, as if finally understanding something profound.

“That explains it,” Adam whispered to himself, though the stranger’s sharp ears caught every word. “That’s why Mother was so furious with him. Zeus... he copied her. He went off and created his own humans.”

The angel's interest intensified, and he moved a step closer, his blue eyes bright and filled with a kind of desperate curiosity.

“What do you mean?” he asked, voice soft, almost breathless.

Adam looked up, meeting those glowing eyes. He took a step forward, leaning in slightly, causing the angel’s cheeks to flush the colour of sunrise.

 “I mean,” Adam began, his voice soft and full of warmth, “I am the first human. I was born centuries ago, and I’ve lived here in Hera’s Garden ever since, caring for the Tree of Life.”

The stranger’s gaze shifted from Adam to the magnificent tree behind them, its branches pulsing with ancient energy. “You mean... it’s your responsibility to take care of the tree?”

Adam beamed, his smile wide and radiant. “Yes! The tree is deeply connected to me—born from my emotions, my feelings, my experiences. Each time I learn something new, each time I feel something deeply, a new apple grows.”

The stranger’s eyes widened in awe, their wings quivering slightly as they gazed at the tree. “I... I never knew that,” they whispered to themselves, voice barely audible. “There’s so much I didn’t know.”

“Who are you?” he asked at last, his voice gentle. Adam stepped forward again, catching their gaze, his own eyes soft and curious. “I’ve never seen anyone like you before.”

The angel’s face turned bright red under Adam’s attentive gaze. He took a step back, tugging nervously at the collar of his blue-and-white robes.

“I... I’m an angel,” he stammered, eyes flicking away from Adam’s intense gaze.

Adam gasped, his golden eyes growing wide with excitement. “An angel! I’ve been waiting so long to meet one!”

His joy was almost infectious as he leaned in eagerly. “Do you have a name?”

The angel shook his head, his expression turning a bit sombre. “No. None of us do. Angels... we aren’t given names.”

Adam frowned at that, the idea of someone so beautiful and special not having a name stirring something in his heart.

 “Well, that’s no good,” he declared, crossing his arms with determination. “You need a name! I’m quite good at naming things, you know. I named all the peacocks!”

 “Fine,” he sighed after a moment, a trace of amusement slipping through his serious exterior. The angel raised an eyebrow, giving Adam a dry look, but he didn’t protest. “What would you call me, then?”

Adam tapped his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he studied the angel. After a few moments, his face lit up with a soft blush.

“Lucifer,” he said with a shy smile. “I think your name should be Lucifer.”

The angel blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. For a moment, he was silent, rolling the name over in his mind. To his own surprise, he found that he liked it—really liked it.

“Lucifer,” he repeated slowly, a smile ghosting at the edges of his lips. “Why that name?”

Adam’s blush deepened, and he glanced down, suddenly bashful.

“Because...” he started, glancing back up at Lucifer, “You remind me of the Morning Star.”

Lucifer stared at Adam, wide-eyed and speechless for the first time, his heart skipping a beat. The name felt perfect, as if it had always been waiting for him, and Adam’s warm, sincere gaze made it even more meaningful. For the first time, Lucifer felt seen—truly seen—and as the gentle breeze stirred the golden leaves above them, the magic of that moment settled between them like stardust.

Lucifer shook his head, trying to dispel the strange warmth blooming in his chest. His six wings trembled, and he quickly pulled himself away from Adam, not realizing just how close he had leaned in, drawn by the soft glow of Adam's golden eyes and the blush deepening on his cheeks. Lucifer’s own face flushed pink, and in a moment of flustered panic, he pulled down his top hat to hide the heat rising in his cheeks.

“I-I should get going!” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. “I have to get back to Eden. I—I don’t want to be accused of neglecting my responsibilities!”

His wings fluttered awkwardly, ready to lift him away, as if his sudden escape could mask the overwhelming feelings stirring inside him.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise, and he instinctively stumbled after the angel. “Wait, Lucifer!”

Lucifer froze mid-flight, his heart stuttering at the sound of his name. It was so new, so strange to be called by something that felt so... personal. His whole body shivered as if the sound of his name from Adam’s lips was a gust of wind brushing over his skin. Slowly, he turned, his wings flapping just enough to keep him suspended in the air, his face growing even redder.

“Y-Yes?” he managed, his voice soft and trembling. “What is it?”

Adam hesitated, his hands fidgeting with nervous energy, his golden eyes wide and pleading. “You’ll come back, won’t you? You’ll come see me again, right?”

There was a desperate hope in Adam’s voice, something that tugged at Lucifer’s very soul. The thought of never seeing the angel again made Adam’s chest tighten, an ache he didn’t understand, but one that was impossible to ignore.

Lucifer swallowed hard, his heart racing as he held Adam’s gaze. Something inside him fluttered in response—an unfamiliar feeling, like the beginning of a melody he had never heard but somehow knew by heart.

“I... I will,” he answered softly, his voice steadier this time. “I’ll come back and see you soon. I promise.”

The way Adam’s face lit up, the way his smile radiated pure joy, sent Lucifer’s heart into a flustered spiral, his blush deepening as he looked away. His wings fluttered nervously, but the smile on Adam’s face left him rooted in place for just a moment longer, drinking in the sight of that happiness, like sunlight spilling into a shadowed corner.

Neither of them noticed the soft, shimmering magic that began to swirl around the branches of the Tree of Life. High above them, a ruby-red apple began to take shape, its surface gleaming like a polished gem, born from the quiet wonder blooming between them. The tree pulsed with quiet energy, responding to the bond being formed in that very moment, a connection laced with tenderness and curiosity, so fragile yet so profound.

For just a second, Lucifer’s wings fluttered slower, his gaze lingering on Adam’s glowing face. He felt something stir deep within him, something he wasn’t ready to name. But with a final bashful glance, he tore himself away, shooting into the sky, his heart pounding in a way that was entirely new to him.

As he disappeared into the heavens, Adam stood beneath the Tree of Life, watching Lucifer’s graceful flight, the angel’s name lingering on his lips like a whispered wish. A soft breeze rustled the leaves above, and the new apple shimmered, as if the tree itself was smiling down at the beginning of something beautiful.

~#~

Adam carefully pulled himself up the great, ancient branches of the Tree of Life, his giggles lost in the whispering leaves. His fingers found familiar grooves in the bark as he ascended, though today there was an odd, fluttering sensation deep in his belly—something unfamiliar, something strange. Adam couldn’t place it, but the higher he climbed, the stronger it grew.

Finally, he reached a particular branch, his instincts guiding him. There, nestled among the leaves, was something new. A shimmering, red apple that sparkled like a jewel against the golden sunlight. Adam’s large, golden eyes widened in surprise. He’d never seen an apple like this before—it was radiant, almost glowing, with an unmistakable energy pulsing from within. Tiny, ethereal hearts seemed to flicker inside the fruit, as if it were alive with some kind of magic.

Gently, Adam extended a hand, brushing his fingertips over the apple’s surface. It responded instantly, pulsing warmly under his touch. His breath hitched, and a flush of red crept up his cheeks, the blush burning brightly across his face.

“What... is this apple?” Adam whispered to himself. He knew each apple on this tree was born from his experiences, his emotions, but what could this one mean? What feeling had been awakened inside him?

Before he could ponder further, a sudden voice, full of mischief, broke the quiet.

“Boo!”

Adam squealed, startled, losing his grip on the branch. His arms flailed as he wobbled and then, with a small yelp, he tumbled from the tree.

But instead of hitting the ground, he landed in a pair of familiar, strong arms. Lucifer’s bell-like laughter rang out as he cradled Adam like a bride, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Did you miss me, Addie?” Lucifer teased, flashing a mischievous grin.

“Luci!” Adam huffed, smacking the angel playfully on the shoulder. His heart raced, still recovering from the surprise. “I told you not to sneak up on me like that!”

Lucifer giggled, his wings fluttering playfully as he spun them through the air, holding Adam securely. The gentle twirl made Adam whine, kicking his legs in protest.

“Put me down!” Adam pouted, squirming in Lucifer’s arms. “You know I don’t like it when you do this!”

Lucifer, grinning like the playful troublemaker he was, nuzzled against the side of Adam’s flushed cheek.

“But you make the cutest expressions, Addie~” he sang sweetly, delighting in Adam’s blushing face.

“S-Shut up!” Adam whimpered, his cheeks now a brilliant shade of red, as if competing with the apple he'd just seen.

Nearby, Cain, ever the jealous peacock, hissed and spat angrily at the angel. Lucifer’s face darkened with mock seriousness as he held Adam tighter, his possessive streak shining through.

“You know, Cain,” Lucifer said in a sing-song voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “At this rate, I just might run away with Addie~”

He whistled softly, pretending to consider it. “I could kidnap him, and you'd never see him again~”

Cain squawked furiously, his red and black feathers puffing up in outrage, the proud bird flapping his wings aggressively.

Adam sighed, exasperated, glancing between Lucifer and the indignant peacock. “Alright, alright, that’s enough. Stop teasing Cain. No wonder he doesn’t like you!”

Lucifer gasped in exaggerated disbelief. “Oi! I didn’t do anything! He’s the one who attacked me first!”

Despite his protests, Lucifer landed gently on the grass, a safe distance from Cain, who still eyed him suspiciously. With a cheeky grin, Lucifer stuck his tongue out at the huffy bird.

“He’s just jealous cause you like someone else more than him now!”

Adam’s face grew even redder at that comment, his gaze flicking nervously to Cain, who puffed up even more as if to challenge Lucifer’s claim. The poor man let out a sheepish laugh, trying to diffuse the tension as he stepped away from Lucifer’s teasing hold.

Lucifer, ever the opportunist, plopped down next to Abel, the gentle and quiet peacock of the flock. Abel wasted no time snuggling into Lucifer’s lap, cooing softly as the angel stroked his delicate pink and white feathers. A soft smile graced Lucifer’s face as he lovingly groomed Abel, his usual mischievousness replaced by tenderness.

“At least Abel likes me~” Lucifer cooed, his fingers working through the bird’s feathers with care. Abel purred in contentment, nuzzling into the angel’s hands, a perfect contrast to his fiery brother Cain.

Adam couldn’t help but smile at the sight, his heart warming at the gentle scene. Despite Lucifer’s playful antics, there was a softness to him—a sweetness that made Adam’s chest ache in the most wonderful way.

Since the moment Lucifer had first appeared in Hera's garden, he'd kept his word, sneaking back time and time again to visit Adam. Each meeting brought new stories—mostly rants about Steve's awful behavior or Lilith's brilliant inventions—but no matter the topic, Lucifer always seemed most eager simply to be with Adam. And Adam, too, found himself looking forward to their time together, that strange feeling in his chest growing more intense with each encounter.

Adam found himself watching Lucifer more often than he cared to admit. The angel was captivating, and there was something undeniably charming about his mischievous nature, his radiant blue eyes framed by his golden curls, the way his six wings fluttered when he laughed.

One afternoon, as they sat together in the shade of the Tree of Life, Adam found himself gazing a bit too long. Lucifer, who never missed a chance to tease, grinned and caught Adam’s stare.

"Do you like what you see?" Lucifer teased, winking smugly as he leaned back with an air of confidence. "Because I like what I see too~"

Adam’s cheeks flamed, turning a deep shade of red as he looked away, flustered. He scratched at his warm cheek and gathered his thoughts, finally turning back to Lucifer, his heartbeat fluttering. Something had been bothering him for a while, and it was time to ask.

"Luci," Adam began, his voice more serious than usual. "What were you doing by my tree back then?"

Lucifer, who had been gently grooming Abel's feathers, froze mid-motion. His expression shifted from playful to confused. "Huh?" He blinked, clearly not expecting the question. "What do you mean?"

Adam frowned, sitting up straighter. The air between them felt different—heavier. "Before Cain attacked you," Adam clarified, locking eyes with Lucifer. "What were you doing near the Apples of Life?"

For a moment, Lucifer said nothing. His mouth opened, then closed again, as if struggling to find the right words. His wings, normally so full of energy, sagged slightly. Adam’s heart clenched with worry, sensing something deeper beneath the angel’s hesitation.

"Lucifer..." Adam’s voice grew firmer, almost trembling. "What were you doing by the tree?"

Lucifer swallowed thickly, avoiding Adam’s gaze. "I... I was going to take the Apple of Knowledge."

A shocked gasp escaped Adam’s lips. He shot to his feet, his golden eyes wide with horror.

"You what?!"

Lucifer winced at the sudden outburst, his wings shrinking around him in defines. "I—It wasn’t like that!" he stammered, though he couldn’t quite meet Adam’s eyes.

"Lucifer!" Adam’s voice shook with disbelief, his heart racing in his chest. "You were going to steal one of my apples?! The Apple of Knowledge?"

The significance of the apple weighed heavy on Adam’s mind. He knew its power, its ability to alter the course of those who consumed it. The thought of Lucifer—his Lucifer—doing such a thing shook him to his core.

"I didn’t know you then!" Lucifer defended, his tone quieter, guilt lining his voice. "I didn’t know about you or the garden... I thought it was just a place of power. I didn’t know how much it meant, Adam. I swear!"

His blue eyes finally met Adam's, filled with something like regret. "I was only trying to... to help."

Adam’s heart ached as he saw the turmoil in Lucifer’s expression. His anger flickered, softened by the angel’s sincerity, but confusion still clouded his thoughts.

"Help?" Adam’s voice dropped to a whisper. "Help with what?"

Lucifer looked away, his hands gripping his robes. "Steve. Lilith."

His voice was low and bitter. "They were... are so miserable. Steve controls everything. He suffocates her, takes from her. I thought if I could take the Apple of Knowledge... maybe they could see what’s really happening. Maybe things could change."

Lucifer kept his gaze on the ground, shame flickering across his face. "I thought it was the only way to help them. But when I met you, when I saw the tree... I knew I couldn’t do it. That’s why I stopped. That’s why I never took the apple."

"You’re not like him," Lucifer whispered. "You’re not like Steve. You care, you’re different, you’re....I just wanted to give Lilith freedom, to be able to make her own choices and…"

Adam’s heart pounded painfully in his chest. Even though he’d heard Lucifer’s reasoning, the anger still simmered beneath the surface, but worse than the anger was the hurt—the deep, sharp ache that crept into his chest, making it hard to breathe. The thought of what Lucifer had said, of what he had almost done, spiralled in Adam’s mind, filling it with fear and doubt.

Tears welled up in Adam’s golden eyes, blurring his vision. His voice trembled as he spoke, barely above a whisper, "So… is that the only reason you visit me? To gain my trust? So, you could pluck one of my apples for Lilith?"

Lucifer’s head snapped around; his blue eyes wide with shock.

"What? No!" he shook his head furiously. He gently moved Abel off his lap and stood quickly, trying to close the distance between them.

Desperation crept into his voice. "Adam, no—please. That wasn’t it. I wasn’t trying to trick you!"

Adam jerked his hands away before Lucifer could touch them, pulling back like he’d been burned. Cain, ever protective, hissed viciously and leapt between them, feathers puffed in rage. Adam’s lips quivered as he gasped, his voice trembling with raw pain.

"Trick? You were trying to trick me?"

Lucifer froze, horrified. "No! No, that’s not what I meant!"

His voice broke as he shook his head, panic and regret twisting his features. "I chose the wrong words. Adam, I wasn’t trying to trick you—I swear it."

But Adam was already spiralling, the flood of emotions overwhelming him. His vision blurred as tears spilled down his cheeks, hot and unrelenting. He blinked, shocked by the intensity of his feelings, of how much it hurt.

"Lucifer…" he whispered, voice catching in his throat. "Why?"

Lucifer's heart clenched painfully at the sight of Adam’s tears. He had never seen Adam cry before. His Adam, the boy with the golden eyes who beamed brighter than the sun—now crumbling before him. Desperation surged through Lucifer’s veins.

"Adam, please," he begged, stepping forward despite Cain’s hissing. "Please listen to me!"

But Adam shook his head, turning his back on the angel, trying in vain to wipe his tears away. He could barely breathe, his chest tight with shame and confusion.

My mother will be so disappointed," he whispered brokenly. "For letting you in… for letting an intruder get so close to the tree, to me—and I didn’t even tell her." His voice cracked, the weight of it crushing him.

Lucifer stepped forward again, wings trembling with the urge to fix it, to explain. "No, Adam, it’s not like that—"

Adam was barely listening. His mind spun with the memories of every conversation, every rant Lucifer had about Lilith, about how he wanted to help her. It made his heart ache in a way he didn’t fully understand.

"You… you were trying to help Lilith?" Adam whimpered; his voice thick with emotion. He glanced up at Lucifer, his eyes wet and vulnerable. "You’re always so happy when you talk about her…"

Lucifer's wings jerked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to respond. The accusation hung in the air like a heavy weight, and confusion flashed across Lucifer's face. He cared about Lilith, yes—but this wasn’t about her.

But Adam couldn't bear the uncertainty. It felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, burning with every heartbeat. He shook his head furiously, a sob breaking free from his throat as he stepped back, further away from Lucifer.

"You never cared about me, did you?" Adam cried out, voice cracking under the weight of his heartbreak. His golden eyes were wide and desperate. "You were just using me. To help her, weren't you?"

"No!" he pleaded, his voice breaking with the force of his denial. Lucifer flinched as if he had been struck.

He surged forward, reaching out to grab Adam’s arm, to hold onto him, to stop him from slipping away—but Cain lunged, screeching furiously, forcing Lucifer to retreat.

Adam’s heart pounded as he watched the angel flinch back, his chest heaving with the weight of his sobs. He breathed deeply, trying to steady himself, but the pain was too much. Looking Lucifer in the eye, Adam’s voice came out in a whisper, trembling and full of finality.

"You should leave."

The words hit Lucifer like a blow. He felt the sharp sting of them deep in his chest, and for the first time, he truly understood how much it hurt to see Adam like this—to see him in so much pain because of him.

"Adam, please..." he begged, his voice raw, wings drooping with the weight of his guilt. "Please listen to me…"

But Adam only turned away, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

"Go," he whispered again, his voice barely holding together. “Just go away.”

Lucifer’s hands trembled as he pressed his lips together, his heart heavy with a grief he had never known. He nodded slowly, giving in to Adam’s wish, even though every part of him wanted to stay, to fight, to fix this. He hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, he could come back when Adam wasn’t so sad, when things weren’t so broken.

He raised himself into the air, his wings fluttering weakly as he prepared to leave. But just as he was about to fly away, Adam called out one last time, his voice broken and fragile.

"Lucifer…"

Lucifer turned, hope flaring in his chest, only for it to shatter with Adam’s next words.

"Don’t come back."

It felt like the ground had fallen away beneath him. Lucifer hovered in the air, staring at Adam with wide, pained eyes. He wanted to scream, to protest, to tell Adam that he couldn’t leave him like this. But the words wouldn’t come. All he could do was watch as Adam stood there, tears streaming down his face, his golden eyes filled with a pain that made Lucifer’s heart break.

Swallowing hard, Lucifer nodded, his wings beating slowly as he turned away.

Adam collapsed to his knees with a sharp, broken gasp, the sound catching in his throat as the flood of emotions overwhelmed him. His golden eyes blurred completely with tears, spilling hot and unchecked down his flushed cheeks. His sobs wracked his body, each one pulling him deeper into the confusing, unbearable pain that clutched his chest. He didn’t understand. He didn’t know why it hurt this much, why the very thought of Lucifer leaving him, of never seeing him again, felt like a piece of his heart had been torn away.

Why did he care so much? Why did it feel like the world was crumbling around him for an angel he hadn’t even known until a few short years ago?

Yet, as Adam’s tears fell freely, the sorrow in his heart deepening with every ragged breath, he felt the soft fluttering of feathers and the gentle touch of his beloved peacocks. One by one, they swarmed around him, surrounding him in a cocoon of warmth and comfort, as if they too could feel the ache in their master’s heart.

Cain, with his fiery red and black plumage, pushed his way into Adam’s arms, nuzzling his sharp beak against Adam’s tear-streaked chest. He cooed softly, as if to say, I’m here, you’re not alone. Adam’s trembling hands instinctively reached out to hold the bird close, burying his fingers in Cain’s feathers. Cain had always been protective, always ready to hiss and snap at anyone who threatened Adam, but now he was gentle, quiet—his anger replaced by a deep empathy that mirrored the heartbreak in Adam’s soul.

Abel, his softer, more delicate counterpart, stood a short distance away, gazing mournfully in the direction Lucifer had flown. The usual brightness in his white and pink feathers dimmed as if he, too, felt the absence of the angel. Abel tilted his head, eyes filled with sadness, and let out a low, sorrowful trill, as though even he missed Lucifer already.

Adam’s sobs only grew louder as he held Cain tighter, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions.

“Why?” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “Why does it hurt so much?”

His tears fell faster, dripping onto Cain’s feathers as he clutched the bird close, shaking his head in confusion. I don’t understand.

The pain in his heart was unlike anything he had ever felt. He had been happy in the garden—content in his simple existence, tending to the Tree of Life, surrounded by the peacocks and the beauty of Hera’s creation. He had known nothing of longing or love until Lucifer had appeared. And now… now, everything was tangled, broken, and raw.

The memories of Lucifer—his teasing smile, his playful winks, the way his blue eyes sparkled when he talked about Lilith—flashed through Adam’s mind, each one tightening the knot in his chest. A part of him had always known Lucifer was different, but never like this. Never so deeply that it left him breathless, left him aching when the angel wasn’t nearby.

Adam whimpered softly, wiping at his tears in vain as they continued to fall.

“Was it all a lie?” he choked out, staring blankly at the ground, his voice barely a whisper.

Did Lucifer ever really care about me? Or had he been nothing more than a tool, a way to get to the Apple of Knowledge? The thought made Adam’s heart shatter all over again.

Cain’s gentle nuzzles against his chest brought a flicker of comfort, but it wasn’t enough to erase the deep wound Lucifer had unknowingly left behind. Adam tried to steady his breathing, tried to stop the sobs from spilling out of him, but it was no use. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Lucifer’s face—saw the moment his wings sagged under the weight of Adam’s rejection, saw the heartbreak reflected in his eyes when Adam told him to leave.

Cain cooed softly again, his feathers brushing against Adam’s tear-soaked face, trying to offer whatever comfort he could. But Adam’s chest still burned with the ache of loss, the confusion of feelings he couldn’t quite understand.

As Abel let out another low trill, Adam’s shoulders slumped, his body trembling. He buried his face into Cain’s feathers, allowing himself to fall apart under the weight of his emotions. For the first time in his life, Adam felt something more than simple happiness, more than curiosity about the world. He felt pain—raw, real, and overwhelming.

And in the quiet of Hera’s Garden, with only the sound of his sobs and the soft rustle of feathers around him, Adam realized just how deeply he had fallen for the angel who had stolen his heart.

Lucifer.

The one who was never supposed to come back.

“So, this is the love Aphrodite spoke off.”

The only red apple on the Tree of Life fell, landing softly on the ground behind Adam—glowing faintly, like a heart slowly fading into darkness.

~#~

Adam didn't know how long it had been since he’d cast Lucifer out of the garden. Days bled into months, each one stretching endlessly, empty and quiet. The only reminder of the angel’s presence was the red apple Adam now held in his hands, its vibrant hue stark against the muted backdrop of Hera’s Garden. He gazed down at it wearily, rolling it back and forth between his palms. The apple was still warm, though not with the overwhelming, electric pulse it had carried before—just a gentle heat that felt strangely alive, as though it held onto something from Lucifer.

With a sigh, Adam lifted his eyes to the branches above, wondering why it had fallen. What was the meaning of this strange, new apple? His golden eyes dimmed with the weight of the question. There was no answer. There was only the ache in his heart, a dull, ever-present pain that he had begun to accept as part of himself.

Carefully, Adam bent down and placed the apple between the roots of the Tree of Life, as though returning it to the earth might return something he had lost. He sat beside it, propping his elbows on his knees, and exhaled deeply.

Maybe Aphrodite is watching me now, he thought bitterly, his lips twisting into a sad smile.

The goddess of love, always revelling in the pain her craft brought. Was she somewhere, laughing at him? Delighting in the sight of his despair?

The greatest story, huh?

Adam sniffed, closing his eyes. He had stopped crying after the first few months, and now all that was left was the hollow emptiness, the slow, creeping acceptance that maybe his heart would never fully heal. It would have been better, easier, if he had never met Lucifer at all.

He was about to stand when a sudden warmth bloomed beside him, and he gasped in surprise. He turned his head, wide-eyed, only to be met with a vision of beauty so breathtaking that for a moment, he thought he was dreaming.

Aphrodite, the Goddess of Love, sat beside him, her presence like a shimmering sunset, her golden curls glowing as they tumbled down her back. Her smile was radiant, though there was something mischievous in the curve of her lips, something far too knowing. With a delicate touch, she brushed her fingertips along Adam’s cheek, leaving behind the faintest warmth that made him shudder. He snapped his head up in bewilderment, unsure whether to recoil or lean into her touch.

“Aphrodite…” he breathed, his voice a whisper of disbelief.

She chuckled softly, her laughter light and teasing. "Yes, my dear. You don't need to get up." She waved a graceful hand, and at her command, a bed of small pink flowers bloomed at her feet, delicate and heart-shaped, their petals hanging like tiny teardrops. Adam blinked, astonished, as he looked at them. He had never seen such flowers in Hera’s Garden before.

“What... what are these?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide in curiosity and grief.

Aphrodite smiled, her eyes glinting with amusement as she gestured to the flowers.

"Dicentras," she explained softly, “Also known as bleeding hearts. They symbolize heartbreak and the sorrow of losing someone you love.”

Adam’s heart clenched at her words. The beauty of the flowers seemed almost cruel in their meaning, a reflection of the ache deep in his chest. He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the fresh wave of emotion that threatened to overcome him.

Of course, he thought bitterly. Of course, she would bring these.

“So?” Aphrodite questioned, something dangerously, something amused in the curve of her red lips. “How did you enjoy my Angel?”

“Angel? So…Lucifer really was the Angel…you swore me to secrecy?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly. He glanced up at the goddess, his gaze sharp and full of pain. “Were you… were you proud of him?””

A laugh escaped the Goddess. “Oh, my sweet Addie, did you forget? Of course, Luci was my Angel~ I crafted him to be special for you~”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, and he looked at her with broken, disbelieving eyes. His heart twisted painfully in his chest.

“So… so you really were the one who made him?” His voice trembled. “You’re the reason he—”

The goddess cut him off with an airy wave of her hand. “Of course. You needed to experience love, didn’t you? It’s something Hera would never understand.”

Her eyes gleamed with a cruel kind of joy, a sickening delight at the heartache she had so carefully orchestrated.

Adam shook his head, tears threatening to well up again as he looked at her. This time, there was no awe in his gaze, only coldness—a bitterness that had taken root deep in his soul. Aphrodite seemed to revel in it, her eyes twinkling with delight.

“Why?” he asked, his voice hoarse with pain. “Why did you make me fall for him? For Lucifer? When he… when he loves someone else?”

Aphrodite tilted her head, her pink lips curling into a sly, knowing smile. Her golden curls shimmered in the light as she regarded Adam with a bemused expression.

“And how are you so sure,” she purred, “That Lucifer is in love with Lilith?”

Adam’s eyes narrowed, his suspicion flaring. He took a defensive step back, shaking his head.

“This… this isn’t a show for you to marvel at,” he whispered, his voice thick with anger and grief. “My pain… it’s not your entertainment.”

Aphrodite threw her head back and laughed, the sound rich and joyful, echoing through the garden like the pealing of bells.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, reaching out as though to brush another strand of hair from Adam’s face, though he flinched away. “Your story isn’t over. Not yet. There is so much more to come, and I can hardly wait to witness it all.”

Adam’s breath hitched, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. He turned away, his gaze lingering on the heart-shaped flowers at his feet, their pink petals glistening like tears. His heart throbbed painfully, and though he knew Aphrodite was right—that his story wasn’t finished—he couldn’t help but wish it was.

Because, right now, he wasn’t sure he could take any more of this heartbreak.

“You know, Addie, perhaps forgiveness might be the key to something greater.” Aphrodite hinted knowingly. Her sharp blue eyes flickering towards the hidden Apple of Love. Her apple. “Maybe...you should consider taking a bite~”

Closing his eyes exhaustedly, Adam sighed. He didn’t want to be hurt again.

~#~

Adam tried to ignore the apple of love, the one Aphrodite had left behind like a cruel reminder. He wanted nothing more than to forget it existed, but his resolve weakened every time he returned to the Tree of Life. Despite Cain's watchful, disapproving gaze, Adam found himself holding the red apple in his hands, turning it over and over, its smooth surface warming under his touch.

He couldn't stop wondering about what Aphrodite had said. To bite the apple of love—what would happen to me? The thought was sinful, troubling, but it dug itself deep into his mind. What would Hera, his mother, say if she knew? Would she be disappointed, furious? Or was it destiny, like Aphrodite implied, to feel this pain, to be tempted by love’s impossible promise?

Adam sighed, resting his forehead against his knees as he sat beneath the sprawling branches. The apple's warmth soothed him, but it also gnawed at his thoughts, pulling him into dangerous territory. He found himself questioning more than just his own feelings.

Why can’t anyone take an apple from the Tree of Life? The question spiraled inside him, growing heavier. Why wasn’t Lucifer allowed to take the apple of knowledge? If they were forbidden, then why did they exist at all? Adam furrowed his brow, his chest tightening with the weight of it all. Hera had once said that the tree would be used for mankind in the future, but why wasn’t he allowed to take from it now?

Adam shook his head, trying to shake off the unease, but his thoughts continued to spiral. He was absentmindedly playing with the fallen apple of love when something unexpected happened—something that made his heart skip a beat.

Lucifer had returned.

Adam didn’t hear him at first. Lucifer moved like a shadow, carefully avoiding the attention of the peacocks that lounged about the garden. He knew they wouldn’t take kindly to him, especially not after Adam had told him to leave. And Cain—Cain would be even worse. Lucifer’s wings twitched nervously at the thought of another encounter with the fiery bird.

But he had to try. He had to see Adam. His heart hadn’t been the same since the day Adam had cast him out. The pain of it had gnawed at him relentlessly, and no matter how many times he’d told himself to stay away, he couldn’t. He needed to make Adam understand.

Lucifer landed softly, his gaze darting across the garden. He froze when he saw one of the peacocks watching him, its feathers rippling like a threat. Lucifer’s wings tensed, ready to defend himself. But then the bird stepped out from the shadows, revealing itself to be Abel, his soft pink and white feathers gleaming in the moonlight.

Lucifer sighed in relief; his breath shaky. He crouched down to Abel’s height, whispering urgently, “I’m not here to hurt him, Abel. I just need to see him. Please... My heart hasn’t been the same since that day.”

Abel stared up at him with eyes full of hurt and distrust, his wings twitching as though he could hardly bear to look at Lucifer. But as Lucifer knelt closer, his voice softer, he pleaded, “I know you’re disappointed in me. I didn’t mean to hurt him, Abel. I didn’t. I’m going to make it right. I just need your help.”

For a long, agonizing moment, Abel’s feathers bristled. Lucifer thought for sure the peacock would turn away or call Cain to attack him, but to his surprise, Abel eventually nodded. Without a word, he turned and led Lucifer toward the Tree of Life. Lucifer followed cautiously, his heart pounding with hope.

Abel doesn’t hate me, he thought. There’s still a chance.

As they neared the great tree, Lucifer's breath caught in his throat. The Tree of Life had grown larger, its branches sprawling even more majestically than before. But his blue eyes didn’t linger on the tree for long. All he could focus on was Adam.

Adam sat beneath the tree, bathed in the soft golden light of the sunset, the red apple resting in his hands. Lucifer’s chest tightened at the sight of him. He looked so lost, so fragile, and yet... so beautiful. Lucifer could hardly breathe.

For a moment, he simply watched, unsure of how to approach. But then, a furious squawk shattered the silence, and Lucifer barely managed to dodge as Cain swooped down, claws extended. Lucifer braced for impact, but Abel was faster. In a blur of white feathers, Abel pinned his brother to the ground, shocking both Adam and Lucifer.

Adam blinked in disbelief, his golden eyes wide as Abel casually settled himself atop Cain, keeping him from attacking. Cain struggled beneath him, hissing and spitting, but it was no use—Abel wasn’t moving.

Both Adam and Lucifer stared at each other, frozen in place, neither saying a word. Time seemed to stretch between them, the weight of their unspoken words filling the air. Adam’s hands trembled, and before he could stop himself, the red apple slipped from his fingers, tumbling across the grass.

Lucifer moved instinctively, reaching down to pick it up before Adam could. His fingers brushed over the apple’s smooth surface, and for a moment, the two of them were caught in another staring contest, the apple cradled in Lucifer’s hands like a fragile connection between them.

Adam swallowed hard, his eyes flicking to the apple and then back to Lucifer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, though his voice lacked the conviction it once held.

“I know,” Lucifer said softly, his gaze never leaving Adam’s face. “But I had to come. I couldn’t stay away.”

Adam’s heart wavered, torn between the hurt he still felt and the undeniable pull of his feelings for the angel.

“Why... why now?” he asked, his voice breaking.

Lucifer hesitated, his eyes flickering with something raw, something that looked almost like pain. “Because I need you to know... it wasn’t about the apple. It wasn’t about anything else. It was always about you, Adam. I came back for you.”

Adam’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his resolve crumbled. But then, as the apple lay between them, he remembered Aphrodite’s words, the cruel twist of fate that had brought them here. His eyes darkened with the weight of it all.

“I don’t know if I can believe you,” Adam whispered, his voice filled with a sadness that made Lucifer’s chest ache.

The silence between them stretched on, heavy and uncertain, as the red apple gleamed in Lucifer’s hands, a reminder of the love and heartbreak that now bound them together.

Lucifer inhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling as if the weight of the moment pressed against him. His voice was soft, tender, as though he feared breaking the fragile thread between them. “You’re half right,” he began, eyes never leaving Adam’s weary gaze.

Adam turned his head slightly, exhaustion evident in the lines of his face. The pain was still fresh, raw. It was too much, and Lucifer could see it, could feel it hanging heavy in the air between them.

“I thought I was in love with Lilith,” Lucifer admitted, his words trembling like a confession long buried. “I thought... what I felt for her was love. I did come to take the Apple of Knowledge to give to her.”

Adam’s body tensed at the reminder, his heart sinking with a familiar ache. He began to turn away, not wanting to hear more, not wanting to be drawn into Lucifer’s honeyed words again. He had fallen for them before, only to be left shattered.

But Lucifer approached him delicately, his fingers cradling the red apple of love as if it were something sacred. His voice dropped to a whisper, laced with vulnerability. “It couldn’t have been love, because the moment I met you, Adam... you changed everything. You turned my world upside down.”

Adam tried to steady his breath, forcing his attention elsewhere. His fingers dug into the grass beneath him as if trying to anchor himself, trying to resist the pull of Lucifer’s presence. But it was hard. So hard.

Lucifer kneeled beside him, his movements slow and careful, as though approaching a wounded animal. His fingers brushed against Adam’s chin, soft and deliberate, turning Adam’s face toward his own. Their eyes met, and Adam found himself lost again in those endless blue depths—depths that once felt like home but now felt dangerous.

“I fell in love with you,” Lucifer whispered, the words trembling with sincerity. “The real reason I kept sneaking into the garden wasn’t to take anything—it was to see you. I couldn’t stay away. I needed to be near you. I loved the way you looked at me, the way you spoke, the way you made me feel alive.”

Adam’s heart clenched, the familiar pang of betrayal fighting against the undeniable pull Lucifer still had over him. He tried to harden himself, to block it out. But Lucifer’s hand moved gently to his own, guiding it toward his chest, pressing it there.

Adam’s eyes widened in surprise as he felt it—Lucifer’s heart, racing beneath his hand. A wild, frantic beat that seemed to mirror the chaos within Adam’s own chest.

“I’ve been in agony since you told me to leave,” Lucifer continued, his voice low and pleading. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to come back every moment, to hold you, to make things right.”

Adam shook his head, his throat tight. “I can’t believe you,” he whispered, the weight of disbelief and longing tearing at his resolve.

Lucifer’s grip on his hand tightened gently, his blue eyes piercing through Adam’s uncertainty.

“But you named me,” he said, his voice barely above a breath, filled with a kind of awe. “No one’s ever named me before. Steve, Lilith—they tried, but I never accepted it. I hated every name that was given to me. But the name you gave me, ‘Luci’... it felt right.”

Adam blinked, his heart faltering as he stared at Lucifer. “I... I don’t understand,” he murmured, confused by the depth of emotion in Lucifer’s voice.

“We were always meant to find each other,” Lucifer said, his tone firm with conviction. “I didn’t realize it then, but I do now. You were meant to name me. We were always meant to be... together.”

Adam’s lips parted, but no words came. His mind was spinning, his emotions a tangled mess of pain, anger, and something he didn’t want to admit. Lucifer's words, his presence—it all broke through the walls he had tried so hard to build.

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he looked down at the red apple still in his hand. His voice was gentle as he asked, “What is this apple, Adam?”

Adam’s breath caught, his throat tight as he whispered, “It’s Aphrodite’s apple. The apple of love.”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, genuine surprise flickering across his face. “I didn’t know...”

“I didn’t know my mother had an apple like this,” he said softly, as though the revelation meant something deeper to him.

Tears brimmed in Adam’s eyes again, the ache in his chest becoming unbearable. He looked at Lucifer, feeling so utterly broken, but so desperate for something—anything—to make sense.

Lucifer moved closer, his hand finding Adam’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped free. The touch was tender, comforting in a way that made Adam want to cry even harder. Then, with a determined glint in his eye, Lucifer brought the apple of love to his lips. He bit into its soft, pink flesh, a burst of sweetness filling his mouth.

Before Adam could react, Lucifer leaned in, his breath warm against Adam’s trembling lips. And then, in one swift, overwhelming moment, their lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, but intense, and it wasn’t just the sensation of their mouths coming together—it was something deeper, something that felt like their very souls were intertwining. The taste of the apple lingered on their lips, sweet and intoxicating, but there was something more to it—something powerful.

Adam’s heart raced, his mind whirling, as he realized what was happening. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was something more, something that tied them together in a way he hadn’t expected. His body trembled, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of it all.

Lucifer pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around him protectively as if he was afraid to ever let go again.

“I love you, Adam,” he whispered against his lips. “I always have. We’re meant to be together.”

The words echoed in Adam’s mind, breaking through every barrier he had built. It was painful, bittersweet, and yet... it felt real. It felt like something he had been searching for his entire life.

Tears slipped from his eyes as he pulled back slightly, breathless and trembling. He looked into Lucifer’s eyes, searching for any sign of falsehood, but all he saw was sincerity. Love.

And in that moment, Adam realized—he couldn’t fight it anymore. This love, this connection—it was undeniable. Heartbreaking and beautiful all at once.

He had fallen. They both had, just as Aphrodite had intended for them to be.

~#~

Adam trembled, his whole body aching with pure agony and pain, a sensation that gripped him tightly as he lay amidst the red and black waxy ground of the abyss. He wheezed sharply, struggling to push himself up, his muscles quaking as he slowly looked up through the misty redness swirling above him. The ceiling loomed overhead like a dark shroud, an oppressive weight pressing down upon him.

He had just been punished. The harsh reality of Hera’s wrath still lingered in his bones, an electric reminder of the fury that had rained down upon him. She had towered over him, a goddess with eyes like storm clouds, her face contorted with rage. Adam had shrunk within himself, her anger crackling in the air like lightning, each word she hurled at him igniting a deeper sense of despair. Even now, he struggled to comprehend what he had done that was so wrong. He had given the Apple of Knowledge to Lucifer after a passionate night spent entwined in each other’s arms, and in the aftermath, Lucifer had promised to bring it to the humans in Eden, swearing he would return. But he hadn’t.

Instead, the heavens had descended upon him with a wrath that felt all-consuming. Hera, in her fury, had punished him severely, casting him into this endless abyss, where Adam hit the ground painfully.

 “Since you love the forsaken angel so dearly, then you can join him in the pit of sins,” she had hissed, her words curling around him like smoke.

The memories of that moment clawed at his heart, echoing in the silence of his surroundings.

But then, suddenly, a voice cut through the haze, calling his name, a lifeline thrown into the chaos. Adam barely managed to turn his head as someone flew through the crimson mist toward him. Lucifer landed gracefully, urgency etched on his face, and raced toward Adam, gathering him up in his arms.

“Adam!” Lucifer’s voice was a mixture of relief and despair, and Adam fought to focus on his face, but darkness soon claimed him, pulling him under until he fell unconscious.

When Adam awoke, he found himself enveloped in something he had never experienced before. A bed, soft and welcoming, adorned with royal purple sheets and quilts that wrapped around him like a cocoon. Red curtains framed the bed, creating an intimate sanctuary amidst the chaos he had known. The walls were a deep royal red, patterned with shades of purple, and everywhere he looked, he was met with a surprising sight—rubber ducks. Each one was unique, scattered around the room like tiny pieces of joy.

Curiosity nudged him, and he slowly moved to slip off the bed, but his legs buckled beneath him, sending him teetering toward the ground. Just then, Lucifer appeared beside him, hurrying to catch Adam before he fell. His red and gold eyes pulsed with worry, a contrast to the vibrant hues of the room.

“Are you okay?” Lucifer whispered; his voice laced with tenderness.

Adam stared at Lucifer’s face, taking in the details as if he were memorizing a masterpiece. “You look different,” he said softly, his brow furrowing.

Lucifer’s cheeks flushed with a hint of shyness, and he brushed a hand through his slicked-back hair.

“Do you think I’m gross now?” he asked, vulnerability threading through his words.

Adam shook his head vigorously, his heart swelling with warmth. “Of course not! You’re still beautiful,” he replied, a sincerity behind his voice that resonated deep within him.

A sigh of relief escaped Lucifer’s lips, and he leaned in to kiss Adam again, the gesture sweet and filled with longing.

As their lips parted, he whispered against Adam’s mouth, “But you’ve changed too.”

Adam frowned in confusion; his curiosity piqued. “What do you mean?”

Lucifer hesitated for a moment, his expression conflicted, before he took Adam’s hand and led him toward a mirror standing elegantly against the wall. When Adam caught sight of himself, his breath hitched in his throat, the reflection revealing a form he hardly recognized.

His cheeks were rounder, dusted with a soft pink tint that glowed with life. But what truly captivated him were the magnificent wings cascading down his back—long and plush, they fluttered softly with a mesmerizing gradient of green and blue, interwoven with hints of orange. They resembled the regal plumes of a peacock, each feather alive with shimmering eyes that sparkled in gold, purple, and orange, echoing the vibrant hues sprouting from his hair.

“Lucifer!” he gasped; his eyes wide with astonishment. “I look like a peacock!”

Lucifer chuckled softly, a glimmer of pride in his gaze. “You’re gorgeous, Adam. You always have been.”

The two exchanged a long, loving look, the connection between them deepening, unbreakable. But then, concern seeped into Adam’s expression, and he asked, “What happened?”

Lucifer sighed deeply, shaking his head as he led Adam back to the bed. They crawled under the quilts, seeking comfort in each other’s warmth.

“After you picked the Apple of Knowledge,” he began, his voice heavy with sorrow, “you gave it to Lilith. At first, nothing happened. The other angels were furious and created a new wife for Steve—a woman named Eve. But then Lilith wanted to free Eve too and tried to give the apple to her. Eve accepted it and bit into it.”

Adam listened intently, his heart pounding as he grasped the gravity of what had transpired. “What happened next?” he asked, gently caressing Lucifer’s cheek, the fallen angel leaning into the touch.

Lucifer’s expression darkened as he continued, “I don’t know why Zeus showed himself then, but when he did, he was furious. He cast Eve out of Eden, and Steve... he must really love her because he decided to leave Eden to be with Eve.”

Silence enveloped them, and Adam could feel the weight of it pressing against him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort Lucifer, to reassure him that everything would be alright.

“That’s why you didn’t come back,” Adam said quietly, realization dawning upon him.

Lucifer nodded; his expression tormented. “Every day down here was torture. I wanted to come back to you, Adam. I was so worried about what the gods would do to you.”

Adam swallowed hard, the ache in his heart deepening. “Hera was furious. She was even more enraged when she discovered I had actually given you the apple.”

A look of pain crossed Lucifer’s face, and he clenched his jaw. “I hate them,” he said bitterly. “I hate the gods. Even my own mother, Aphrodite.”

Adam leaned in, kissing him sweetly, a soft gesture meant to soothe the wounds that ran deep between them. But then, as he pulled back, a troubling thought entered his mind—the realization that Lilith was down here too, and there was a possibility he could meet her.

Lucifer sensed the shift in Adam’s emotions, and he tightened his arms around him, pulling him closer.

“Lilith created a castle for herself,” he reassured softly. “We can visit her later. But for now, I just want to be with you.”

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and the spoke of the mansion he had created for them, with its glorious apple tree garden, hope shining in his eyes.

“I hope you’ll like it,” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

Adam nuzzled his bird-like face against Lucifer’s, his heart swelling with affection.

“I’m sure I will,” he murmured. “And this time, we can pick all the apples we want.”

Lucifer grinned at that, a smile breaking through the weight of their shared sorrows. In that moment, the abyss that had once threatened to swallow them whole felt a little less suffocating, a little more like a place where they could forge a new beginning together. The pain and heartbreak would always be a part of them, but so too would be love—a love that was fierce, tender, and unyielding.

"Yes! Let's pick all the apples with want!"

[dailyadventureprompts]

Adventure: Shadow of the Harvest Moon

Most imagine the shadowfell as a dreadful and dreary place, but there are islands of solace in the underworld, such as the realm of Dwindlehearth which manifests as a pastoral village rendered in an eternal autumn sunset. It is a place where those who were lonely in life find kinship in the folkish festivals put on by the attendant spirits, where those too stubborn to accept the end can work themselves to satisfied exhaustion in the fields before retiring in comfort, and where those never had enough can stay in on a rainy day and enjoy a filling meal by a warm fire. It is a good death, a good afterlife, the sort we would wish for those we loved dearest to allow their memory to fade most gracefully.

But Something is wrong in Dwindlehearth

Rot spreads through the fields and the shades can find no solace, foul things stalk at the edge of dark woods, clouds cover the face of the ember-warm sun and part to reveal a cold and leering moon, too low and with it's own strange, superntatural gravity.

If the dead are to know peace once again, something must be done.

Hooks:

After their latest bout of occupational grave desecration the party are called upon by the deathgod Nerull to help sort things out, whatever's causing the problem is hidden from his sight and he'll forgive them their literal and figurative trespasses if they can root out whatever corruption is twisting his pastoral realm into a nightmare.

Most shades in Dwindlehearth have varying levels of awareness, identities growing hazier the closer they get to moving on. The rot seems to remind them of all their regrets and failings, preserving their worst aspects while the rest of them atrophies. This is to say nothing of when the night descends unexpectedly, and those shades worst affected transform into monsters, or nightmarish hauntings.

Investigating the source of the corruption will prove difficult, but perhaps the party can get the aid of one of the attendant psychopomps ( most of whom are busy fighting the rot and fending off incursions from unseen enemies at the village's border) or by taking inconstant direction to seek out Dwindlehearth's mayor ( a position the psychopomps have no memory of appointing) who turns out to be a still living necromancer resided on an estate that she's transported to the middle of the death god's domain (especially if the party encountered hear early in the campaign). She's willing to help, but only if the party put in a good word for her with Nerull, as she's grown to quite enjoy the surroundigns.

Behind all the problems in Dwindlehearth is Zuggtmoy, demon queen of despair and decay, who saw the pastoral stillness of the village as the perfect place to spread her stagnation. Her influence drives souls to bitter, resentful, remembrance, priming them for transformation into foul minions.

Speaking of Minions, Zuggtmoy's influence was carried to the village by the departed soul of one of her priests, a poet mired in morbid melancholy by the name of Blaine Blackstem, who got one of the psychopomps to carry him over Nerrull's wards. Blaine was never a good poet, but his mistress's gifts and the nightmare landscape have transformed him into a looming scarecrow figure, striding through the fields sowing rot and then taking grisly inspiration as how the souls twist.

A number of Zuggtmoy's other fiendish minions probe the border of Dwindlehearth just waiting for a large enough breach to pour in, Blaine aims to accommodate them by creating an army of pumpkin monsters and setting them lose to overwhelm the psychopomps leaving the village undefended.

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

[hearthandheathenry]

All About Mabon

Mabon is the name given to the pagan and Wiccan holiday that is celebrated on the autumn equinox. This year, it falls on September 22nd in the northern hemisphere. Although celebrations have been happening on the autumn equinox for centuries, Mabon as we know it today is a holiday coined and created around the 70s by new-age paganism and Wicca, named after the Welsh God. Although it doesn't have ancient roots, it does take inspiration from other autumn harvest festivals and participants have created beautiful ways to celebrate the neo-pagan holiday.

Just like other autumn equinox festivals, the main theme of Mabon seems to be one of transitioning seasons and giving thanks to the harvest and honoring nature. Many people consider it the pagan version of "Thanksgiving" as both holidays share many of the same symbolism and draw from seasonal items. Cornucopias play a big part in the symbolism of Mabon, representing a bountiful harvest, along with apples as well. Many people gather, feast, and spend time preparing for the long winter ahead as the days now grow shorter. Balance and scales also play a big role in celebrations due to the equinox, making it a great time to reflect on the give and take of life.

There doesn't seem to be one set way to celebrate Mabon due to its recent nature, so participants are encouraged to simply lean on the underlying themes of the holiday and celebrate in the ways that speak to them as they enjoy the universal shift in seasons.

Mabon Associations:

Colors - red, orange, brown, yellow, gold

Food - apples, squash, bread, corn, grains, root vegetables, grapes, nuts, pomegranates, wine, beer, cider, cinnamon

Animals - farm animals

Items - cornucopias, corn stalks, harvest tools, scales, acorns, autumn leaves

Crystals - amber, citrine, jasper, obsidian

Other - balance, change, thankfulness, reflection, letting go

Ways to celebrate:

have a feast

gather with loved ones and give thanks

write a list of everything you're grateful for

have a bonfire

decorate your home with Mabon and Autumn symbolism

harvest food from your garden

visit a farmers market

bake bread or pie

cook autumn themed food

write down goals for the coming season

create a Mabon altar

donate your time or money to those in need

go apple picking

cleanse and ward your home

stock up on food for winter

[heretyc]

Carnival [Barbi x Reader] [SHORT] [Maneater! AU]

Based on the Bambino gamemode and the Fun Park maps. I forget the therapy names like the dumbass that I am lmfao. But there are currently two in the gamemode. Both of which involve heart stew, which is what inspired me. Every time I play them I'm like "this is so Maneater core" lol. I'm FINALLY feeling better! So this is a little writing exercise to get me into doing requests and answering asks. Enjoy.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, the scent of gore and candy floss met your nose; your spot in Barbi's side contributed to the joy, the man warm as can be and smelling of the cologne he bought the day of your honeymoon.

"Isn't this place beautiful?" You breathed in, enjoying the combination of decay and sweetness. The theme park, despite being coated in old coats of blood, was able to inspire glee into you.

Barbi simply chuckled, pressing his lips to your temple, "Course it is. I had a feeling we'd enjoy this place." He then scowled, "Was never good at the fuckin' games, though. I barely came to these as a kid because of it."

You knew that wasn't the reason; "my dad never took me" was the obvious answer, but you knew of his past, and knew better than to pry. So you worked with his answer.

"Which games?"

"The ones where you have to aim," he shook his head, "Fuckin' scams, I tell ya."

"And yet you have Lupara," you snickered, "Surely your aim has improved."

"Damn straight sweetness," he chortled, wrapping his arm around yours, "Now let's go have some fuckin' fun."

The two of you walked around the theme park, ignoring the ex-pops that muttered angrily to themselves and the Reagent that gave you two an expression that could only say, "what the actual fuck are those two doing".

You came to learn that there were games, up and running, and you two walked into the diner, to see pots of hearts, all set up.

"Is it Christmas already?" You snickered, leaning to smell the stew with a moan. Inside laid a red liquid, thick and full of clots. "God, it's fresh."

"Is it?" Barbi teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, "Only my Maneater would know when a body part is fuckin' fresh." His gloved thumb affectionately rubbed your side.

"It's quite obvious," you picked up one of the organs, squeezing it tightly. "See? Bright red, not counting the blood it was surrounded in. Like it was harvested just today...maybe even an hour ago..." You stuck out your tongue, giving the organ a lick.

"Is it up to my woman's satisfaction?" He raised a brow, to which he was responded to with a nod. "Absolutely."

Barbi snickered at your enthusiasm before looking at the large, shuttered door. "Oh, sweetness?" He motioned to the sign and the button, "The hearts are our...hackey sacks, so to speak."

You merely scoffed, "They expect us to waste these? Disgusting."

You amused him in ways he didn't think were possible; he let out a snort, "I know! What a fuckin' travesty. But I have an idea."

"...Lupara?"

He smirked, pulling the beloved gun from his bandolier, and a homemade bullet. "Bingo, baby."

The Reagent knew better than to question your lack of teaming up against him, but he stared in shock upon seeing the two of you walk up to him, three tickets in Barbi's hand. "Here, fuckwad," he shoved them into the Reagent's chest as you snacked on a heart, your other arm full of the plump organs. "We'll let Goosebitch deal with ya."

"...Um," the Reagent pursed his lips, "Aren't you supposed to, um..."

"Supposed to what?" Barbi snapped, sitting you two down on a bench to watch the carousel, "Chase ya? Fuck no. Our honeymoon was soiled," he motioned to the two of you, "so we're makin' up for it. That an issue, you fuckin' mutt?"

The Reagent was quick to shake his head and run off toward the Root Canal.

"He's thick in the head, isn't he?" You questioned, swallowing a mouthful of chamber. Barbi nodded his head, popping open a soda bottle with the end of Lupara. "Seems to be."

It was silent, save for the loud carousel and its music, until you grinned, "It's something I'd like to try."

"That's my Maneater," he snickered, using his free hand to pull you into him as he took a swig of the root beer. "I love ya, sugar."

"And I love you with all of my...hearts."

The two of you silently prayed the Reagent wouldn't make it...just so you could stay in here for as long as you pleased.

And so you could eat the remains.

[punkpandapatrixk]

Full Harvest Moon in Aries ♦︎ Moon Magick Pick A Card

In my experience, Full Harvest Moon is always significant for those who are more spiritually attuned. This period allows—almost forces, actually—us to die to the previous cycle of our lives much like the trees shedding their leaves. This is a period of slowing down; of calm but maybe also a little bit of depression; of sweeping changes and moving places; of pausing and recalibration; which could cause a sickening sense of losing control of our lives, though in reality, we’re just being prepared for a massive transformation.

If anything, all these changes are the perfect answers to all you’ve prayed for! It’s harvest time for a lot of us! Some of us are having a mini harvest but those are results nevertheless. You’ve done marvellously well to be here right now. And haven’t you grown so much? I’m grateful you’ve made it this far.

Speak into existence your higher intent this Harvest Moon. Be at peace knowing that whatever transpires, everything works out in your favour. Your manifestations are protected, more than you may realise. Work on beautifying all elements of your Life, taking care of all aspects of your physical and spiritual health, and most of all, enjoy Life. All the changes you’ve managed to manifest thus far. There’s plenty more coming but you can’t compete with Destiny, yeah?

All in Divine Timing~🌕Congratulations and happy harvest~🌾

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Pile 1 – Returning to the Essentials

intent – Ace of Pentacles

You’ve made it exceedingly clear to the Universe that you want a higher sense of stability in your Life. You might’ve come from a background of poverty mindset or that your environment was brimming with individuals operating on lack mindset. A lot of the people you used to surround yourself with were literal peasants in that they’re always hungry for something more… but won’t work on themselves to become a vibrational match to those higher desires. So, essentially, beggars. Beggars for love, for money, attention, recognition, status, you name it.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting those seemingly unspiritual things, what is a problem is the sense of underserving of those things that people won’t even make the first step towards planting those seeds of manifestation for their own personal fulfilment. Such people only end up with rotten envy, jealousy, spite, bitterness, and even resentment. You saw all of that. Swam in an ocean of such mindsets and tendencies. You finally woke up and said, ‘I want none of that nonsense anymore. None of it is natural. I want out!’

sow – 4 of Cups

So, you ejected yourself from those situations and possibly burnt some bridges. It was better to be alone and work on the essentials. You get to know yourself better that way, all strengths and weaknesses, all opportunities and challenges. You’ve enjoyed learning and studying things that inspire you to continue to build a sparkly Life, right? You’ve worked plenty hard on your own fixing your internal compass, haven’t you? None of that will ever go to waste. You were creating vibrational pathways towards your Highest Possible Intended Destiny. It’s time to begin anew with your visions. Your plans are taking shape. You can see clearly where to step in your next chapter of hustle.

I guess, you’re still feeling like you’re not quite there yet. Or that it feels like your desired reality is taking its sweet time. I guess you could be struggling with dissatisfaction every now and then. Or that certain days you can’t believe the insane level of boredom that suddenly strikes. Sometimes you wonder if there’s any meaning to all this internal hustle you’ve been doing. But there totally is and the fact of the matter is that you’re building strength and momentum at the present moment. I suspect very strongly you’re going to be insanely busy in the next cycle of your Life. Cherish this period. It probably will never come again and soon enough this chapter is only gonna remain a memory you recount sometimes as part of your Life’s Story.

reap – 4 of Wands

And finally, I’m sure you’re already feeling this without anyone else telling you: you’re returning to the essentials. You’ve rediscovered the essence of your being. The styles that suit you. Pursuits that delight you genuinely. These are the few things that truly matter to you and that’s all you want to spend energy on. If in the past you were frantically chasing a few forms of aesthetics or had a number of dreams to pursue, you’ve narrowed everything down to only the essentials—the ones that truly make you feel excited, alive.

Although it feels like returning to your inner child essence, at the same time, you’re not the old you. You’re completely brand new. You’re like a transcendent version of your truer self in the past. It feels strangely nostalgic but also novel. Like you’re holding this inexplicable paradox inside of you. But the truth is, you’ve simply transcended above the duality of light and dark, good and bad. You’re now living in the non-dualistic 5D version of this Earth Matrix. Congrats! You’ve truly awakened! Welcome to 5D Earth, Master Manifestor~!

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Pile 2 – Your Heart Has the Best Compass

intent – VII The Chariot

First of all, you’re an incredibly intuitive person and to a large extent, I think you’re psychic. You could have one or two of the clairs. Clairvoyance, clairaudience, clairsentience, claircognisance. You are often guided by your intuition to make changes or attempts that may not always look sensible or responsible by other people. But you seem to have disregarded all of other’s expectations or advice. You believed in yourself and decided to pursue something dearly important to your heart. In a manner of speaking, you were following the path of your Destiny, so congrats! You made the right decision. From here on you can only get stronger.

In your physical Reality, I see you experiencing bounds and leaps of good fortune! You don’t need a shooting star to help make your dreams come true now, you are the Star itself. You make what you want come to Light. It’s possible you’re gonna see people in your Reality being more polite, helpful, cuter, kinder, and generally more pleasant. You’d be like, ‘Did I just jump timelines? Is this still the same Earth I’m used to?!’ Well, you quantum jumped into a higher dimension of Reality and you should be proud of all the inner work you’ve done to be in alignment with these higher frequencies!

sow – Knight of Cups

So, this is another water/emotion energy. The Knight here is simply saying you’re ready to take your Life to the next level of happiness—a spiritual variety of contentment whilst living on Earth. I think you want Love? XD You’re beginning to really want what people call ‘5D relationships’. You want to meet your Soul Mates, your Destined Person, your Soul Tribe. You want Love in a peaceful, exciting, creative world. And you’re going to ‘work’ on that. You’ve decided to never let anyone disrespect you for all the weirdness you have to show them. Unapologetic for days. You ain’t afraid to be seen as a bitch, or a weirdo, an alien, or even a villain.

Nevertheless, all that is just the outer package of your person, which is needed to navigate some hardships in Life when they arise. On the inside, you’ve truly become soft, peaceful, content, and I think you’re pretty much happy with where you are in Life now. Out of all the Piles, yours feels most like you’re truly starting something new that you’re passionate about. There’s something you’ve been meaning to do/create/launch which is only needing the right Divine Timing. Once you hit the bell, there’s no snooze button—you’re going on a ride! Life is gonna get super exciting, so stay on your lane because you’re totally on the right path towards changing your Life!

reap – 3 of Pentacles Rx

When your Life finally takes that amazing turn, you’re going to be spoiled by the Universe with a lot of happiness. I’m seeing SO much abundance beyond material means. You’re going to be SO beautiful. I’m seeing a crazy glow up one way or another. Perhaps because now you have access to those things that can support a glow up. New wardrobe. New teeth. New face for some… New country. New house. New everything and you look gorgeous! That said, there are family members or childhood friends who are totally NOT gonna understand your transformation. Yeah… let peasant be peasants if you ask me.

There are those of you who will want to provide for your family/friends with your newfound wealth and if they’re deserving of that, why not? Just please don’t do any of that with the desire to get their approval, and this is especially the case if your family/friends are incredibly toxic. Live for yourself, babe. Share only with those who are deserving. Only you can decide this but ultimately, respect yourself enough to never beg the acknowledgement of those who are already committed to seeing you in a negative light. Never let ANYBODY reduce your accomplishments, transformations, your Light. Never let anybody poop on your parade XD

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Pile 3 – Hand of Fucking Midas

intent – Page of Wands

Okay, in spite of the title, of all the Piles, your energy has a sage vibe to it. I feel like you’ve transformed into a spiritual master of sort. You got away from the Matrix’s rat race. All the riches you used to think you should have in order to feel like you belonged in society have gone out the window. There are so many material things you do not care about anymore. You’ve rediscovered your essence as a spiritual being having a Human experience. It’s all just a Game and you’re going to have the best-value experience whilst being here. You’ve cultivated a mindset of beauty. ‘Nothing is worthwhile if it’s not beautiful.’

You only want to float beautifully until the day you die. The paradox of your existence is that now that you don’t desire anything desperately anymore, everything comes to you ever so effortlessly. Perhaps it really is because you don’t care if it comes to you or not. It’s exactly because you’re free from worries and anxieties that your positive vibrations effortlessly call forth those positive expectations into your energetic field, and surely enough, they manifest in the physical whether or not you really want them. Paradox. Paradox.

sow – 5 of Pentacles

Reiterating the previous message, here is you sowing seeds of nothingness in this world. From nothingness comes everything. If you don’t limit yourself, anything, literally everything, is possible to create. You’ve tapped into the VOID and understood the secret of Co-Creation. Might it be that you’ve had a really strange, esoteric dream recently? I think you could’ve been activated in your sleep. I feel more strongly that this whole developing a Midas Touch was brought about after transmuting a fuckload of personal traumas you’ve accumulated in this incarnation.

You’ve been through all the sides of sorrow and happiness that now you’re clearer as to what kinds of things are truly meaningful for a Human existence. Now you only want the essentials, and those things you consider essentials are concepts still too difficult too grasp for most Humans. Though you do not carry the essence of being Human, you more than them understand what being Human should be all about. It’s insane. It’s all paradoxical. But you’re here on a mission to beautify this realm. To help Mankind elevate themselves above the status of being miserable slaves—slaves often to their own toxic desires. You’ve transcended all of that via your own suffering.

reap – 9 of Pentacles

From here on, there is no more lack. Because you don’t want much anymore. You’ve let go of all the tight grips on the illusions and temptations of the Matrix. Your wants are now purer, kinder, fairer. I feel you want everybody to have also the things that you take for granted. You want everybody to share in the bounty of the natural world easily. ‘There are things in this world that are NOT supposed to be expensive.’ You want everybody to have access to basic needs at a decent level/quality without having to pay for a premium.

All of that said, I think in the future you’re soon going to have your own business that helps improve the lives of your community instead of ruining the ecosystem and making it hard for everybody. If not a business, you could be involved in some sort of invention or revolution that could, well, revolutionise the way many people live, work or approach businesses on their own terms. I think this Pile has the potential to change the world for the better. You may not care that much about such wild dreams for now, for you are currently peacefully enjoying some fruits of your intense spiritual labour thus far.

But it’s coming, baby~ Your train to awesome is coming to pick you up. Just chill~ When Divine Timing strikes, your body is gonna move on its own😉

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