#like truth about the radiance

[maddyshome]

gojo is the moon but geto is not the sun. geto is the star. it is yuuji who is the sun.

sukuna is also the moon and yuuji is still the sun here too.

why? because yuuji's belief is a direct contrast to gojo and sukuna's. the sun and the moon need to be two opposing beings. like ying and yang.

to satosugu fans, stop living in a delusion. your otp is not the sun-moon pair. its more like the moon-star pair. so just go with that.

[faaun]

today was ok good great bad 😭 rant in tags lets try to be normal abt this

[wonryllis]

daddy issues, my little girl (m) | park jongseong.

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ぃ ────𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹,

preview. you had always had daddy issues, for as long as you could remember. so when jay came along with his caring nature, how could you possibly keep your feelings at bay? not to forget, your roses of love have wilted long before you even knew what love meant but jay, he’s here at your doorstep with a watering can. will you be able to refuse?

or where, new neighbor dr jay park is asked to babysit you over the week. ironically the only man you have ever had a crush on. you are so determined to put aside the feelings but jay makes things so much harder. he is way too sweet and caring and you are way too pessimistic and insecure. how is it going to work with you gravitating towards him in inadvertence and jay welcoming your presence with candor radiance? especially with all of your buried issues coming to life more than ever. false hopes and reserved secrets, reluctant truths and feelings that linger deep. he is right there, two doors away to reach. so why is it that love still feels so far?

meet the cast. daddy park jongseong(jay) with his doll fem!reader

genre. neighbour to lovers, age gap (like 7 years), romance, SMUT MDNI!!, comfort angst, fluff, happy ending, doctor(might change that)!jay with his precious girl. jay literally always at his girl's beck and call, he cares about you a lottttt trope. the "i know you can do it, but let me do it for you" trope. kinda ddlg concept idk? he's like your pillar, comfort person and just everything you have ever needed. practically your dream man come to life. subject to additions later on.

word count. 18-19k so far, est around 35k revamp + second installment.

warnings. DARK THEMES: hints of: daddy issues, attachment anxiety, inferiority complex, abandonment issues, depression, childhood emotional neglect, philophobia, insomnia, social anxiety, hints at emotional/psychological abuse, gaslighting, hints at being suicidal, people pleaser syndrome, mommy issues, thantophobia, atelophobia, atychiphobia, pistanthrophobia, avoidant personality disorder, body dysmorphia. more could be added on release and nsfw warnings will be mentioned in full fic.

theme song. daddy issues by the neighborhood and future by red velvet. on the side you can listen to: love letter by bolbbalgan4, adore you by harry styles, pacify her by melanie martinez, cool kids by echosmith, your existence by wonstein, teenage dreams by katy perry ..

RELEASING. TBD, progress ! 57%

"i’m home!” slipping off your converse, you put the pair inside the shoe cabinet near the entrance and close the wooden door in a sigh before trudging in. the lights in the living room are dimmed, something your parents would never do. it catches you a tad bit off guard but nevertheless you try not to think too much. considering the silence surrounding you they most definitely are out for work and as usual forgot to turn off the lights. with cautious steps you walk futher inside, with all intention to sneak in a pack of chips from the kitchen like a thief even though at this point you’ve practically come to the conclusion you’re home alone, but one can never be too careful.

a cat like shriek leaves you when your eyes land on the back of a figure sitting on the couch, your phone almost slipping through the grasp of your fingers as your eyes widen in shock. startled, your heart more or less stopping in a screeching brake for a split second.

the man visibly flinches at the sound of your voice,“who are you?!-” standing up and turning around to face you,“jay?”

“god y/n, you’re gonna make me deaf,” he complains, face contorting into a tender, teasing expression; a small smile gracing his lips as he walks around the couch and leans against the top of the backrest. you watch as he looks at you, so softly that it makes you wonder, has anyone ever in your entire life looked at you like that? a look radiating such gentleness. maybe not, not until now that is.

“you got home early today, i thought you’d be out for two more hours?” his brows raise in a questioning manner as his gaze shifts to go over the time showing on your living room clock.

“uh, well i was working on a project the last few days but i finished it yesterday so,” you speak unsure if you should even be telling him this instead of asking what he’s doing in here.

“oh okay, that’s good,” taking off his overcoat he walks into the kitchen, folding up his dress shirt’s sleeves on the way,“what do you want for lunch then? do you want to eat takeout? or should i cook you something? you must be hungry,” he takes out a bottle of cold water from the fridge and pours in a glass for you, sliding the cup on the countertop towards you as you approach the space in hesitant and confused steps.

his questions dumbfound you, leaving your brain at a loss, still dazed from his presence before you,“what? why are you asking me that? and what are you doing in my house?” you ask, looking completely clueless when jay turns to look at you expecting it to be some kind of a sarcastic remark. but the lost look in your eyes has him surrendering even if it does turn out to be some joke.

“taking care of you,” jay smiles, straightening his posture in an upright position and moving closer to the counter across which you stand,“technically, babysitting,”

“babysitting? me? but,” it baffles you, is this some prank or are you supposed to know something you don’t? your mind’s mechanical gears slow down, friction arising in between them. you don’t remember anything regarding or relating to the term babysitting. there’s no way he’s serious.. right?

“doll, didn’t your parents tell you they’re gonna be out on a business trip for a week? they asked me to look after you while they’re gone,” what.

yes these past few days when you couldn’t catch a hidden, one-sided glimpse of him in the elevator you did feel weird. and you definitely did subconsciously wish to run across him again, even though you were on a mission to avoid him, but this; this is not what you would’ve liked, this is not what you wanted. this is far from what you can handle, what your messed up self can accept.

“no?” the look on your face has jay almost spilling a laugh, the way your features contort to a whiny crying expression. how cute. he thinks.

“that’s okay, now you know,” trying to imitate you, he scrushes up his nose in a slight pout, reaching out to pat your head twice. and there goes your heart. you never thought you’d like head pats this much, you only remember getting them twice from your father but it felt different. it used to annoy you because he would mess up your hair but the way jay caressed your head it felt you had accomplished something, so gentle and careful yet still close to a ruffle.

taglist ( open. ) @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @lheebra @boyfhee @defnotfertilizedtoesw @brownsugarbaybee @skylaly @sparklovespink @luvyouchuu @ming-h0e @cha0thicpisces @butterflywonie @kgneptun @haechansbbg @m3chigo @wonsbaer @woncine @eneiyri @siyen @wonyoungsvirus @heesquared @enhafim22 @velvtcherie @ineedsomezzz @simjyunnie @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @wonkifangirl @sweetwonieee @luvnicho @fakeuwus @sunpov @notevenheretbh1 @kaykay11sworld @saurxcream @shawnyle @monstaxdirtywonk @wannieepisod @woozixo @sophi-ee @rikiwaify-blog @fluerz @iselltulips @belowbun @yunjinsbbg @enhasnuggles @enhaswirlds @enhastolemyheart @jooniesbears-blog

[ghostlyferrettarot]

◆Pick a Picture:📀🌌🧊Current gossip about you🧊🌌📀

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🧊If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🧊

🌌Masterlist🌌

📀Pile 1: 8 of Swords, King of Swords and Temperance.

Hi pile 1! People are probably commenting on your accomplishments. I feel like you've recently achieved something significant that you've been chasing for a while now. Many underestimated you, thinking you were just playing around, but you've done it. Now they wonder how you manage to make it all seem so easy and how relaxed you look while working on your goals. Some may even be a little envious of your ability to move forward with clarity and determination, which can intimidate those around you.

The way you attract success seems almost magical to others, but the truth is that they don't see the effort and dedication you put in every day. I feel that many may even be envious of you in these aspects, you are an abundant person with clear objectives, this makes others feel intimidated. The obsidian stone can be a valuable tool to protect you from those negative energies.

Continue to pursue your goals with the same passion and determination you have so far. You are on the right path; don't let other people's opinions take you away from your path; what matters is your own journey and the effort you put into it. Success will come to you soon ;).

📀Song:

📀Pile 2: The Star, Queen of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 2! People are talking about your great change in general. It's like you're in a stage of personal radiance, where everything you've experienced has taken you to a new level. Even though you've faced difficult times recently, you've managed to get up and start shining with your own light. People around you can notice that positive energy you emanate now, and many have noticed how good you look. It's natural that some are curious about your drastic change. They wonder what you've done to achieve this transformation, they wonder How have you managed to change your style, your way of being and your attitude towards life? The truth is that you have worked hard to get here, and that dedication has not gone unnoticed! People are intrigued by the decisions you have made to improve your life.

Don't forget that your strength is what has allowed you to overcome obstacles and move forward. If you have managed to get ahead, it is thanks to your effort and the courage you have shown every step of the way. Be proud of what you have achieved and the good things that are yet to come. You deserve it, and this is just the beginning of a journey full of opportunities and achievements! Lucky you pile 2!

📀Song:

📀Pile 3: Queen of Wands, Ace of Swords and 5 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! People are talking a lot about your talents lately. I think you are an extremely creative person, who knows how to express their ideas in a unique and special way. It is evident that others notice it too.

I feel that the gossip about you comes mainly from your work or school environment; Many may admire the way you carry yourself, your confidence and how naturally talented you are at what you do. Many may be envious of your work, I feel that someone may be spreading false gossip about you; but do not worry, I feel that you are very protected by your guides and that your environment knows that you are someone very genuine.

Keep showing the world your art and your talents, as you are destined to go far and inspire others with your knowledge. Trust in yourself and your potential! You can go very high if you continue to focus on your goals!

📀Song:

📀🧊Thanks for reading and tell me if it resonated🧊📀

[adviceformefromme]

8 TIPS FOR A WHOLESOME SUMMER

1] PRIORITISING SLEEP. You’re sleeping with your mouth closed, because you’ve learnt how open mouth breathing affects your jaw, posture and overall health. You’ve got those little sticky mouth strips from Amazon to help support with keeping your mouth shut during the night and as a result sleeping like a baby. 

3] YOU ARE IN YOUR ‘NO’ ERA. Saying no to absolutely anything that doesn’t align with your truth. No to the boozy party because you’ve quit drinking, no to the consuming voice notes and calls with your ‘still’ friends (still broke, still complaining, still getting no where). The more you say no, the more you are creating space for what is meant for you. 

4] ENJOYING HOBBIES. You start pouring more into activities that fill you up. The yoga workshops, dance classes, painting, cycling, running, making fermented foods. You're becoming more wholesome, and its from a place of truth and love. 

5] LOOKING AND FEELING YOUR BEST. You’re not worried about dropping a little cash on some key items for your summer wardrobe, because you know looking good will only amplify your radiance. This starts at home, sleeping in your best night dresses, wearing the kimono robe around the house. Ensuring your nails toes are clean and groomed, even if this is a weekly at home job. You prioritise looking and feeling your best even if this means waking up a little earlier to get ready.

6] LISTENING TO MUSIC THAT LIFTS YOU UP. Not the songs that keep you in the trap of overthinking him. Spiritual songs, songs of praise, affirmation songs, music with soul. As result you feel more connected to God, your truth, and grounded.

7] MAKING ACTUAL PLANS FOR THE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO THIS SUMMER. That means booking the flights, the train tickets, the restaurant you’ve been wanting to try. Pull out your diary and make the plans. Go live your life. Even if you do this alone, the most important thing is you don’t let this summer pass you by. You live it, you breathe it, you make it as fulfilling and exciting as possible. 

8] READING. Having a physical book to read, to travel with, to have close to your heart is the perfect way to expand your mind and take a much needed screen break…Fiction, or Non-fiction, go to the bookstore or library and enjoy the feel of the recycled paper on your finger tips as you indulge in something of interest. 

9] REDUCE SCREEN TIME. Whatever your current screen time, the goal is to reduce it by 50%, so if you’re currently on 4hrs per day, get it down to 2hrs. The less time on your phone, the more time in the real world, you’ll find you become more present, and enjoying life instead of being a slave to your device. 

[watevermelon]

A Beautiful Cage | Sunday x Reader

✧ Summary: You woke up in this beautiful dream, memories lost with a handsome man claiming to be your husband.

➳ Spoilers for the 2.2 Penacony update! ➳ Warnings: Dark!Sunday x Amnesiac Reader; Yandere writing liberties :) ➳ Navigation

“My beautiful Sparrow, welcome back.”

You stared at the man, blinking twice without words as his affection for you shined like the halo upon his head. The grip he had on your hand fell with each beat of your prolonged silence, a new sort of desperation growing at the corners of his lips. Your heart broke at the sight, despite not even knowing his name.

“I’m sorry. Do I… know you?” You asked back, sitting up in the bed and only now noticing your surroundings.

The sterile smell and beeping monitors confirmed the worst. Beside you sat someone whom you felt an inexplicable connection to, a pull in your heart that stirred up warning bells, yet their face brought no specific memories.

Everything about him exuded importance, from the fine fabric and intricate details of his clothes to the matching halo and ethereal wings. He almost looked like an angel, a being of celestial grace and authority.

The man in question grimaced, but continued. “My name is Sunday. Do you remember my face?”

Sunday, like the last day of the week.

The day of rest.

“I’m sorry, no.” Your forehead creased in strain, as if the physical action could bring it all back. A worse revelation crossed your mind, “I don’t even remember my own name.”

“Then I will help you remember, my dear Sparrow.” He spoke gently, repeating the term of endearment as he lifted your hand to his lips. A silent warning bell in your subconscious screamed at you to pull away, but you ignored it to instead stare into his handsome, golden eyes.

“Please, stop me if this becomes overwhelming for you.” Sunday warned before explaining further, “You are my wife. And because of my position in this world, you are often put in danger. And unfortunately, I was not able to protect you from an attack.”

You stayed silent as Sunday continued on, describing in small detail the life you shared together. 

Your name and the world you chose to stay in, Penacony.

A dreamlike world where many partied their days away, celebrities and the affluent from around the universe sharing in one lavish adventure.

And Sunday, the head of the Oak family.

You could hardly believe his words, a world where people were able to freely pursue their dreams. 

The hesitation must have been seen on your face, since the kind stranger had countered with a simple phrase. “Let me show you.”

Gold lined the streets as far as the eye could see, casting a radiant glow across the entire cityscape. Fantastical roads floated in the sky above, while buildings were illuminated in a dazzling golden radiance.

Golden Hour, the name for the area, was aptly so. 

You stared dumbly in different directions, taking in the fantastical view and the lively bustle of people moving from store to store. Street performers graced nearly every corner, their music blending into a harmonious soundtrack that filled the vibrant, diverse heart of the city.

Sunday lifted an open palm towards you, the corners of his lips curling into a soft smile as if inviting your touch. As you placed your hand over his, you felt the gentle pressure of his grip matching your own tenderness. His hand felt cold and unfamiliar, but you brushed aside the discomfort, chalking it up to your amnesia.

“It’s Mr. Sunday!” A child yelled in excitement, jumping up and down as his company of other children turned at his words.

Suddenly there was a crowd of children, all surrounding your supposed husband and asking for his autograph. A weight on your heart felt lighter, seeing strangers confirm the words of the one person who was influencing your entire outlook on your new life. 

Sunday was essentially a stranger, but now the only person you could rely on.

You needed truths and as the crowd grew larger, you could confirm that this man was honest in his words earlier.

“Are you alright, Miss?” One of the children turned and asked you.

Another joined in on the conversation, “Mr. Sunday said you were hurt! Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. Thank you for asking.” You kept your response kind, but short.

Sunday weaved his way through the short crowd, back to your side. "Please excuse us as we must depart promptly. My sincere apologies, but my dear wife has endured considerable challenges."

“Awww, he loves you!” A squeal broke out from the back, making you unconsciously blush.

Sunday simply smiled, before waving goodbye and leading you on your way.

Sunday resided in a grand estate, passing libraries adorning the walls as he guided you to your shared bedroom. You admired the opulent furniture, once again accented with gold. As Sunday removed his outer layers, you seized the opportunity to survey the room. Framed pictures — your wedding, a festival, and one with a third person who looked much like Sunday —moments that, regrettably, eluded your recognition.

Your husband emerged from the other room silently, regarding you with that same small smile as he drew closer.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember.” You spoke first, genuinely frustrated that your memories were taken from you. “It’s alright.” He reassured you, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Can I try something to help you?”

You nodded in quiet affirmation, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips as Sunday leaned closer. His breath mingled with yours, warm and comforting, as he pressed a soft kiss against the tip of your nose before gently lowering his lips to meet yours. The kiss was tender, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings, delicate and fleeting, as if both of you were hesitant to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

But as the warmth of the embrace enveloped you, a surge of emotion ignited within, fueling the kiss with a newfound intensity. Your lips moved in perfect harmony, a dance of passion and longing, as Sunday's hand found its way to the back of your neck, his touch both gentle and possessive. With each brush of his lips against yours, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you locked in a timeless embrace.

But it was not enough.

“I love you, my Sparrow.” He murmured against your lips. “Whatever you come to need, I will provide it. Lest it be my time, my affection, or even if you perhaps… need space.”

A pang of bittersweet ache tugged at your heart as you processed those last words. It was undeniable how much Sunday loved you, his actions speaking volumes and allowing you the space and freedom if that was what you wanted. It was a sacrifice born out of love, a silent vow to stand by your side no matter the outcome, even as your heart yearned for the completeness that only the restoration of your memories could bring.

But a life without him… did not feel right?

“No, please. I want you by my side.” 

It was a small concession, but the radiant smile that blossomed across Sunday's face filled even you with an infectious joy. He leaned in, pressing a series of gentle kisses along the side of your cheek, each one eliciting a soft laugh from your lips as you savored the delightful sensation. In that fleeting moment, surrounded by the warmth of his affection, all worries and uncertainties melted away, leaving behind only the sweet embrace of shared laughter and unspoken love.

You snuggled into his arms at night, the sensation unfamiliar but not unwelcome. As you closed your eyes and drifted into slumber, a relentless melody began to crescendo, growing louder and more insistent until it engulfed your consciousness, becoming the sole sound echoing through the corridors of your dreams.

A woman's voice, light and airy, infused with hope, danced through the recesses of your mind, casting a shimmering veil over your thoughts.

Who was that woman?

And why was she the only memory your mind could recall?

You devoured every book available on Penacony and its rich history, spending countless days ensconced within the walls of your private library. Sunday had even offered recommendations, guiding you towards enlightening reads detailing the intricate tapestry of the Oak family and the other prominent families that shaped the fabric of Penacony's past.

A dream, tantalizing in its promise, offering individuals the chance to manifest and fulfill their deepest desires, but with a caveat—access granted solely through the family's invitation.

But there was nothing of note regarding your situation.

Instead, you found yourself falling into rhythm into Sunday’s life.

You slotted into his life easily, either accompanying Sunday for work or even venturing out on your own. Some days, you would visit his office as he tirelessly worked and meticulously planned for the upcoming Charmony festival. Or, on easier days, strolled through the familiar streets of Penacony as he encouraged you to immerse yourself in the surroundings in hopes of triggering memories.

In each interaction, it was evident the deep love and devotion Sunday held for his people and his beloved city of Penacony. He listened attentively to even the most mundane complaints from others, offering genuine empathy and understanding. His concern and unwavering commitment to his people were palpable, leaving a heartwarming impression on all who encountered him.

It seemed like he was perfect in every way possible.

Life with Sunday was sweet, easy even.

And yet, there was an insistent hammering in your heart, a relentless pulse that sent waves of unease through your entire being.

Every night without fail, you continued to hear that insistent melody, a haunting refrain that seemed to echo from the depths of your past. You couldn't fathom why your mind clung to this particular fragment of memory and it nearly drove you to anger. You had lived an entire life, rich with experiences and emotions, yet it was a single song that your memory chose to preserve. Why not Sunday, or the life you had shared together? 

What was the importance of this song?

You found yourself unconsciously humming along to this song even as you traversed Penacony. It was another day with Sunday off attending to business, leaving you to your own devices. You appreciated his willingness to let you explore Penacony independently; it allowed you to experience the city's vibrancy through your own eyes, unfiltered by anyone’s perceptions and unburdened by expectations. The freedom to form your own impressions was a gift, even as the familiar tune haunted your every step.

How could you possibly be suspicious of your husband when he was giving you all this freedom?

Your eyes swept appreciatively across the cityscape until they paused in one direction. You halted immediately, a small tendril of suspicion blossoming into body-wide panic as you recognized the woman standing before you.

In your heart of hearts, you remembered her name.

Robin.

Instantly, an unrelenting pain seared through your brain, but you resisted the urge to duck down, clutching your head as you stared at the woman. She locked eyes with you, surprise flashing across her face before she began running in your direction.

“Robin?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but the woman wrapped her arms around your middle.

Her hug felt deeply familiar, like the comforting embrace of home after a long, perilous journey. It was as if her arms wrapped not just around your body, but around your weary soul, offering solace and a sense of belonging that you had desperately missed.

You continued. “Robin, I… Lost all my memories. You are the only person I’ve recognized so far.”

Robin's face contorted in pain, worry deepening with every word you spoke. She looked you over, inspecting every inch to ensure you were unhurt. Satisfied, she hugged you again tightly before gently patting your heart.

“Robin?” You asked again, but the woman only looked at you and tilted her head in question.

“Are you… unable to speak?”

Yes.

She nodded her head, making you take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. “Is it because of me?”

No.

“I… We should tell Sunday!” You attempted to look for a solution, but she frowned and kept nodding her head no. “Does he already know?

Yes.

“... Will you come back home with me? I don’t remember you fully, but in my heart it feels like I’ve missed you.”

She nodded eagerly, making you a bit more suspicious of her intentions.

You walked side-by-side, making your way back to your shared abode with Sunday, enveloped in a familiar atmosphere. In the absence of her voice, you took it upon yourself to fill the air with conversation, enough for the both of you. You recounted how you had awoken without a single memory, with Sunday faithfully by your side. You described his love and devotion, his unwavering care for your every need.

This felt familiar, being with Robin. However, why now? 

Why hadn’t she visited you before?

A part of your mind stuttered, hesitating to confide in Robin about the ominous feeling gnawing at your heart regarding everything that was happening. What if she took her brother's side? Perhaps it was wiser to keep silent, hesitant to disclose your apprehensions, especially considering the possibility that she might be collaborating with him.

You walked into the foyer with Robin and she led you further into the home, into a library with a large desk that had a model of all of Golden Hour.

It was evident that she was on a mission, striding purposefully forward without the slightest hint of hesitation as she surveyed the towering bookcases that lined the walls of the library. Sensing her focused energy, you allowed her to proceed in silence, observing her with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Recognition flashed behind her eyes and she grabbed something resting on the shelf, a rectangular object, before quickly thrusting it at you.

“What do you want me to do with this?” You asked with confusion, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Silent yet urgent, she swiftly took charge and reached to open the flap of your jacket, deftly slipping the object into the pocket before pressing a single pointer finger against her lips, signaling for you to maintain absolute silence.

You shook your head in confusion, near begging for more information. “Silent from who?”

From Sunday?

Or from someone else in Penacony?

But a now familiar voice was heard at the door frame.

“My dear sister, I didn’t know you’d be visiting our home today. Not that I’m not grateful, but I would have stayed home to greet you upon your arrival.” Sunday greeted you both with his customary kind smile, a warm familiarity washing over you. He approached, embracing his sister first in a lingering hug before turning to your side, where he offered you a greeting kiss on the forehead.

“My offer to stay in this home still stands, dear sister.”

Their relationship appeared to be fine, even close. Perhaps Robin hadn’t intended to keep the matter silent from Sunday? However, as Robin bid you both goodbye and you found yourselves alone, you made the conscious decision to remain quiet about the object, keeping it tucked away in your pocket like a silent reminder.

The following day, you ventured out of the mansion and found yourself in a cafe. Uncertain about the object nestled in your pocket, you hesitated to even retrieve it, opting instead to keep your hand inside, fingers lightly brushing against its surface as you inspected it solely through touch.

Nothing about it seemed special, just a rectangular object shrouded in mystery.

Dumbfounded, you exited the cafe, pondering the possibility of researching the object. Was there a library somewhere in Penacony that might hold more information? A tendril of apprehension tightened in your heart as you recalled that the only library you had encountered thus far was the one within your own home.

“Ah, his little songbird.” A voice, unfamiliar, broke you out of your reverie.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” You asked back genuinely.

“Perhaps in another lifetime.” The woman continued, looking you up and down with a smirk on her face.

She was beautiful, even enough to make you feel self conscious. The woman stood tall with porcelain skin contrasting the lavender hues that cascaded down her back. Her gaze nearly matched her hair, a captivating blend of colors with red striking you like the flames of a hypnotic fire.

“My name is Black Swan.” She stated simply, inspecting your eyes as if to see if there was any recognition behind them.

But instead, you blinked twice, uncertainty clouding your thoughts as you awaited her next words, unsure of where she was leading the conversation.

“That’s unfortunate.” She commented on your eyes, once vibrant when she last saw you. “But I believe you have a souvenir of mine.”

Your hand clenched around the rectangular object, a surge of apprehension coursing through you. The thought of broaching the subject with Sunday seemed fraught with risk. Why would you entertain the idea of confiding in a stranger?

“I know you don’t trust me. But would it help if I told you a fellow songbird and I gave it to you?”

Robin.

You paused, looking left and right before stepping closer. 

“Hold on.” She spoke softly, her words accompanied by a gentle hand on your wrist, guiding you away from the bustling streets of Golden Hour. Through winding paths and intricate puzzles, she led you, each twist and turn revealing new secrets and hidden passages.

“It isn’t safe here either, but at least now we’re away from the eyes of the bloodhounds.”

Huh?

Though you couldn’t quite comprehend it, with each passing moment in the company of this stranger, you found yourself inexplicably at ease. There was a sense of trust that seemed to grow between you, as if she were a steadfast ally in this labyrinthine journey. You held up the rectangular object in your palms, and she made no move to take it from your grasp, respecting your agency and the significance of the item to you.

She put her hand over the object, “This is an empty light cone. Light cones hold memories, moments in time that were long forgotten even by the user.”

Your eyes shot up in interest, but you did not interrupt her.

“Tell me, do you enjoy this dream?” She asked, seemingly out of nowhere. “Be honest with me, songbird.”

You paused, given the first true opportunity to speak your mind. “I enjoy being here, but something doesn't feel complete.”

“Have you noticed something strange since you first awoke here?”

“Like what? 

“Remember. A major flaw in the story you have experienced.”

Your frustration grew, “I can only recall the last few weeks, I can’t go back any further.”

Black Swan fixed her gaze upon you, her eyes locking onto yours with an unwavering intensity as she spoke. “Think back to what you know. Where did you start this story?”

“I was in a hospital, here in Penacony.”

In response, she arched a single eyebrow, a silent indication that there was more to your statement than met the eye.

“And a death in Penacony means what?” She asked slowly.

You strained to recall the answer to that question, your mind rifling through the wealth of knowledge gleaned from the books you had devoured upon awakening. In this dream realm, death held no sway, its specter banished from the bounds of this surreal reality. Your heart quickened with anticipation as the answer began to crystallize in your mind.

“It means returning back to reality.”

If your injuries were indeed severe enough to land you in a hospital bed, on the edge of your life and stripped of your memories, why hadn't you simply returned to reality?

Or rather, why hadn’t Sunday brought you back to reality?

“Wake up, songbird. Break free from this eternal dream.”

Your consciousness plunged beneath the surface instantly, submerged in the depths of an endless ocean. With each stroke, you struggled against the weight of the water, yearning for the surface just out of reach. Yet, propelled by an unseen force, your mind surged forward, propelled by the current of your subconscious.

.

.

.

You coughed up air, gasping for breath as you struggled to fill your lungs, a mixture of surprise and uncertainty washing over you in waves. 

Where the hell were you?

You found yourself seated in a pool of water within the confines of a colossal oyster, a fleeting memory flickering in your mind—a recollection of this being the entrance to the Dreamscape.

You were back in reality.

The room was tastefully decorated, with screens displaying a serene beachside view and lush green plants adorning the corners. A cozy fireplace added warmth and ambiance to one wall. It became evident that this was your personal space, as stacks of books adorned every available surface.

As you meticulously combed through the books, your fingers trembled with anticipation, a sense of dread beginning to gnaw at the edges of your consciousness. Each page turned revealed nothing but mundane details, no hint of Sunday's potential duplicity. Yet, the oppressive silence of the room seemed to press in on you, suffocating and thick with apprehension.

Nobody should have knowledge of your clandestine presence, save for Black Swan, yet the hollow echo of a knock shattered the stillness, reverberating through the room like a harbinger of doom. Each rap upon the door sent shivers racing down your spine, your heartbeat thundering like a drumbeat of impending dread.

Was it Sunday?

Was he going to force you back into the Dreamscape?

Hesitation rooted you on the spot, hand trembling as it hovered over the doorknob. Fear coiled in your chest like a venomous serpent, paralyzing your every movement. But the relentless knocking persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing second, until it felt as though the very walls themselves were closing in.

“Sparrow, are you alright?”

Sunday.

And yet he sounded… concerned?

His genuinely distressed tone had a disarming effect, causing your guard to falter. With a hesitant hand, you reached for the doorknob, feeling it's cool metal beneath your fingertips. 

Even with your slow movements, Sunday hadn’t rushed to open the rest of the door. His voice was gentle, “My love, were you attacked again?”

What?

Did you awaken here the last time you were attacked?

You met Sunday's gaze, but the expression etched upon his face was unlike anything you had ever seen. His eyes, typically ablaze with a golden warmth, now held a chilling intensity, their once vibrant hue dimmed to a somber shade. In their depths, a glimmer of suspicion flickered, casting an ominous pall over his countenance. His stare bore into you with a laser-like focus, each line etched upon his features to show the gravity of his scrutiny. 

“No… I was with…”

Your mind stuttered once more, faltering in its attempt to grasp onto the memory of the woman you had just encountered. The image of her beautiful lavender hair and the melodic cadence of her voice began to fade, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It was as if the memories were elusive phantoms, slipping away from your grasp, leaving behind only fragments of a conversation and a sense of disorientation in their wake.

Sunday remained silent, his gaze unwavering as he observed your inner turmoil with a focused intensity. In a fleeting instant, the tension dissolved from his features, replaced by a tender expression as he lifted a hand to caress your cheek. Leaning in, he gently pressed his forehead against yours, a silent gesture of reassurance.

“Let me take care of you, Songbird.”

“Where… Where are we going?”

“Let’s forgo the Dreamscape tonight. The dinner menu in the lounge sounded particularly appetizing.”

As your mind grappled with the swirling chaos of conflicting memories, one thought remained steadfast: the yearning to return to reality and leave the Dreamscape. Yet, Sunday stood before you, extending an invitation to remain in reality with him. His gentle encouragement, coupled with the suggestion of sharing a meal together, created a tug-of-war within your soul - if he was truly suspicious, wouldn’t he want to return to the Dream?

“Something wrong, my dear?” Sunday asked, his trademark gentle smile once again gracing his features.

A pang of guilt gnawed at a corner of your mind, for you had harbored suspicions of Sunday throughout your time in the Dreamscape. Yet, here he stood, seemingly without fault, extending an open invitation to spend time with him outside the confines of the dream.

“No, let’s.. Let’s get dinner.” You spoke softly, slipping your hand into his and surprising him with your initiative, taking the lead for once.

“Of course, my love.”

You traversed the halls in silence, lost in a labyrinth of thoughts as you pondered the origins of your suspicion towards Sunday. He had been your rock, your unwavering support, proving his loyalty and love over the years of your marriage. It was probably the amnesia that made you wary, but you felt somewhat guilty that you held suspicions over the one person who may not have deserved it. 

Lost in contemplation, you scarcely noticed the world around you until you chanced upon a young boy, his striking white hair and azure garments catching your attention in the otherwise familiar surroundings.

“Welcome back to the Reverie! If you need any assistance, feel free to let me know.” He greeted you by name, making you smile at his sunny disposition. 

“Thank you, we’re headed down to the VIP lounge now for dinner.” Sunday responded, pausing to reply to the bellboy.

“I’m sorry, I had an accident and I don’t remember your name. Can you tell me yours?”

“No problem, my name is Misha.”

.

.

.

“A pleasure to meet you Misha.” You replied before waving goodbye, smiling as you went with Sunday by your side.

Perhaps you were wrong to be suspicious of Sunday. But no matter, you had an entire lifetime to make it up to your darling husband. He had been so kind to you these last few weeks, you resolved to make amends and shower your darling husband with the love and trust he deserved. Recollections of his tender gestures flooded your mind—the soft kisses, the gentle caresses—that had brought warmth and comfort to your heart over the past weeks. With a smile playing at your lips, you embraced the idea of spending a lifetime cherishing him.

You leaned up on your toes, gently kissing the side of his cheek as you walked through the halls.

Perhaps things were as they should be.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Despite what Robin claimed, Sunday loved you, truly.

Even when you threatened to leave his side for good.

When Robin returned back from her journey on death’s door, Sunday had not simply presented the idea of keeping her here on Penacony.

He enforced it.

In the tender heart of Sunday resided his beloved sister, a cherished soul intertwined with his very essence—his own lifeblood. Why, then, would he ever allow her to return to the perilous realms from whence she came? 

Society was too cold, too dangerous. 

Robin vocalized her discontent, lamenting the confines of the gilded cage that Penacony had become for her. Yet it was a cage adorned not with mere bars but with the allure of gold and the promise of boundless dreams. She could do anything, be anything. In fact, she was already a renowned celebrity who had the love of her last remaining family member. 

Why return to danger when here she prospered?

“It is still a cage.” She would counter, frustration dripping from her words.

And how much more did it break his heart when you took her side?

“Sunday, my love.” As if any endearments would affix his shattered heart. “Robin has a message that she must continue spreading. Keeping her confined here, what about the people she needs to reach?”

No.

He refused to accept their words.

Sunday’s sacrifices were grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, bearing the weight of his every aspiration, relinquished one by one until they formed a towering edifice, precarious yet resolute. At its peak stood the pinnacle of his being — his own life — offered willingly to maintain this dreamlike world even until the very last breath of eternity.

How much more was he willing to give-up?

Or rather, what was he allowed to be selfish for?

His dear sister.

And certainly, you.

As the Stellaron continued to leak Asdana’s memoria into the material world, Sunday felt his final dreams come to fruition. The Dreamscape was blending with reality, making even reality itself an illusion. 

He told himself repeatedly that this was for the good of humanity, a paradise where every individual was able to indulge in their delightful dreams and live their own personal happily ever after.

And what of yours?

Sunday granted you the freedom to roam Penacony at will, affording you the opportunity to reach for the stars even in his physical absence. But your frustration mounted, you knew he was watching from a distance anyway, a million eyes at his beck and call in this so-called Dream. You continued to voice your discontent, arguing that freedom within the confines of a cage was not truly freedom.

Why did you insist on leaving this eternal dream?

Would you leave his side and return to being an abandoned orphan, tossed aside somewhere in the old Penacony?

No, he would not allow it.

Even if he had to rewrite your memories along the way.

[sandsorghum]

Clouds & Curtains

husband!Nanami x wife!reader

wc. 1.3k

summary. Perhaps Nanami's approach to...rousing you in the mornings has changed over the years.

tags. Established relationship, Domestic bliss | Romance | Smut | Body (& Soul)Worship | Mentions of Nanami wanting to be a father

a/n: Super soft, super indulgent piece. Have your cake and eat it nanami girlies. Sometimes i just need to write him a love letter ok

Prologue

Back when you'd just begun to be intimate with each other, Nanami tended to be a little embarrassed about his subconscious (but hardly subtle) desires for you. He would rather suffer his internal, infernal dilemma than disrupt your rest. But he couldn't quite control his urges, squirming between decency and depravity, not when you'd rub up against him, so innocuous and merciless.

It was a hard habit to shake; how Nanami felt he ought to earn your every quiver against him, every whimper, however much he yearned to feel you tremble at his moans at any given moment. It was codified in him, there was a time and a place and patterns to follow, before he could permit himself the pursuit of your shared pleasures.

Of course, you'd unveil him in the evenings, the privilege of your touch stripping bare the prerogatives of his flesh. You unraveled him, his reticence, his reasoning, his very capacity for speech, by braiding your breath and fingers with his, in the friction-begetting-friction tangle of your lips and limbs together.

Yet he still thinks of these mornings, that find the two of you entwined, as an undeserved luxury. So Nanami would do his best instead to focus on your face, how sweet your peaceful expression was. It would be wicked of him not to cherish this, he'd chastise himself for wanting more, for wanting to drown in your adoring gaze, for wanting to return it with his own hungry one, body and spirit beggared by the night, by the hours not spent beheld by you.

Nanami assumed the beauty and tenderness of your countenance would quell, or could sate his appetites, would tame the primal stirrings in his belly. But nothing could be further from the truth, in fact they had the opposite, compounding effect; a lump in his throat would rise, and his desperation would thicken till he could only helplessly rut his hips against you.

And then your eyelids would flutter open, and in the crease of your knowing smile, all his definitions, his distinctions, all that distance between need and greed would collapse with a single kiss.

Years later, and your husband is so absolutely shameless about his...early head starts to the day. He pulls you into him, snug against the cleft of your ass cheeks, content to let your scent and radiance seep through the thin fabric and warm him in a way the sun, in its reluctance behind the clouds and curtains, can never hope to.

He stares at the petulance drooping off the petals of your lips, rose bud coiled tight before daybreak can coax it to unfurl for strobes of gold. Nanami is a patient man, too patient you've often thought, yet you feel his phantom touch, a tender sweep of your mouth, a zephyr whispering in the wings, billowing brocade and swelling muslin, ghost pulling you through the gauze of sleep.

You shift against Nanami to hear him sigh your name, soft and distant, thick with slumber and affection and it's this which rouses you more, not merely his growing rigidity pressed to the curves of you. Although, it helps, feeling every inch of his hunger like this, in a slow swirl and pinch at your waist, the gentlest rocking as your breasts are cradled in his palms, familiar persuasion pebbling your areola. You know he dreams of them swollen with milk, that all your memories of his teeth are girded by the desire for them to be suckled by the most innocent of mouths, baring only gums and tiny wails. Your nubs stiffen and a small smile stretches across your face at the thought that with his wish to grow a family fulfilled, he might find also a small regret, of his monopoly of your mounds contested by another, to whom he owes the genesis of your body's generosity, that sweet fullness dribbling, stolen, into your husband's mouth, enticing in its envy.

This prospect of hypocrisy is to be savoured for another day, far down the road. This morning brings neither hesitation nor urgency, all syrupy light and his maple gaze, the languor of his limbs splayed around you to be treasured just as much as the gradual grind of his cock. There's a certain smugness in its slowness, as with the self-assuredness of his thumb circling a bare sliver of your skin.

A familiar motion that stirs a memory, fuchsia-tinted for the both of you. You remember your then boyfriend stammering and scarlet-tipped, matched to the rosy tips of his ears, excuses lost in the shuffle of sheets and stutter of hips.

"I-it's just-just the t-temp-ah-temperatuur," he'd slurred, the excuse as thin and transparent as the sticky film he laved across your throat, dangerously growing gossamer and feebler with every twitch and each strong buck against your body.

"Mmhmm," you'd hum, carnal ache turning you conciliatory. Such complacency. You had been the one to smirk back then, canines gleaming coy, as you offered ruin in the guise of reprieve.

"Want me to warm you up, darling?" Hands already reaching for him, mind already marveling before your fingers could be reacquainted with their hubris, his girth.

"P-please, anythin-nghing" he'd panted, all wide-eyed desperation to be devoured, sweet thing.

You'd been such a fool.

To not know not greed was a two-way street, this ravenous osmosis, this vicious ouroborous.

You think perhaps, in fact, you got the worse end of the deal, trembling against your spouse now, thighs clamped together.

"My dear," Nanami hums, a teasing timbre dripping honey as he sinks his fingers in, "always so ready for me."

You squirm, eyes screwed shut and fisting the sheets, trying to grasp the pale image of the boy who'd once writhed and blushed beneath you, a spectre all but vanquished. You miss him, sometimes.

You arch your back into Nanami, the way you know he's addicted to, just to hear him groan your name, ragged with the dregs of self-restraint or slumber, you're not sure which, but it's a close enough echo to send pleasure juddering through you, the recollection churning hot in your gut, of when he was wrapped around your finger, instead of your cunt around his.

"Sweetheart."

The tenderness of his tone pries your lids open. He doesn't have to ask, doesn't have to say anything but he does, because he knows you are too stubborn to ask for what you need to hear.

"My love."

He claims your gasp, in the crush and curl of his mouth, in the crook of his fingers.

"My girl."

Another smattering of kisses, chasing the flutters of your belly down, down, down to your creases weeping nectar. He licks a whine from you, pitching high into the air, his husky moan vibrating within you.

"My wife."

You feel the hot gust of Nanami's breath over your clit, as he pauses.

"My wife."

There's a reverence as he repeats himself, pathetic attempts to vanquish his disbelief, wonder glistening in his gold-flecked irises, staring at you in awe, searching for proof this isn't some frenzied fever dream of his.Of course, he finds it in your own unwavering eyes.

You've been such a fool.

There, in the locked gaze your shared history glimmers, that shy boy paralyzed by his worship of you, prostrate as the man before your parted legs now, offering his soul, his past, his future.

You reach for him, and he surges upwards. The collision is wave returning and rising from oceans, over and over, is starburst, is incandescence, is the fission of atoms never, ever meant to be split.

It burns away all notions of him as your acolyte or priest, any concept of deity and devotee.

"My life," he breathes into you, and you feel the throb in your ribs, the furnace of his lungs.

"My life," you repeat to your husband.

Adam. Prometheus. Kento.

This morning and many after, he lavishes you with irreverence, a ravishing of irrelevance; his goddess, his woman, his joy -all that matters is that you are his and he is yours; Together, you forge a paradise that exists for as long as the melding of your souls persist, boundless as horizons and sure as sunrises.

@houseofsolisoccasum

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 3

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: p in v sex, oral sex (f receiving), praise kink? WC: 6.7k AN: y'all i am SO proud of this chapter!! i'm so so so excited for you all to read it, i loved writing it so much. thank you all so so so much for the love you have been giving this fic, it means the absolute world to me. requests and asks open, as always!

Ch. 1, Ch. 2, [Ch. 3], Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 3: Bonding

In the morning, you woke up slowly, with the taste of night-old beer and regret in your mouth. And also a splitting headache. But your bed was really warm, much warmer than usual, and you snuggled into the covers for another minute. Just one more. And then you realized that it wasn't the covers you were snuggling into, but a person. A person who had their arms wrapped around you. The memories surged back--Anakin, the loud music, truth or dare, kissing him, straddling him, his body against yours. You patted his arm a few times, suddenly completely awake. He let out a low noise of annoyance, but you kept tapping him.

"Five more minutes," he groaned, deeper and gruffer than usual. In that voice, you could hardly refuse him. Five more minutes, fine. With his nearness, warm and stable against you, your heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. You thought back to the night before, how hard he was for you and how smooth and warm his skin had been under your fingers when you teased below his shirt. Those thoughts would have made you horny beyond belief--fuck you right then and there, maybe--but you had the joy of a massive headache that blocked all of those fun thoughts. The light was too bright to close your eyes and drift off, so all you could do was turn around, awkwardly shifting underneath his arm, to look at him.

Anakin had little freckles on his cheekbones, you realized when you looked at him up close. When his face was completely relaxed like this, he had a kind of ethereal serenity about him. You feared that, if you didn't hold him tightly enough, he'd run away and jump into the sea like a selkie, never to be seen again. He was almost inhuman in that moment, all sharp angles and full lips. The morning light kissed his skin like it came from some radiance within him. He wasn't just handsome in the college-jock kind of way, he was truly and deeply beautiful, you realized.

Calling this Anakin a dumbass, an asshole, or a motherfucker felt just wrong. It would be like calling the stars in the sky boring. Laughably silly. With his jaw slack from sleep, he was a marvel, a gift from nature itself, molded and crafted into a careful, wonderous machine of blood, feelings, and thoughts. And he was laying there with you. If this Anakin wanted the prize, the money, the job, whatever, you would give it over in a heartbeat. All of that just didn't matter in this moment. And that was terrifying.

As quickly as you could, you tried to ground yourself in what was really important to you. Creating something meaningful. Winning. You reminded yourself all the times Anakin called your work amateurish, or the way he still denied damaging Barriss's bot. The way he'd raise his hand to argue that your answer was wrong in lecture during second year. Other images flashed in, unbidden. Anakin's kind eyes when he realized you were upset, before your first kiss. Anakin's sweet voice last night, full of respect for you. The way his teammates obviously respected him. You willed your mind to go back to his smug smile and the way he hogged the soldering station.

Anakin shifted a bit, then opened his bleary eyes to the morning light. It wasn't that late, you knew based on the fact that Ahsoka hadn't pounded down your door, but it was a Sunday, so maybe she didn't intend to. You reached for your phone on your nightstand, which was mercifully alive but hanging on for dear life at 3%. There was a text message from Ahsoka.

Slept over at TKD on the couch, heard u got home safe! ;) Go get some!

Ah. So she clearly thought you and Anakin had fucked. Not that you minded, really. Even if he was an asshole, or if you felt however you did about him, he was still hot. You definitely intended to screw his brains out as soon as you felt better. You tapped him again.

"Mmm, good morning," he mumbled out, "what time is it?" You clicked on your phone.

"11:55," you told him. He bolted upright.

"Shit, we slept through breakfast," he said. He was right, you had. Not that you got breakfast much. You shrugged. Anakin's eyes passed over you, catching your mussed hair, the smudges of mascara surrounding your eyes, and last night's now disheveled dress, then appeared to realize that he was, indeed, pantsless in your bed.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was hushed, tentative. He wasn't saying it outright, but you both knew the question was actually do you regret last night? You took a moment before answering him, trying to find the most correct phrasing for how you felt about it. About him.

"Honestly, I--" you started. His eyes widened, and he read into your hesitation a bit too much. Anakin got out of bed instantly, a gesture that would have been more dignified if he didn't have to shimmy out of the comforter and then hop over you to do so. The lack of his warm weight behind you made you feel oddly empty.

"I knew it, I'm so sorry. I'll leave now, I just--" Anakin said as he grabbed his jeans and started putting them on. Were you imagining it, or was he flushed red in embarrassment? It was kind of cute.

"God, you're stupid. Get back here," you said, motioning for him to come back. Anakin paused, his jeans pulled halfway up, then caught your eye. Based on your annoyance, he sensed that this probably wasn't a get-away-from-me type of conversation, so he finished putting his jeans on and buttoning them, then sat down on the edge of your bed. He was still tentative, like if he said or did the wrong thing, this moment would disappear. Anakin perched carefully on the edge of your bed, as far from you as mathematically possible. He probably had run calculations in his head, you thought.

"I was just saying that I'm too hungover, but we should still… Just not right now. My head is killing me." As you spoke, a smile grew on his face, but then he tried to hide it by pressing his lips together, an effect you would have thought worked better if he wasn't so horrible at it.

"Oh," he said, still obviously elated, but then his expression turned to concern, and he scooched an inch closer to you. "Do you have any Tylenol, or, like, electrolytes here?" You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. "Of course not." He didn't seem to think you capable of planning in advance, which flared annoyance inside you, but you decided to tamp it down. For now.

"Nah, I think I just need water and food. I'm gonna head down to lunch once I get dressed, then the lab," you told him through a yawn.

"Already? You practically live there," he laughed. Nerd, his tone cried.

"Big words from someone who is always there before me," you said reflexively. The retort had come out of your mouth as easily as breathing, and you hoped he didn't hate you for it.

"Touche," he said, though there wasn't any annoyance in it, just a smile. A silence fell between the two of you, and, unlike most times, it was comfortable. You weren't fuming, which was definitely a new one. Anakin looked down at his hands resting on his thighs, then seemed to work up the courage to say something.

"Look, before you go downstairs, can we talk? Actually talk?" What on Earth did that mean?

"You go first," you said. What did he want to talk about? As far as you were concerned, your positions were clear. Maybe you'd fuck tonight, maybe not, and then he'd be out of your system. You could get back to work. Something twinged in your chest, but it was from your hangover.

"Okay, so, um. I think you know that, even though you're literally the worst, I am… attracted to you. Somehow. And that I'd like to, y'know. Do stuff. I just feel weird about it because of the competition," Anakin said. His confession that he was attracted to you stirred something inside you, but you ignored it.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, I don't know about you, but if we… did things. I think I'd feel more upset if you won. Not that you will, to be clear, but if someone sabotaged my project and cut off my hands, you might have a shot." You snorted, then smacked his shoulder. He held up his hands, defensively, but he was grinning from ear to ear.

"But, I think I'd also feel weird when I win. You've been really helpful. At staying late so that I can use machines, to be clear. So I've been thinking, we're engineers, right? And, most of what we do is optimize. So why don't we optimize this competition? Maybe we could split the prize money. Because if I don't win, you do, and I need that money. Like, really need. And I'd rather get something than nothing at all if you win, and, for that insurance, I'm willing to let you have some of my prize money. And, in exchange, we help each other as much as possible to make sure that the two of us get first and second place."

Initially, you bristled. Giving away some of your hard-earned prize? That motherfucker was trying to take away from your victory. But, then again, with the way your tests were going now, there was no certainty that you'd be able to produce a working prototype by March. And, if you didn't, he'd probably win. Souring his win just a little would probably feel really good, you reasoned, given how full of himself he was now. The idea wasn't horrible, you thought. You decided to be honest, even though it almost killed you.

"You'll only hear me say this once--and don't you dare tell fucking anyone--but I don't know if I'll win. It's probably rigged in your favor, anyway." You ignored the indignant "hey!" Anakin let out, and continued. "So sure. That works for me."

You held out your right hand for him to shake. The sight was probably hilarious, given that you were still in bed with last night's dress and last night's makeup, but you were deadly serious. Anakin shook your hand, still smiling, and then pulled you up.

"C'mon, get dressed. Don't wanna miss lunch, too, or else we'll never see the lab in the daytime!"

Two hours later, you found yourself on the shuttle to the engineering building. You'd probably walk back long after the shuttle system stopped running, so you wanted to spare yourself one walk in the biting cold. Anakin was sitting next to you--the two of you and Ahsoka had eaten together, and you had spent most of the time getting questioning glances from her. His thigh was warm against yours in the cramped shuttle seats, and you caught him smiling at you once, which made your heart flutter.

You were not alone in the lab. You decided not to question why that was disappointing. On the upside, you got to see Barriss, who was in the corner of the lab, tapping something out on her phone. When she saw you, she came up to you and asked you about how you were doing, and you answered honestly. Tired.

Asajj was on the other side of the room and shot you a glance, but you ignored it. She wasn't your favorite member of the engineering department, but she was an environmental engineer. Not your circus. In the few classes you'd shared, she was kind of a bitch, actually. Barely acknowledged you. She narrowed her eyes at Anakin when he followed you into the lab.

You kept chatting with Barriss for a while, catching up. You felt like you hadn't seen her in ages, especially since she got a job working as an admin assistant for the department. She told you about her new idea for a thesis, some sort of collapsible electric bicycle, and how she was trying to make a better replacement for electric scooters. She pulled up her chair to sit next to your lab bench while you tinkered with your prototype, peppering in some questions about it. You lied through your teeth. It was going great, actually. You were more than on track. You had passed your initial tests with flying colors. Right as she was about to leave, you had worked up the nerve to say the truth, that you were terrified of how it was going. She would be the only person you'd ever admit that to--God knows you wouldn't tell Anakin.

Well, actually, now that you were in your agreement, maybe you could. The idea made you feel scared, honestly. What if he sent you on a wild goose chase? While you were thinking, Barriss said goodbye and rushed off to go get a late lunch, leaving just you, Anakin, and Asajj in the lab.

Now that Barriss was gone, you let yourself deflate. Pretending to do something productive while she watched killed you a little bit, and you found yourself not wanting to do anything else today. Maybe eat some pasta and sleep. Anakin came up to your bench a few times, checking to see how stuff was going, but you weren't really feeling up to engaging with him. You fended off his questions for several hours as you agonized over your failed test, checking the software's code over and over. It still worked on all the test cases other than the one where it really mattered, the one that took it from being a model on your computer to a device that looked at real, physical eyes. Sometime right before dinner, Anakin came up to your desk again, looking frustrated.

"Hey," his voice was low, so that Asajj couldn't hear. "Why won't you tell me what's wrong?"

"Why do you want me to?" You couldn't help it. You were being defensive, and you felt guilty the moment the words left your lips. His eyebrows furrowed.

"Because…" he trailed off, expression inscrutable, then continued after a moment, "We promised to help each other. I just want to help, honest." You studied his completely earnest face, so open. You faltered, for a moment. Even though you'd had that nice conversation earlier, you couldn't help but still see his face biting out a mean comment, or his sweet smile when he told you the circuit design you had drawn in freshman year for your final project looked fine, even though it had glaring errors. You could handle this on your own. Maybe, just maybe, if you got desperate, you could ask him. But not right now.

"I--It's fine. I think I just need to work on it a bit more." That seemed to placate him, all the way until you told him that you were going to go back home, to have dinner and study, then call it a night. He gave you that same inscrutable expression, which was kind of starting to annoy you, and wished you luck.

You, in fact, did have dinner, but you couldn't study. The equations swam in front of your eyes, all of them turning into questions of focal distance and refraction. You tried for two hours, and it was nine already, so you decided to switch tasks. Maybe now you would make some progress on your thesis.

And, so, the minutes ticked past as you sat alone in your bedroom, flipping through pages and googling random things like "refraction of printer paper." Ahsoka was studying for some exam she had tomorrow, and she said she'd be out late at the library, so you had room to spread out. You found yourself pouring cups of tea in the kitchen more often than was technically productive, and, more than a couple of times, you wanted to throw your prototype against a wall.

It was 11 when you caved and texted Anakin for help. It had been almost a week since you had this issue, and you were really getting to be behind, so this qualified as desperate. And if he was going to make fun of you, so be it. You cringed a bit when you saw that his contact name was still Asshole, a change made in anger in junior year when he called your group project idea the most boring thing he'd ever heard.

You: U up?

Asshole: bffr did you actually just send me a u up text Asshole: yes i am up

You: Can you come over? You: To help with an optics question

Asshole: yes Asshole: be there in 10

You: Thank you

Asshole: course

You changed his contact name back to Anakin. He deserved that much, at least. And, in the ten minutes before he came, you changed into some kind of lacy set of lingerie you'd bought the last time you went clubbing. Just in case. When you were with Anakin, there was always a chance things would go there, even if you called him over for a math issue. You threw your favorite comfortable pair of shorts back on, along with a loose Coruscant U shirt.

When he arrived, looking upsettingly hot in the bomber jacket, white t-shirt, and jeans he was wearing, you led him to your room, trying not to imagine the other reasons you might bring him there at night. Once he understood what your project was trying to do, his fingers scrolled the code you had written. He asked the right questions about various modules you'd used, then turned his attention to the hardware. He re-ran the tests, then grabbed your prototype and moved your detector around the room a bit.

Twenty minutes later, he had a diagnosis.

"I'm afraid the reason your machine doesn't work is that… you're stupid."

"What?" If you didn't need his help so badly, you would have smacked him.

"Yeah, look. First of all, you're getting a false negative from the fact that your code says to output a 'no glaucoma' response whenever it doesn't see glaucoma. So you could point it at the wall and it'd tell you that it doesn't have glaucoma, because, technically, it doesn't. And it's not reading either of these images accurately because, look, when you hold the paper like this," he lifted it up at a diagonal, "you can see that there's some reflection of light off the ink you used to print it. There isn't that in the training images you showed it, so it doesn't read it right. I bet if you did this whole thing on an actual eye with glaucoma, not a printed picture, you'd be fine," he said. "You've spent so much time hooking up the camera that you didn't spend enough time on making a good test, that's all. And, also, you need to make sure there's a way for the program to recognize whether something is an eye or not. That would also be helpful."

A certain calm took over him when he started explaining, like you saw in him when he was doing something particularly difficult. Those were the moments you found him most attractive, and, right now, the first time he was helping you for no other reason than that you asked, you thought this might be the most attractive you've seen him. His hands, gesturing. His eyes, sparkling. I want to kiss him. The thought propelled you to stand up, so that you were closer to his height.

"Thank you, Anakin. I mean it. As much as it hurts to admit… you're probably right," you said. After a beat, you continued, your voice lower than before. "And I'm really glad you came tonight." The confession slipped out of your lips like a secret, quick and quiet. Anakin's body was so close to you, you could have pressed yourself against him if you just leaned forward.

"You're welcome," he said in the same husky tone, his gaze flitting from your eyes to your lips. The air was charged with something, some kind of magnetic pull between the two of you. His softness toward you was new, exciting. Your hand reached out, brushing his wrist before finding his hand. When his eyes widened and he shuddered out a breath, it was like a jolt of lightning. He wanted you, badly. So badly even you could tell. The previous times you had done this, it'd been the heat of the moment driving you. Now, you weren't sure how to get from here to making him horny. This was soft, almost romantic, not angry and sexy and intense. What could you say?

"So, um. Wanna watch something?" Your suggestion was a little bit stupid, but Anakin's lips pressed together as he tried to subdue giggles. He failed, and started full-on cackling. You felt your whole face get warm from embarrassment. Well, damn. There goes that.

"Did you really actually for real just ask me to Netflix and chill with a straight face?" He was almost wiping away tears, apparently. Jesus Christ, you were just trying to break the ice. You smacked his upsettingly hard chest in annoyance.

"Stop laughing! Or else I'll--" you were trying to find some threat, something to say that would actually get him to shut up, when he jumped in.

"You'll what? What are you gonna do about it?" Something in his voice morphed, mocking, and though he was smiling, it reminded you more of the expression an animal makes before catching its prey. Self-satisfied. Smug. So, so fucking handsome.

You didn't need another second before you slammed into him, kissing him with a kind of fever you had only imagined. He'd been riling you up for days, weeks, months at this point, and you were finally going to get him inside you. Your hands found their way into his hair while he pulled you to him by your lower back. When you gently tugged, he let out a little noise deep in his throat and started nudging you toward the bed. The effect you had on him was overpowering, addicting. And, if you were being honest, he was riling you up just as much. His thumbs were playing with the skin that was directly under your tank top, sending little fires to your core.

You finally reached the bed, still kissing sloppily, and then he pushed you down onto it before connecting your lips again and climbing over you. Though he was hovering over you, supported by his arms, Anakin kept his hips just out of reach. You horribly, horribly wanted to feel that hardness pressing against you again. You trailed your hands down his chest, all the way until you reached the button of his jeans. You ghosted your hand over his length, trapped against him in his jeans, and he let out a hiss of air.

"Be patient," he said, going back down to kiss you. He notably didn't remove your hand, but you decided there was something else you'd like to explore first, anyway. As he slipped his tongue into your mouth, you moved your hand up his shirt, running your fingers everywhere they could reach. He was taut and warm, so smooth as you felt the divots of his stomach and the clenched muscles in his chest. You knew he was an athlete, but he was properly built in a lean and strong sort of way. You could have sworn you felt abs under your hand, which was only confirmed when he quickly pulled away from you, then shrugged off his shirt. Anakin could have been carved from marble. Even though you were drunk on him, a piece of you recognized the same otherworldly sense from that morning. Like a statue of Apollo had broken out of stone and stepped into your life, still above you and staring down with such intensity that it made you shiver.

His hands came up under your tank top, sliding up your stomach before they reached your bra. Tentative, warm fingers slipped under the wire and grazed the bottom of your breasts. A positively embarrassing moan slipped out of you. He chuckled against your neck and brought his hands further up until his fingertips traced your nipples. The moan that followed was even needier, and you didn't even care.

"Stop teasing me, Anakin, please take it off," you whined, pressing your chest up into his hands and lifting your arms above your head. He didn't need to be asked twice, and slipped one hand behind your back to unclip your bra--with some ease, which surprised you. Everyone you'd been with before had struggled at least a bit, but apparently Anakin was a natural. You briefly wondered how many other people he'd slept with, but you abandoned the thought when jealousy flared in you. Anakin then brought his hands back down to the hem of your tank top before pulling it off above you, then gently guiding the straps of your bra down, finally exposing you. His eyes over you, hungry, starving.

"Fuck, you're so pretty. You have no idea what you do to me," he groaned before leaning down to your collarbone and trailing wet kisses down until he reached your nipple. His wet, warm tongue darted out to circle your sensitive skin. His right hand came up to play with the other, pinching and pulling and twisting until you were mewling. Then, he let his mouth trail even lower, kissing down until he was right above the drawstring of your shorts.

"Can I take these off, baby?" He was looking up at you with that smirk, the one that meant he knew you wouldn't say no. Of course you wouldn't. You nodded feverishly, and he undid your shorts and drew them down your legs. As he did so, the word stuck in your head. Baby. Did he mean that? Either way, you weren't going to question the way it slicked your pussy. Your shorts landed somewhere at the foot of the bed, but you didn't care. You were too busy watching Anakin take in the lacy underwear you had on.

"Damn. Do you have someone else coming over, or was this all for me?" His tone was light, but he was looking at your pussy like a man possessed. He was practically drooling.

"Shut up, Skywalker, and just take them off." He did so, happily, hooking his fingers under the waistband and drawing them down your legs until they were all the way off. If you thought he was staring before, he was practically glued to you now. One of his hands came up to rub your upper thigh before he drew it closer, inward. By the time he got close your pussy, you were thrusting up and trying to get him to touch you, rub you, finger you, whatever. As long as he put his hand on you, you'd stop feeling so sensitive and needy. But then his finger trailed up to your other knee, perfectly skipping your pussy. That motherfucker. You groaned, and you swore you could hear him chuckle. Asshole.

"Look how soaked you are. Is this all for me?" He was sin itself, a demon sent from hell to tempt you. Well, it was working. You nodded. There wasn't any shame or anger left, just a desperate need to be touched where you wanted it. Needed it.

He trailed one finger to your clit, then ran it down the rest of your slit, letting it linger right on the opening of your pussy. He tapped it once, twice, and it made a wet slapping sound that would have made you a little embarrassed had you been less turned on. But this was Anakin, and he was clearly enjoying this as much as you were, if the rock-hard outline in his jeans was any indication.

Anakin slid the finger inside you and groaned at the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him as he curled it upward. His thumb came to play with your clit, and you blurted out his name. His eyes shot to you as he took in a ragged breath. So he liked it when you said his name, got it.

And then he lowered his mouth onto your clit, and his name came out of you immediately. When his tongue started moving, fast and warm, rubbing little circles into your clit, you started chanting his name like a prayer. He added another finger inside you, stimulating you everywhere. Your hands tangled into his hair. This had to be the best head you'd ever gotten, you realized. The last person to go down on you was probably your boyfriend in junior year, and he was sloppy and got tired quickly. It almost felt like he couldn't wait for it to stop. Anakin, on the other hand, ate you like it was worship. You could tell he was reading you, then changing what he was doing when he saw a good reaction he wanted to repeat. If there was a movement you liked, he would find it and do it again and again until your legs shook.

Words spilled out of you. Telling him how good it felt, how much you wanted him. Things you would never say, only think, if he wasn't destroying you. You thanked your lucky stars Ahsoka was out, because not even three walls between you would be able to muffle your moans. You grabbed his hair particularly viciously as you were getting close, and he groaned against you before somehow getting even faster with his tongue, finally bringing you over the edge. Pleasure washed over you, and the world was still for a moment before the first wave of your orgasm hit. And, when it hit, you let out a moan so loud you were sure the neighbors could hear. You didn't even try to hide it from Anakin, who could definitely feel you twitching and clenching around his fingers.

"Fuuuuuuck, baby. You look so pretty when you cum," he said as he pulled away a bit, before pressing a kiss against your inner thigh while your legs shook around him. You caught your breath, but your pussy was still hungry. Demanding. Anakin got up from between your legs, still panting, his chin covered in a combination of spit and pussy juice. You took a mental snapshot for later reference. His eyes were so wild, and you knew you were about to get fucked like never before. Anakin was back over you, and you reached out your hand to the hard flesh that was practically bursting out of his jeans. As soon as you grazed it, he grunted, looking you straight in the eyes.

"You want it?" You nodded as fast as you can. Anakin smirked in that way that usually pissed you off, but now it just made you wetter. "Tell me how bad," he commanded. You didn't know where the words came from, but, once they started, they didn't stop.

"Fuck me, please Anakin. Please. I've waited so long and--I, Fuck. I need you inside me, more than anything in the whole fucking world, please," you begged. His jaw clenched as he smiled, obviously satisfied by your answer. He popped open the button of his jeans before undoing the fly and pulling both them and his boxers off in one go.

His cock almost made you drool, and you vowed to have it in your mouth next time. You'd had this one boyfriend, and you had sworn to all your friends that he was the biggest you'd ever had, seven inches. Anakin blew him out of the water. He was at least eight, if not more, and girthy enough that you wondered if you could even wrap your lips around him. The light skin of his shaft had purple and blue veins that snaked upward, and you longed to taste them. He was leaking a bead of precum, which he smeared across his head with his thumb.

Anakin turned around and pulled a condom out of his jeans. Had he planned this? Did he come here, knowing, hoping that you two would finally fuck? He obviously caught your weird look, and looked at you with knowing eyes.

"What, did you think I didn't know exactly why you wanted me here tonight?" Anakin chuckled, and you had the good decency to look a little bit embarrassed, but he rejoined you on the bed quickly enough that it didn't really matter.

"Damn, you look fucking amazing like this," he breathed, a little bit wonderous as he looked down at you, your legs spread for him. He situated himself between your legs, then wasted no time teasing you before he thrust into you with a loud moan. You let out a strangled sound, finally full to the brim with his cock, which was hitting parts of you that your fingers never could. And then he moved, and every nerve in your body was on fire. Your jaw opened, slack, as he pressed his forehead to yours and drilled into you. You were so wet from his spit that everything was sliding just right.

"Shit, you feel so fucking good. I'm not gonna last at this rate," he grunted out as he sped up.

"I don't care, Anakin, just fuck me," you moaned out. His hips slammed into yours, finally giving you what you'd been fantasizing about when you were alone. You relished the way his eyes squeezed shut, the hot breaths he huffed out, trying to stave off his release. He was fast and efficient, but listened to your reactions as he fucked you, adjusting angles until you were making the loudest noises you had that night. It felt like he was stretching you out, filling you up until there was no more air left in your body. Then, suddenly, he pulled out, leaving you empty and wanting.

"Ride me," he growled. You scrambled to sit up, and he sat himself up against your headboard so that you were in his lap. Using your tired thighs, you lifted yourself up just enough for him to slip back in, which he did with ease as you both let out moans. You started raising and lowering your hips on him, working your way slowly so that he was fully inside you. From this angle, he was even deeper, if that was possible. Anakin's hands came up to grab your ass, squeezing it and occasionally giving it a gentle smack. You sped up, and words started tumbling out of his lips.

"Fuck, you don't know how much I wanted to do this at that stupid fucking party. You looked so fuckin' hot, I almost came when you sat on me," he confessed before letting out a particularly loud moan. You thought back to the way he was looking at you at the party, and it was the same glare he was casting you now. Like he'd give anything to be with you, like he was desperate for you. And he was. He kept repeating your name and how good he felt as you bounced on him.

"Shit, baby, I'm close," he gritted out. You could see it in the way his eyes squeezed, his brow furrowed, and his arms clenched around you. Your thighs burned, but you got faster. You were going to make him cum as hard as you possibly could. Soon enough, his breathing got faster, louder, letting moans fall from his lips freely. Then, he came so powerfully you swore you could feel it too. His hips twitched and jerked up into you as spurt after spurt shot out of him and into the condom. He threw his head back against your headboard, scrunching his eyes shut and moaning out your name. You could feel every twitch of his cock, every jump of his muscles under you. It was joy itself.

Once he finished cumming, you lifted yourself up and let his cock slide out of you. He was still panting, flushed and sweaty, but he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you to him. Your head was resting against his chest, his left arm around you, as he pulled off the condom and tied it off, tossing it into your bedside trash. Both of you were a little bit more recovered, but your voice was still hoarse when you spoke.

"Fuck, that was amazing," you said. And it was. It really, truly was the best sex you had ever had. Anakin seemed equally as happy when he looked down at you with that soft, tender look in his eye.

"Really?" You gave him a little mhmm before he continued, "I feel bad I came so early. It's just, it's been a while for me." The confession came quickly. Like he almost wasn't sure whether to say it, but you were glad he did. You felt the same way.

"Me too, like six months. You?" The hand on his chest traced patterns across his stomach.

"Two years," he answered, like it was nothing.

"What?!" You expected him to say a month or two, maybe three at maximum. How could a guy who fucked that well stay celibate for that long? There was no way this was his first time back after so long. It was just impossible. He obviously saw the shock on your face, then elaborated.

"Yeah, since I broke up with my ex, I just… haven't found someone I wanted to do it with." Anakin was gazing at you with such affection that, for just a second, you thought it might be love.

"Until me." You didn't know where the words came from, but he didn't seem to mind. Part of you just wanted to hear him confirm it.

"Until you," he added as he gave your forehead a kiss. You lay there, your legs entwined and your hand rubbing patterns on his stomach while his pet your hair, in a happy, contented silence. The minutes passed, and his breathing slowed back to normal, but the look he was giving you didn't change. It was terrifying. You found yourself saying something to cut off the thought.

"Hey, you wanna know something funny?" You asked. Anakin, entangled in you, cast you a questioning look.

"What?"

"Check the pocket of my pants," you said. He pulled his arm out from under you, then got out of the bed and found your shorts behind your chair. From their right pocket, he pulled out a condom, and then burst out laughing. You joined him, and, in the moment, you felt like you were on the same team, the two of you against the world. The feeling only intensified when he kissed your forehead, still smiling.

"I'm gonna go get us something to clean up. Be back in a second," he said as he pulled on his boxers and pants again, before leaving the room to go find your bathroom.

He returned a few minutes later with a towel, soft and warm under his fingers. One of your washcloths, which he'd run under warm water to keep it comfortable. As he cleaned you up, then waited for you to use the bathroom, you wondered when he became so caring. So considerate and sweet. But maybe he had been that way the whole time, you thought as he put his arm around you in the bed. His skin against yours felt amazing, even better than it did during sex. For the first time, as you drifted off with your head against his chest, you wondered if being with him like this could happen more often. Maybe all the time. And then the words slipped from your mind, like footprints in sand on a beach, before you finally fell asleep.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @skywalkercinema @throughparisallthroughrome @anak1ns-wife @radiantvader @eloquenceinpurple @rosekillerdaughter @doblasftcisco @rhiannonhippiegirl @mistress-amidala @mortalheartache @xorilixx @sunnytotheend @olivia091108 @aniiuv @sotal3rsa @springnaiad @bettysgardenswift @ursogorgeous13 @avalovesjoe1 @anibeaar @anisluvrgirl @johnbassplayercutie @mcdonaldshelppage @usuck

[nadas-dirthalen]

I've been thinking about how the bg3 wiki lists this as Gortash's singular spell as a boss.

Dazzling Ray, y'all. A bright beam of radiant light. Supremely sun-coded.

And I'm thinking about how even though I've seen that mid-transformation, Gortash's new Avatar of Bane has green eyes with black sclera (very Bane-coded!), his full transformation has these, sourced from this Twitter post.

Not to mention how there is LESS Bane iconography on his Avatar Of Bane form than his jacket, previously. That it is more gold than black, and that its curves (while reminiscent of Steel Watchers) are all knight- or paladin-coded, not tyrant-coded.

Because is that not the way of him? Always designing things to look heroic. Always playing at being a just ruler, but never able to enact that in truth.

But still shining radiant light at people. Still. Still.

And I am thinking how Raphael, like Viconia - personally motivated against Gortash, like Viconia was to Shadowheart - also has Punish Divinity as a passive ability.

And I am thinking about a boy who was sun-coded from the moment he was named. An artificer, yes - whose magical attacks are coded with the same radiance as his earliest youth. Whose eyes burn gold like the sun, after changing to green with black sclera. The gold overtakes them. But why not a dark glow? Why not something dark and inky like the half-illithid transformation?

And why, pray tell... why is the crest over his heart white, and inscribed not with Bane, but with what looks like radiant lines?

My conclusion: Enver Gortash might be an artificer, but he's living out the arc of an Oathbeaker paladin to an evil god. Where, all along, even his Avatar of Bane suggests that there is something light at his core, contrasting the dark swallowing the rest of him.

[starless-nightz]

May I request nico di angelo with a younger sister whoes a lot like percy, leo, and or jason?? (maybe bianca too)

Nico with a younger sister! reader whos a lot like Percy, Jason and Leo

note -> Nico is literally my brother yall!

warnings -> none.

content includes -> fluff, slight angst(?), protective! Nico, idk what else to add here sorry.

Nico is fiercely protective of you from the moment he realizes just how much you remind him of the friends he's lost. Your mix of Percy's bravery, Jason's leadership and Leo's humour stirs up a great amount of emotion in him, and he gets this deep-seated urge to keep you safe, even if you can more than handle your own.

You are the radiance which brings so much light into Nico's life. You are full of life and optimism, a complete opposite of Nico's really serious and withdrawn nature, something which he finds refreshing yet at times overpowering. You're one of those people who would drag him out of his dark mood into participating in activities within Camp Half-Blood, even when he's all stingy about it.

Nico can't help but see glimpses of Bianca in you, particularly in the manner you show concern for him. Your kind nature and the fact that you try to put others before yourself remind him so much of his lost sister, and that makes him both so protective and a little scared of losing you, too. Sometimes he will be just watching you from a distance, with eyes soft in a wistful stare that usually flies right past you.

You share a lot of Percy's daring and recklessness. Be it charging into a dangerous situation or telling a joke to lighten the mood when all is truly serious, you have a knack for lightening up the mood. Nico does scold you time and again for being too reckless, yet in your ears, there's always a hint of fondness with which he does that. He constantly worries about you, even when he knows you're capable.

Your humor reminds him of Leo so much-your constant jokes, trying to coax a smile from him whenever you can. It's one of the few ways you actually break through the stoic exterior he often wears. Even as he rolls his eyes or acts like he's annoyed by it, he silently enjoys how you bring laughs into his life-something he has missed sorely.

Nico is in awe of your bravery. You're as responsible as Jason and have innate leadership qualities that he does, as well. You're one of these kinds of people that has always got to step forward when the going gets tough-even if it puts you in harm's way. That's something Nico really looks up to you for, even though he often wishes you'd take a little more care.

You both balance each other out perfectly. Where he is quite a lot more internal and brooding, you're the one who encourages him to be a little more social-whether it be joining you in conversations with other campers or joining in activities that Nico would usually steer clear of. He helps to keep your feet on the ground and reminds you that sometimes things need to be taken seriously, and when you need it, he's there in support-albeit quiet support.

You both watch each other's backs on quests. While you are perfectly capable of holding your own in a fight, Nico's always watching your back in case things get too intense. Tease him as you will that he is overprotective, but you know the truth-it's because he lost people before and doesn't want to lose you too.

You make it a point to check in on Nico, that he's eating proper, sleeping enough, and isn't shutting himself away from the world too much. He's not great at talking through feelings, but he is grateful you worry about him. It reassures him he's not alone; someone still values his well-being. Grumbles at times, but to him, it means more than he's able to express.

Nico has a soft spot for the more serious moments of yours. When you drop the jokes, the playful attitude- it brings out a caring side in him reminiscent of Bianca. And he's caught off guard by it every time. He sees the compassionate and deep thoughtfulness that's a side of you, and it reminds him you are not just a mirror of his past friends but your own person.

Your relationship with Nico is one of understanding. You're both really different, but in a way, that underlying bond that siblings do have runs deep. You understand the loss he faces, and he realizes that behind the light-hearted mask you wear, you too bear the load of being a demigod. This mutual understanding of each other's case makes your sibling bond quite unbreakable; it's a source of strength for both of you.

You're one of those few who can actually make Nico laugh. An endangered species, perhaps, but when it finally does happen, when you do get one real laugh out of him, it's some sort of minor victory. You treasure these moments, knowing well how much they mean. And Nico-never to say so, of course-loves in secret how you can lighten up even the bleakest of days, just that little bit.

[mediumgayitalian]

In his head he is brave enough to say it: gods, you are beautiful in the moonlight. He is. He has made Nico weak in the knees since they were fifteen and new and fragile as spun glass, and he does now. In the moonlight his radiance is much subtler; he is opal and pearl and quartz, he is shining and multifaceted.

Instead he traces the bob of Will’s throat, his long, freckly neck, cratered with burn scars and cupped with a raised white scar from years of endless picking; follows the wild winding wisps of his hair, barely held back by his old sunglasses, compressed in coils around his head like a pen spring squished to the size of its threads, creaking with the weight of its own potential energy, brimming with the imagined burst of its future; memorizes the fluttering flap of his feathering eyelashes, the delicate dips of his deepened Cupid’s bow, the roughened raze of his wide rowdy hands. All of him is in motion, always, but now especially, hands twitching on the wheel, head thrown back, mouth wide and shaking along with his shoulders.

“I really like your laugh,” and it’s quick, vowels tumbling over each other and tripping the consonants, a queue of clumsy hopefuls scrambling over shoulders and clasping hands. The pretty laughter fades and arched eyebrows replace it, poorly hidden surprise, twitching smile lines, and Nico looks deliberately forward, mortification cackling along each of his wire-tense muscles, dancing along the shimmering heat of his face. “It’s. Wide.”

“Wide?” asks Will carefully, craning his neck to glance in his blind spot, whispering chuckles dancing along to the beat of the blinker.

“Wide,” Nico confirms, flicking out his hands. His fingers are not nearly as long, nor as wiry or corded, but the scarring is mirrored. Nicks and scratches and burn marks and calluses, topographic maps of time spent.

Will’s turn is successful — the strawberry baskets dip dangerously from their precarious perch on backseats, but don’t fall, shifting over and around each other to burst tiny globules of stretched taut flesh, rubbing against rough reed ribbons. Nico inhales deeply, and the sweet is almost nauseating, summer fruit twisting in the air along with lavender body wash and Blistex and Texas summer sun.

“You take up space.”

“My laugh?”

Laughter in his words in his hands in his skin, in his eyes, in the coils of his hair, in his grass-stained heels, in the bends of his scar-bleached knees. In the dancing dots of his face arms chest legs. In the dip of his bottom lip, crater under his too-big front teeth. In the jut of his crooked spine and wide hips.

“What about my laugh?”

It is in his words more often than not and in Nico’s dreams even more so. It curls around the blurry edges of his dreams and weaves into daisy-strong chains, dangling from the too-high ceilings of his nightmares, coiling around his arms and chest and back and yanking with the force of breaking ribs, the force of bellows, the force of clasped bloodless hands. Dragging him across trench gouged ground to bright light and clear air and the distant memory of summer rain.

“That you like, I mean.”

“It’s snorting,” Nico confesses. Will reddens, and Nico smiles, under the heat of it grows sunflower and dandelion and tinted brown-eyes Susans. “Um. Loud.”

“Geez,” Will grumbles, “tell a guy the truth, why don’t you.”

Nico has never seen gold under silver nightlight and it fascinates him, how Will sparks and shimmers, how when the sun sets it does not fade away. How the tiny specks of precious metal weave through him like tinsel and glow in veins of sweet summer memory; how the warm night billows and blows around him lovingly, how the breeze from the open window greets him like a precious grandchild, a beloved nephew. Seedchild; beloved of the earth and sun, performer under the moon, the stars.

Will’s wide hands inch across the dash, brushing over the ancient radio dials and dipping over the skipping cassette, pausing by the base of the gearshift and resting, limply, palm open, fingers cracked and spread. Knuckles popping and chittering amongst themselves, hiding in the bent hoods of wrinkled skin. Nico lowers his heavy hands on the heated hopeful hesitance, curling his cool fingers around much longer ones, and squeezing, once, twice, thrice.

“I like your laugh,” he repeats. He rolls his shoulders, hands flexing, twitching, pulling.

Will’s hand tightens. The road opens up and the Atlantic glimmers beside them, moon whispering to its rippling waves, and he smiles, grins, wider than before, and he is laughing, again, and it is wider even this time, as wide as the sparkling silver water.

“I hear you.”

He squeezes.

You are beautiful in the moonlight. You are beautiful all the time.

Nico squeezes back.

[wordslikesilver]

I love what this DLC redefined about Melina. I never took to the gloam eyed queen theories, and now we learned about two incredible things in the DLC. The Minor Erdtree incantation finally explains in truth what the concept of Unalloyed Gold is, it is kindness without Order. I take this to refer to one’s love for a specific reason I’ll elaborate on in a moment. This explains several things. First, the flaw Marika discovered in the golden order was its compassion, its love and kindness. No matter what you think of the golden order as a regime, it still had that value of kindness deep down inside and that’s the flaw that goldmask identifies. The flaw within Marika herself that leaves her doomed by the narrative. It couldn’t be the Order that was the flaw, because that’s what failed Miquella when he tried to cure his sister of the rot. Miquella’s entire platform was kindness and acceptance of all. That’s the unalloyed gold that healed Malenia. Marika needed the Radagon aspect of herself to convince her Order was worth it all. And then she’d reached her limit and could take no more of it all. Enough. No more of this golden order. No more Erdtree. No more Elden Ring or greater Will or fingers pulling strings. Enough. And surely there was only one way in all the world she’d cope with the pain of losing Godwyn, of possibly even arranging his death so that the plan could be set in motion.

This is where the most beautiful tragedy of the DLC comes in. Miquella and saint Trina. He severs his love from his existence so that he could become a god. We learn that a demigod/god can sever parts of themselves that become living entities. This is how Radagon came to exist. But more importantly, this is how Melina came to exist. Melina, who fights with the grace of a black knife Numen woman, who keeps destined death sealed within her eye, who dreams of fire. Melina, who is kind and gentle and soft spoken. The girl who knows deep in her heart that no matter how grim it all may feel, there is hope and love in this world. The girl who can cast the ultimate healing incantation, minor Erdtree, and a version of it that we the players can’t even match in size and radiance. The kindness of gold, without order. Melina is Marika’s unalloyed gold, shriven clean from her body and given life. Her love, her kindness and all her weakness, turned into a young maiden who wants nothing more in all the world than to save her own mother from her suffering. Just like St Trina begs us to save Miquella from godhood, Melina begs us to help her free her mother from the prison of the Erdtree and godhood itself.

I love that this DLC recontextualizes Melina’s entire existence as Marika saying “If my love and my kindness are a flaw, then I will use them to burn this fucking place to the ground.”

Put on your tinfoil hat on for this last part but it’s too good not to think about, Melina fights like a black knife and carries destined death within her. Imagine if she was there that night to kill Godwyn. His mother’s love and kindness being the one to kill her most beloved child. Lower his guard, maybe. It’s so fucking raw imagining that and I lose my mind picturing the scene.

[tenebris-lux]

OOF.

- chapter 22, Words of Radiance

Something I like about the chapters in The Stormlight Archive is the theming. I noticed in The Way of Kings that if a topic or situation turned up in one chapter, the following chapter featuring someone else would sometimes have a similar topic.

For example, Shallan got a practical philosophy lesson in chapter 36, and it ended with her having to navigate some problems without clear-cut answers about what was right and wrong. She just witnessed her mentor bait and murder a bunch of people, but the circumstances surrounding it make it difficult to pass judgment on her. And, fueled by anger, Shallan finally stole from the woman—the task she was set to do to save her family.

The chapter following that is a Kaladin flashback involving a meeting between his father and Roshone, who’d been deliberately sabotaging the family’s livelihoods out of pettiness and greed for the spheres Lirin had been given by the previous lord.

Except … he hadn’t been given them. He’d taken them.

Like Shallan, Kaladin just saw a shocking side to his guardian whom he admired, one not entirely kosher, and it raised difficult questions on judgment.

That was a tangent, but that kind of thing shows up a lot in The Way of Kings. My point, though, is that Words of Radiance has minor themes in chapters, sometimes ones that are more easily picked up on rereads. In chapter 22, Kaladin gets hit with an uncomfortable truth about “Shen’s” place in Bridge 4. And he realizes some of the truth of it, but he won’t bend the class rules that much, even though it bothers him. And this is ironic, because this just happened 2-3 pages ago:

Infuriating, isn’t it?

We’re getting the chapter from Kaladin’s perspective, so he’s not picking up that Dalinar thinks it’s a situation he has to investigate carefully because of the status involved. And we’re kind of with Kaladin on this—he deserves justice and we’re very unsure of Dalinar will help; if so—doesn’t feel like it, but if so—it’s not going to happen any time soon.

Following that, he gets confronted by Rlain and feels like he can’t afford to make a change for this one guy.

Rlain is roughly in Kaladin’s place, and Kaladin is roughly in Dalinar’s.

That’s not a perfect metaphor at all, but I do believe the rough similarity was intentional.

[demonkinguwu]

Oops, I remembered my Pokemon AU and decided to redesign them <3 Trainer: Hat Kid Pokemon:

Froslass [Vanessa]

Mimikyu [Briar (My OC)]

Rotom [Rumbi]

Polteageist [Snatcher]

4 Sinisteas [Not HK's but follow Snatcher around]

Lampent [Stella - @artificial-radiance's OC]

Lore + Alt Snatcher faces' below <3

In a world of Pokemon and humans, rare humanoids known as 'Poke-Humans' exist. They are capable of leading Pokemon or human lives, even becoming trainers themselves and fighting in special tournaments. It's rare, but some can be caught by trainers they trust.

A long time ago, two royals, a spoiled princess from Kalos and a snooty prince from Galar, were in the middle of their wedding ceremony after meeting for the first time. Both didn't like each other but knew they had to wed for the good of their kingdoms. But right after speaking their vows, a stranger interrupted the ceremony, cursing them into becoming Pokemon. A strong frost woman and a weak teacup, neither in their right minds as they stole the lives of their guests.

100 years later, an orphaned girl was beginning her journey with her rotom. She ran with a sparkle in her eyes as she dreamt of becoming a Dragon Trainer Champion until she found herself in front of a couple of gang members from 'New Rocket Mafia', she ran away as they chased her. Still, one nearly caught her until rotom tased him until fainting. Miffed her journey started with a bunch of bullies chasing her, she took a fancy briefcase from him and found empty weird-looking Pokeballs. Before she could take a closer look, the man twitched, making her panic and into the abandoned woods until she found an empty village.

She went to an abandoned manor, hoping for shelter to hide from the gang members, unknowing of the terror that awaited her inside. An angry Froslass with countless frozen victims, she escaped to the basement before she froze her, lured by the sweet smell of a delicious-looking cup of tea, not noticing the decaying unfrozen skeletons. She nearly became one more victim as she placed her lips on the teacup, Rumbi warned her about a ghost nearby. In a panic, she threw all her pokeballs and caught the spooky tea cup.

Confident, she could fight the Froslass now, she collected her stuff and planned to use the Sinistea. Unfortunately for her, when the moment of truth came, he was not the powerhouse she thought he was... Even more so, he wasn't even a full pokemon! Panicking as the stranger was panicking and throwing shadow balls all around, she threw her pokeballs at the Froslass, catching her.

After explanations and hypotheses, she made a deal with the two ghosts, she'll help them find their way into the modern world and a cure for the curse and they'll help her as her Pokemon and help her have a full dragon team. Now traveling with two horrible ghosts who hated each other and their situation, she hopes she could find a cure quickly.

At least, that's the summary of all this but obviously, they stuck around for a loooong time and gained new non-dragon companions jfdnsdf

[decagondice]

༓ To die for ༓

Soft!Sukuna x reader, SFW, nobody wants to die alone.

The night had long settled in, draping the room in a quiet darkness that felt like it stretched beyond the walls. The only light emitted from the single lamp beside the couch, casting a pool of radiance across the living room and leaving the corners of the space to blur into shadow. Outside the windows, the world was a distant whisper of the city, muffled and forgotten. The lamp lit the rug beneath you with a warm, muted lustre, making the vintage patterns seem more vibrant against the dimness around them. The coffee table had been pushed aside, leaving the patterned carpet as your only anchor, its worn threads familiar beneath your backs as you both lay flat, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all the answers to the unspoken thoughts lingering between you in companionable silence.

Sukuna lay beside you, his long form relaxed and steady, a quiet force of calm in the stillness. His hand rested casually on his stomach, the other across his chest, loosely holding your hand. The warmth of his palm seeped into yours, a quiet reminder of his presence with the slow rise and fall of his chest, a steady rhythm beside you. You were lying flat, mirroring his position, but one of your legs draped over his —your ankle hooked lightly around his calf. Even in the silence, the small gestures tethered you both to one another, preventing the quiet from seeming too empty.

The air hummed with a muted serenity, broken only by the soft buzz of the lamp. Your thoughts drifted lazily, catching on to the small details around you—the delicate shadows the lamp cast on the ceiling, the faint scent of a candle recently blown out lingering in the air, and the soft warmth radiating from Sukuna beside you. Every now and then, murmurs of conversation floated between you, soft and inconsequential—idle remarks about the day, fleeting thoughts, and the occasional half-amused grunt from Sukuna. His voice, though always a little rough around the edges, softened in moments like this, as if the intimacy of the night had worn down his usual sharpness. He spoke with an absentminded curiosity, his tone almost careless, yet each question seemed deliberate, pulling you back into the moment. You answered easily, your voice low, as the quiet rhythm of conversation flowed between you, filling the space with the simple comfort of shared words. It felt timeless, as if the world outside had faded, leaving only this quiet moment to linger endlessly. 

But then, as the night deepened, the conversation shifted—subtly, naturally—until the lightness of your talk began to give way to something heavier. The words you hadn’t intended to speak found their way to the surface, filling the air with an almost tangible weight.

“I don’t want to die alone,” you murmured, your voice quieter now, as though the admission itself might break something fragile in the space between you. The room seemed to grow motionless with the words, the ceiling above you suddenly feeling too far away, as if the truth stretched across the room.

Beside you, Sukuna remained silent, not responding immediately but you could feel the slow expansion of his chest, the way he seemed to absorb the heaviness of your words. His thumb grazed over your hand—a small, almost indiscernible gesture that spoke louder than anything he might have said in response, a silent acknowledgement of the words hanging between you. His hand stayed heavy in yours, a reminder that in this moment, at least, you weren’t alone.

After a beat, his voice cut through the stillness, low and rough, but quieter than usual. “You won’t,” he muttered, his tone simple, gruff, but steady. There was no grand promise in his words, no overstatement of sentiment. Just a fact, solid and unwavering, something undeniable that left no room for doubt. It settled into the space between you, a quiet assurance that needed no embellishment.

You turned your head slightly, stealing a glance at him in the faint glow of the lamp. His gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, his sharp features softened by the gentle luminescence, the shadows playing gently over his skin, making his expression unreadable but calm. For all his strength and sharpness, there was a soothing tranquil to him now—a rare kind of ease that came only in moments like this, where the world felt quieter, more intimate.

“I’ll be there,” he added after a pause, his voice softer, rough around the edges but laced in something that felt more real than any promise. It wasn’t an offer, or even a consolation—it was a truth, simple and direct, just like him. The kind of truth that you could feel deep in your bones settling into the air between you both with a weight that made everything else seem lighter. His presence beside you, the steady warmth of his hand in yours, the weight of his words—they all spoke for themselves.

You shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of his leg beneath yours where your ankle rested against him, knitting you both together. The touch was grounding, an unspoken acknowledgment that no more words were needed. You simply breathed, letting the truth of his words linger in the air, filling the quiet between you. The room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking as the weight of mortality and time slipped away, leaving only the present moment. The sadness that had crept into the conversation dissipated like the last traces of a fading cloud. The quiet harmony of two people who understood the world’s fragility but chose, for now, to lie still together beneath the dim ceiling.

And just like that, the conversation ebbed again, flowing back to lighter topics, mundane things—the kind of thoughts that filled the space without burden. The heaviness was gone, replaced by idle murmurs accompanied by the quiet hum of the night.

You lay there, side by side, hands loosely entwined, staring up at the ceiling. The world outside blurred, buried. Here, on the carpet beneath the faint glow of the living room, you were anchored together, the quiet of the night wrapping around you both like a blanket. You didn’t need anything more. The stillness, the warmth, and the simple act of being here together was enough. His body beside yours is a silent promise that in this world—no matter how fleeting or fragile—you weren’t alone.

A.N. 'To die for' by Sam Smith started playing from my playlist after a very long time and-and-and- ! This was the result.

[here-there-be-drag0ns]

Okay I have had this theory for months but I never actually laid it out before now. However it's well past time I actually do that considering episode 115 all but confirmed its truth (theres still wiggle room for me to be wrong, but honestly not much)

THE FERIN FAMILY ARE AASIMAR, AND HERES WHY:

The thing that originally made me go Hey Wait A Damn Minute was the visions of the original prophecy and its history that gillion got from that tree: "Another flash, and you see these red-haired olympian looking humans and elves and all kinds of different races that are flying with their own wings". And I heard that and thought about how much that sounds like aasimar, and then the weird dreams jay had and then captain widow insisting she has powerful blood and then star saying she sensed divinity on jay and then the whole ferin family's affinity for fire magic and everything just clicked into place.

Then in episode 114 we got the recording of Faye Ferin saying "hail the solar mother" and i was like no fucking way- BUT i set it aside because it felt like I could be reaching with that evidence. It could just be a religious phrasing, not necessarily something literal.

Then episode 115 happened and I got confirmation of my theory.

Grizzly doesn’t outright say "yes the ferin are aasimars”, but he gives us all the last few pieces of the puzzle.

Here's a link to the episode that should start where the confirmation is - the two tablets: https://youtu.be/M9ig9XCUrvU?si=oYdisYFxTqx6ogbb&t=868

Transcript of the tablets: Tablet One: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. We are descendants of the sun. Thus, we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail. Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history. Tablet Two: Shards of the divine, these words are for you and you alone. Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes. Unity is the key to prosperity. Our elders will raise generations that burn with vigorous radiance.

NOW ON TO MY EXPLANATION!!

The thing that confirmed it outright for me is literally the line "We are descendants of the sun", because there are no ifs ands or buts about it - aasimar are descended from celestials. The aasimar entry for Monsters of the Multiverse states "Whether descended from a celestial being or infused with heavenly power, aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls." the tablet Jay stole from her grandmother is written in celestial, and says they are descended from the sun(aster), ergo, descended from a celestial.

Next up is the whole "Thus we are the light - the beacon that will eradicate the dark. We are the flame to which all will yield. We are the shining justice that will always prevail." bit. The entry for Protector Aasimar (the subrace i believe Jay fits best) in Volos Guide to Monsters reads "Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness."

Then there's "Our steps illuminate the way forward and our hands spark the tales of history." Which then in the MotM entry it says "aasimar are mortals who carry a spark of the Upper Planes within their souls. They can fan that spark to bring light, ease wounds, and unleash the fury of the heavens."

THEN THERES THE REAL FUCKING GIVEAWAY!!! THIS LINE: "Know your kin, recognized by the manes of flickering flame, wings that rival dragons, the golden suns in our eyes."

MotM says "They resemble their parents, but … often have features that hint at their celestial heritage." and VGtM says "They are a people of otherworldly visages, with luminous features that reveal their celestial heritage."

OF THE CELESTIAL FEATURES OPTIONS OFFERED BY MOTM, ENTRY 2 IS "METALLIC, LUMINOUS, OR DARK EYES" AND ENTRY 3 IS "STARKLY COLORED HAIR". THE FERINS ARE WELL KNOWN FOR HAVING BOTH.

The tablets are, of course, not my only evidence.

the ferins arent born with The Ferin Eye as revealed by Jay having to earn hers and Drey talking about when he got his. "now icarus," i hear you say "wouldnt that mean they dont actually fit the celestial features requirement?" and to that i answer "NO! IT IN FACT FITS IT BETTER!"

In discussing aasimar celestial features, MotM says "These [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature." Jay didn’t have the Ferin eye until she earned it and its subsequent abilities. And we all remember how she earned it, right?

A weird ass fucking dream.

Now let’s look at that. According to VGtM “An aasimar, except for one who has turned to evil, has a link to an angelic being. That being … provides guidance to the aasimar, though this connection functions only in dreams. As such, the guidance is not a direct command or a simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.”

In Jay's first sun dream (Juice Roll With It // Episode #88), Grizzly describes the sun and says "You feel like its presence is trying to reach you. And as you notice, you feel almost like you want it to.”

And then the core of the dream itself:

Grizzly: “Do you think Jay can withstand this impossible heat of the sun as you get just barely one step closer?” Condi: “I’m gonna say no… but she would try anyways, if that is, like, what the feeling is kinda giving her, you know?” Grizzly: “This powerful presence, as hot as it is - you can’t help but think of your sister. You can’t help but think of your friends. But then, you think of your mother, and then you think of your father, and then you think of your grandmother” (makes condi roll con save with disadvantage, condi got an 11) “with an 11, you take that step forward, but this overwhelming pressure, anxiousness, fear, handcuffs your spirit, closes your mind, and you just feel the heat of the sun overcome you. And you are jolted awake back in the reality. … but you know that in this dream you lost. You lost to the heat.”

Then the second dream (Happy Wife Happy Life // Episode 102), where the sun is hotter and larger than before and excruciatingly painful:

Grizzly: “You just can’t help but stare at it with both eyes wide open. And behind you you feel another heat.” (Condi asks if Jay can see this heat or if Jay is too focused on the sun) “You know that this heat signifies that backing away and falling is not an option this time. But as you look at the sun, you once again think about your family: your mother, who said she was sick; your father, who called you naive; your grandmother, who threatens the safety of your friends. You think of your friends. So I ask again, this time: do you think Jay can withstand that heat? That pressure and that fire?” Condi: “I think as Jay is staring up at this sort of immense fireball that represents… obviously her pressure, and she feels that heat at her back… I don’t think she would look at the heat as, like, something preventing her from stepping back and falling anymore. But in this metaphorical sense - since a lot of this is a metaphor - she’d probably look at it as what she basically can’t turn her back on, what she can’t leave behind. Basically like her new hope. You know, what she wants to protect. So she’s in between this and this giant fireball. Um. And I think with that in mind she would take a step forward and, um. While maybe not fully confident in herself, she would jump into the fireball with all her might, doing her best. ... I think she can handle it. She thinks she can handle it.” Grizzly: “Fair enough. That’s all I asked. You jump in- go ahead and roll a con save with advantage.” (Condi got a 19) “You leap with almost like a raging fire of conviction even if you doubt yourself, jay. And the sun almost seems to open up to welcome you in. And at first, the searing pain of the fireball’s heat feels like it’s melting your skin. You scream until it feels like it’s melting away that doubt. And then, all of the pain subsides. There’s a calming sense that kind of overtakes, jay, in your subconscious. And it’s all white at this point - your whole vision.”

So the sun reached out to jay through a dream, as aasimar’s celestial links tend to do, and gave her a test of strength that she had to figure out for herself (“as such, the guidance is not a direct command or simple spoken word. Instead, the aasimar receives visions, prophecies, and feelings.” - VGtM). She only passed it by remembering she had people she needed to protect (“Protector aasimar are charged by the powers of good to guard the weak, to strike at evil wherever it arises, and to stand vigilant against the darkness.” - VGtM). And when she passed this test given to her in a dream: “speaking of your vision, you begin to feel a warmth behind one of your eyelids. And the next day comes as you’re the first to wake at the very crack of dawn. The sun rises, and you rise with it. And you blink a few times - you feel something different. … This time, you look into a mirror and, just like your dad, just like Drey, you see this bright orange glowing eye on one of the sides. And you feel whatever that was: you passed it.”

This, therefore, perfectly fits Jay into the aasimar’s celestial features description that “these [features] often begin subtle and become more obvious when the aasimar gains the ability to reveal their full celestial nature.” Jay had to prove herself to the goddess to earn another celestial trait.

And once more, “Icarus!” I hear you cry. “You keep saying Jay fits the Protector Aasimar subrace, but don’t Protector Aasimar have incorporeal wings that come from their celestial heritage? Jay’s wings are from a tattoo! That doesn’t work!” To which I say, “Are you sure?”

The Protector Aasimar’s subrace ability is called Radiant Soul and allows the aasimar to “unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to glimmer and two luminous, incorporeal wings to sprout from your back.”

Jay’s wings come from enchanted tattoos with which she can cast Fly. These were a deliberate choice Jay made and are not celestial in origin. However, in the first sun dream, when Jay reaches out for the sun Grizzly says “You begin to feel the tattoo on your upper back sting.” When condi asks to clarify if it’s the Niklaus tattoo, Grizzly only says “Just the upper back.”

This, of course, leads me to believe that those dreams will or already have affected her wings in some way - perhaps leaving space for her to unlock more of her celestial heritage and power as she earns it. It’s something we’ll just have to watch and see for.

Either way the Ferins are aasimar, Jay's gonna be the first one in generations to earn their true celestial power from Aster, and i will Die On This Hill