#Glow OC

[sugarspiceheartssh]

•𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃•

Gift for my friend @wishing-dandelion !! :3

I drew her OCs Luna, Glow, and Spark :D

Also, this is NOT SUN AND MOON SHOW!!!!! PLEASE DO NOT TAG AS SAMS!!!!

•𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃••𓂃˖˳·˖ ִֶָ ⋆★⋆ ִֶָ˖·˳˖𓂃•

[saturnvs]

guiding light

[andminnequin]

He’s been dubbed therapist ™️

[artist-rat]

some epilogue vibes (an excuse to draw some hugs. and my durge so many times)

[somnirie]

first post, here's some art i made <3

[melchi0or]

This mf cannot ascend ‼️

[thrashthresh]

Some Ghast-ly mobs for you today

[cmentarek]

And I hope that all of the fake memories I’ve created with you in my head, will someday become real for both of us.

[sahisan]

fem reader. nsfwish. is this an anaxa version of dirty talk... and he also worships you. man is so down bad.i swear i had like two free hours and a vision.

"you’re glowing," anaxagoras says.

you blink. you are—the soft shimmer under your skin has been going rampant as of late.

he stands.

and when he walks toward you, it’s with the pace of someone approaching an artifact no one else has been permitted to touch.

you don't speak as he kneels before you, still standing against a shelf filled with the scripts you sorted out earlier in the day, purposeful, and places a hand at your hip.

then both hands.

then his mouth.

you exhale like you're being unmade.

and as his tongue traces patterns only he seems to remember, as your fingers twist into his hair, as the sharp edges of your composure begin to peel back ever so slightly, just with this, he speaks.

no, he recites.

"there is no divinity more cruel than that which inspires silence in the hearts of the celestial, for in that silence burns longing—and longing, unspoken, is the birthplace of worship."

you intake a sharp breath, barely holding onto yourself, a hand braced against the shelves behind you. his voice doesn’t falter.

"to approach the sacred is not to touch, but to know. to taste knowledge is to surrender to it. and to surrender to her—she, of moonlight and collapse—is to find within destruction the shape of paradise."

your thighs tighten around his shoulders. you don't remember a single manuscript that said this.

your breath stutters.

his tongue doesn’t stop. neither does his voice.

"the one who descended with no herald, who bore the grief of falling like a crown—she is not to be pitied, but praised. for even undone, she remains... formless divinity. the mind bends not to light, but to her."

it's a soft, broken sound that leaves you next. your hands slide down the shelf, trembling.

he presses further.

"tell me what you feel,” anaxagoras says softly between phrases, lips never straying far from reverence.

you can't answer. your throat constricts around the truth of your feelings, suffocating.

so he takes that, too, and continues.

"the laws of reason fracture where she treads. every theorem collapses under the weight of her. and i—logic-bound, oath-sworn—i kneel not as skeptic but as supplicant, for what else is left before a truth this blinding?”

your knees nearly give.

he holds you up with one arm around you thigh, the other anchored to your hip.

"you are glowing," he murmurs, more breath than voice now.

you sob, soft, stuttering, fingers gripping the back of his neck, glimmering veins shining too brightly.

you know what he’s doing. taking everything from you, peeling back layers you didn’t even know existed.

and you let him.

and when you fall apart on his tongue, you don't have to say anything. he doesn’t need you to. you're lost in him, lost in the rhythm of his devotion, in the prayer that is his voice.

and anaxagoras just keeps reciting, as if the words are a lifeline that he needs to help live past another night.

"she is not the echo of divinity, but its original form, fragmented into flesh. and i will worship her until silence speaks—"

you can’t speak. tears gather faintly at your lashes, remnants flickering just faintly under your skin like the last pulse of a falling star. he sees it. knows it.

he keeps his mouth on you, and doesn’t stop until you're nothing but divinity, undone and cradled in his logic.

he hums against your skin as your trembling calms down , finally looking up into your very soul.

"—and kneel before her until my knees bleed, and call it knowledge."

his hands are steady. your glow is not.

and then he bends again.

to worship.

[prisiidon]

Zoras with them shellpipes and seaweeds. Feat. my Wisp! 💜 I ref’d a mellon-soup pose~

[kenchann]

🤖♠ studying

[czerwonaczaszka]

Full version on it’s own ⁎⁺˳✧༚

[captainzigo]

[cherryysocks]

i'm me again... feels like it's been years...

[miskiart]

🌕 my sun my moon my stars 💛

[wombywoo]

evolution 👤