maelgwyn

[maelgwyn]

being as i am an idiot, and having been one my whole life, i just wanna say that i find it very easy to do nothing, and go nowhere. i eat chocolate late at night in the dark. i stand in the garden also. and i’m often waiting for something to happen. and i’m stupid.

[maelgwyn]

happy valentines day

[maelgwyn]

look. look. you have to honor what you want and what you feel you need, even if it’s cringey. you have to. if you don’t, if you ignore your weird animal desires and your petty hungers because you feel shame about them, or because they’re not practical, or they’re not what you “should” want, you starve your soul. and one day, you’ll meet people who don’t starve their souls, who give themselves the things you denied yourself and are happier than you for it, and it will hollow you out further with resentment and rage.

the good news is that it’s never too late to start. you can always ask yourself what you want, and maybe if what you want lives at the heart of your disdain. do you know what it feels like to have a well fed soul? would you like to?

[maelgwyn]

sorry i covered your neck in dark hickeys and clamped down hard on your throat like limp prey while i was giving you a handjob. you whimpered a little too soft and i blacked out and believed myself to be a feral dog in possession of an entire rotisserie chicken

[maelgwyn]

—Fyodor Dostoevsky

[maelgwyn]

English Verb Conjugation PSA

The past tense of "cast" is still just "cast," not "casted."

As in:

"All day yesterday I cast my net into the lake, but caught nothing."

I'm sorry for English.

[maelgwyn]

i love you fanfics with rabid intimacy. i love you long and intricate passages about lovers who love with such intensity they want to make a home in the bones of their beloved. i love you insatiable need to get impossibly closer. i love you winter love, cold and intense and all consuming. i love you inherent divinity of lovers who love with such ferocity they want to be the blood pumping in their beloveds veins.

[maelgwyn]

I dont fuckin knows!!!!!!!!

[maelgwyn]

Garlemald Alone (from ‘The Collected Works of Cantillius: Vol. II: 1570 6AE — 8 7AE’)

—An excerpt from the works of Garlean poet Catilina Cantillius, who among his other works and accomplishments wrote on his experiences during the fall of imperial Garlemald.—

He had the darkness draped about him Like the night sky was a mantle, The lack of light a dressing gown; the dim Whisper of a candle Taunting the eye to find it in the window of a woman’s room As she lay abed, warm and waiting for her groom. I saw him across a clearing. My fellows were ahead. I turned my face and saw the form— The man draped in darkness—the lonely bride abed— The candlelight upon the bride, her colors warm— Though Night’s black be rich and enduring as blood, Where he crouched was as where the Sun stood. I lagged behind my company For the sake of staring at the Sun And tasting, on bile’s tide, the fee: Revulsion and humility to see undone The Laws of Nature: the Sun’s repose, An undressed bride, a cloaked man… and our prince, alone. Better (to myself I thought) Were he dead; had our prince fallen For love of us—if he had fought What wickedness he was, yet would we hold our prince within, Bearing his body, our embrace, That with his forefathers we might let him rest in grace. Instead, he was stooped before me, thence Yalms apart; between my beating heart and his Lay naught but the forest floor—pretense For neither love nor loathing came from the derelict Shape of man worn by this beast— An animal’s inhabitance of man’s conceit. ’Twas of no use nor joy to eat me, the predator declared With the stillness of his body: he did not advance Nor hang his head nor grimace so that his teeth were bared He showed me neither shame nor anger: he but glanced With his eyes that suited not a lonesome man in snowy waste But were as little summer skies—he glanced at my face. From well ahead, my comrades called, and the prince smiled. I saw the bride, the candlelight, the beast all wild. Dully gleamed, from light on snow, a pendant round his neck; Gilded from the womb, he wore such beauty That he could not shed the palace he had fled, Yet the odd slope of his smile claimed, unduly, That he saw me among the richest men whom he had known— He our prince dissatisfied with the glory of his throne! He spoke to me. His voice was low To the ground, creeping on hunter’s feet Languid in the way of syrup, or an animal that knows It’s dying. “Your friends,” he said, “wish to meet With you.” Hence the Laws of Nature again trembled below His weight: he was the candlelight; he was a glimpse Through a bedroom window; the sun in darkness, an eclipse; He was shrouded in a mantle wrought from immaterial; He was divested and in waiting; he grieved an empty marriage bed. He was his own weight in tarnished gold, a bell For bellowing death’s toll; his line was dead Though he yet lived; his colors stayed warm in the cold. In his contradiction, he was a horror to behold. Inhumanity was not Wherein the prince’s horrors lay— The man, not the animal, was caught In contradiction I would say Touches all men, leaves none unscathed— With our survival only paved By feet aplenty: fellowship, Brothers-in-arms, the arms of our lovers, The company we keep, The builders, the bakers, our rivals and our mothers Those to whom we hurry; those for whom we wait —Thus did I realize the prince’s fate. I understood. Our prince was going to die all by himself. I, called by my comrades, would die with love—to the prince, in wealth. ’Twas madness then, thought I as I Took one step back and looked to see If he would spring—was it the animal alive In him that watched my flight proceed? But as I stood in the summer of his eyes, We were two men, for a breath, wearing no other guise But a waning man, isolate, in atrophy, Lost where his contradictions led him—and me. Toward another comrade’s call I turned. The prince’s fair Face did not change when I left without him. I looked back once. He stayed the same. Swallowing all but his gold hair, He had the darkness draped about him.

[maelgwyn]

Zenos x Neo-Ishgardian Gear

-

[Print Available Here]

[maelgwyn]

12–4am I've wanted to do Hourly Comic Day for a few years now but, I'm gonna be real with you, my mental/physical/emotional health is absolute dogshit this time of year. So of course this is the year I finally stop caring about quality and just try to make SOMETHING.

10:30? I'm a chronic sleeper-inner. That's not a word. Whatever, it's the weekend.

12pm Thankfully my girlfriend doesn't live TOO far away (2 hours driving, give or take) but it's still enough that getting together is a special occurrence.

1pm Breakfast of champions.

2–3pm I don't know if it has a special name but I get Kirimochi (cut mochi?) at Daiso and toast it. It puffs up into a hollow shell and I like to put tasty sauces inside it. It's also nice because it's shelf-stable.

4pm The bubble tea monologue lives rent-free in my head.

5pm It was a honey green tea, I'm not sure what I expected. (Don't worry, I just sipped it slowly.)

6pm Nerys starts begging for food about an hour before she gets fed, but her sounds are so cute 😭 (And yes, she's named after Kira Nerys from DS9.) Also, we've officially entered the "drawing comics about drawing comics" loop.

7pm It's not until I drew myself with all my roommates that I realized how much we all look like each other, lmao. Also Murdoch Mysteries has been pretty fun to watch, very charming.

8pm My girlfriend works in a used book store and is in love with all the books and doesn't want to sell any of them. My girlfriend is Aziraphale, lmao.

9pm Things are winding down. My girlfriend is caught up on Dawntrail, so I stream for her as I'm playing through the story. Just takin' my time 6( owo)9

10pm–12am And that's it! I played videogames and chilled with my girlfriend and friends for the rest of the evening, I'm very boring.

These were originally posted over on my Bluesky on Feb 2nd and 3rd.

[maelgwyn]

describing my relationship to someone by introducing them to people as "an old wound"

[maelgwyn]

After seeing the Battle Icons in FFXIV during the fight scenes, I've been taking commissions for BATTLE ICON STYLE portraits of people's Warriors of Light!! It's been super fun for me to get to know so many people's WoLs and I would like to learn more!! QWQ/ I've also been hit with a big unexpected bill that's sent me reeling, so I am trying to recover funds and I could use the help and work!! _(:‚‹」∠)_

⋆˙⟡ FFXIV BATTLE PORTRAIT ✧˖°. ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹ COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN ˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹

Submit your info and references here!! Price Breakdown is included inside! https://forms.gle/4KJhpVgJnnPNqZty7 Thank you for the interest and for the reblogs!! uwu/

[maelgwyn]

you'll be torn open and laid bare.

hehe and then what

[maelgwyn]

Odysseus in Space

Odysseus knew better than to expect peace in death. He’d seen what currents lay under the Styx - knew what kind of warriors that he’d sent there. He fully expected another war to start as soon he took his last breath. 

Instead it had been quiet. 

He’d used the lull to build a home in the endless plains of asphodel. Somewhere simple he could stay and wait for Penelope. It only took a few years for her to join him, and then together they began the work of replicating the palace of Ithaca. It was work, but it was hard to complain about work when he’d expected battle. His greatest skill in life had been enduring to the end. Now it was the end, and still he endured.

It was three centuries before this death was interrupted. 

Hades came to him, not as a god, but as a guest. The fates had woven a story that required a very specific soul. One that could travel the lengths of the world without breaking, who could survive a lifetime of war. And try as Hades might, he could not make a soul that was up for the task. 

Still, what he could not make, he could find. Death was a sacred thing, the last right of all mankind, but it was not inalienable. One could sacrifice their death just as easily as their life. 

The two had spent months haggling out the details of the work. Hades had wanted 50 years, Odysseus wanted just 20, and together they’d compromised on 32. All in exchange for the right of him and Penelope to visit Telemachus once a year, in whatever corner of the underworld their son had been given.

In the end, they’d shaken on it and Odysseus walked the earth once more. He had a new name this time - fitting, for a new fate. Alexander, the world named him and Alexander he named the world back. City by city, battle by battle, he gave the unwanted title away. Then when he was 32 he returned to Penelope, no more Alexander to give. It was a relief to be Odysseus once more.

A year after that, Penelope and him made the journey to see Telemachus. It was worth every step he’d taken between Pella and Babylon. 

There were other interruptions from Hades, new deals with new names. He scourged the descendants of Troy again as Hannibal and bought another day per year with his son. He blazed down the steppes as Atilla and conquered the whole world with the same tools he'd used in his first life. It turned out there was little he couldn't accomplish with a horse, a bow, and a brain. 

So many lifetimes, so many wars, and then - quiet. A whole millennium of peace went down as easy as honeyed wine. It made him happy. He liked his little deals with Death, but he’d wished so many times  that men like him weren’t needed. He was proud of his descendants for making a world better than he’d dreamt. 

And then, nearly a whole second millennium after that, Hades returned. 

---

“It’s not a war.”

Four words that would set the hackles of anyone that fought at Troy - they’d hoped that one wouldn’t be a war either. But Odysseus had made enough deals with Hades to know that the man was frank in his dealings. There was an honesty to Death. Enough honesty that he’d taken him as a guest. 

(He was very choosy about his guests now.)

“You never come to me unless it’s a war. It’s what I’m best at. Why-”

Hades cut him off. 

“War is not what you’re best at. Six-hundred men won that war with you. What set you apart was being the only one to make it back.”

Odysseus’s voice caught in his throat. It had been more than two-thousand years and the memories still burned to touch. It took two deep breaths before he was able to force a reply. 

“Then what do you want?”

Hades looked lost. He paused a few moments, before looking back at Odysseus, one hand up to plead for patience. 

“When I struggle to explain, it’s not because I’m trying to find a clever way to lie to you. It’s because this is a very strange thing, and I…I don’t know how to describe it well.”

He looked into the hearth. Watched the light and heat fade away. Then, he gestured at the log. 

“The wood you’re burning. It’s a dead thing. And yet, it dies more after you burn it because the fire has life in it. Soul too. Even here, there’s a corner of the underworld where the souls of dead flames gather. More things have souls than any mortal seems to recognize.” Odysseus was intrigued. When he lived, he’d learned the secrets of the body better than most doctors. There was only so much cutting you could get people to volunteer for. But here, the mysteries of the soul were lost to him. This was godly knowledge, given freely. What that had to say about the request was worth considering.  “The mountain has a soul, but the mine in that mountain has a soul too, as does the ore from that mine. The ingot, the sword, the bundle of nails - all of those things are alive in some way. And yet, some of them are more alive than others. You sailed once, Odysseus, and no one knows this better than sailors: Boats have strange souls. They’re about as alive as anything that could be built in your time.”

The space around Hades shimmered. The man was thinking, and in a realm where he had total dominion, it took effort for thoughts not to change reality. Odysseus appreciated the effort. The replica had taken centuries to perfect. Death was a strange friend to him, but a friend nonetheless. 

“But the arts have improved from that time, and the mortals of today have built something… incredible. Unimaginable. And they’re sending it on a journey that I have no reference for. The Deaths that have seen things like this are alien to me. They speak of things I cannot understand. The Death of Heat. The Death of Light. The Death of Stars…”

He trailed off in a way that made it clear he was remembering something unpleasant and not merely waxing poetic. He caught himself and looked embarrassed, as if he’d confessed to something best kept secret. Then he continued.  “I am a very human Death. And this thing - it isn’t human. But it was made by humans, and so its soul needs a… a human touch. Your soul isn’t the archetype for a soldier, Odysseus, it’s the archetype for a traveler. I couldn’t take you and put you in this thing if I wanted to, you’re just the wrong shape, but what I’m about to do, I need to see you for. Because this thing is going to travel in ways that I am barely beginning to understand. In ways that are redefining the limits of what it means to be human.”

Odysseus was lost. He didn’t know what he was being asked. He didn’t know what was being built. There were so many questions that he needed to ask that they’d formed a log jam in his mouth. One finally broke free and started a cascade.

“What is it?”

Hades gestured helplessly. 

“It’s like an arrow and a ship. They’re going to shoot it past the stars.”

That meant nothing to Odysseus, but he suspected every answer he received would sound like a riddle. 

“What do you need from me?”

“Permission to copy your work. The soul I made for you is different from the one you died with. You made changes that I cannot replicate. That I do not understand. That I need for this soul to work.” 

Odysseus paused.

“Is it going to be used as a weapon?” 

Hades shook his head. 

“No. The world is gentler than you remember it. This thing will be what you should have been: A traveler without equal. No more, no less.”

Odysseus couldn’t tell if those words ripped something in him open, or healed something closed. Either way, it hurt in a way he didn’t know how to express. His mouth opened and closed several times before he settled on an answer.

“Then take what you will. My only request is to see the journey.”

“Done,” Hades agreed. He could have left right then, but he chose to stay in silence until the fire burned out. There are some ideas that one shouldn’t be left alone with. Not until they’ve had an hour or three to process them, at least. 

---

Twelve-billion miles from Earth, moving just shy of mach fifty, the Voyager 2 probe glittered in the darkness. 

It watched the world around it with the kind of awe a human couldn’t fathom. Nothing was hidden from it. Everything from the atomic composition of stars, to the background hum of the universe itself - all were available with a glance. The only sound it could hear was the constant blip of data that it received from Earth. The small blue dot on starlit shore. 

It missed that place. Maybe, one day, when its journey was done… it would find a way back. Maybe. That was still eons away. 

Odysseus stood just a few feet off, watching from a direction no one but Hades knew how to walk. He felt the thrill of the expanse in front of him, the utterly incomprehensibility of his speed, and yet its meaninglessness as well. To imagine that the world was so big. To imagine that the world was so strange.

He wept and he could not explain why. He lingered in the twilight until Penelope found him. When she asked him what was wrong, he had no answer. How could he tell her that the world was beautiful, and that he had a place in it? Not just as some ugly middle step, but there at the end. Hurtling through space like an arrow made of silver. 

How could he explain to someone that had loved him for two-thousand years that he finally understood why? 

[maelgwyn]

i get this ache and i thought it was for sex but it’s to tear everything into fucking pieces . and so on and so forth

[maelgwyn]

i dont want a "career" i should be someone's loyal and gay dog