#ive been drawing them so much and so often i might as well turn this into a daily account haha

[wntrmelts]

bbg fished a fisherman out of the sea and he does NOT know what mouth to mouth resuscitation is

[marleemutt]

TLDR: im a black trans artist who can use some help right now following the sudden passing of my only sister - her doberman is now the responsibility of my parents and we can use help for his food, supplements, toys etc.

Kofi (help me send Chewy orders to my parent's house)

Wishlist (literally send him things like toys, treats, etc.)

⬇️ more info ⬇️

hey guys

some of you might be aware of this already, but early October, my eldest sibling & only sister suddenly passed away due to a seizure, she had been dealing with epilepsy her whole life.

this has been incredibly difficult for me, and my family. her passing was incredibly sudden, she was only 30.

for the past month or so ive been struggling to find any motivation to draw, and barely able to work.

she was the incredibly devoted owner of a doberman named Remi(Ramsey). Me and my sister traveled 4 hours to pick him up three years ago. He's a goofball who tears up socks and needs constant supervision. My parents love him, but I can tell he is a lot of work for two people who have fulltime jobs and have lived long lives.

I'm going to try to help them take care of him as much as possible, I feel that it's the least we can do to honor my sister's memory, since she loved him so deeply.

My sister always wanted a doberman, for years she would watch videos about dobermans and talk about them to anyone who would listen.

Remi wasn't easy to raise - I shared a room with my sister when she got him in 2020, she still worked a 9-5, five days a week, so I was his nanny for most of his difficult childhood. I was his chew toy for the first year of his life about - but that only made him bond closer to me. If he wasn't following my sister, I was choice #2. Dobermans are "velcro dogs", they were bred to guard their owners, and because of this, they are fiercely loyal. I've been moved out of my parent's place for going on 3 years, and my sister had just moved with Remi out a few months prior to her passing.

A week before my sister's sudden passing, we had to board Remi at my dog daycare job while my family and I took a trip out of state. When dropping him off, although he was happy to see me again for the first time in months, the moment my sister turned her back to him he began to panic. He got through the boarding all right but my coworkers told me he would cry and wait by the door for me or her. When my sister picked him up, they said he jumped all 80+lbs into her arms.

Since my sister's passing, Remi has been directionless. He's with my family, people he trusts, but he's bored, confused, and heartbroken. My sister would often take him to the dog park, social events, on runs, etc. but my parent's can't do that in their age. If my apartment allowed large dogs, I would take him, but I can't, and I see him maybe twice a month if possible.

Ramsey's Christmas List

I made a christmas list for him of things that might help my parents better take care of him. We're trying different food brands out because he struggles with frequent stomach issues, and we can't seem to figure out what food my sister was feeding him. This list is by no means a necessity for him, but I tried to add things to help with his boredom and keep him stimulated when my parents can't give him all their attention.

i do want to state that my family is capable of providing him with the essentials to live, we arent irresponsible. i would just like to help my parents out since a 3 year old 80-90lb doberman is a lot of work to be suddenly placed on them soley. And I worry for his health and well-being sometimes - Remi has a tendency to eat/tear random objects when he's bored.

please consider donating whatever you can. Everything goes directly to him.

thank you for taking the time to read this, and possibly reblog if possible. ❤️

[nikikikiko]

jumping rq on the afk arena found family ever (gavus, eugene and their kids) but ive been brainrotting and well i have some headcanons:

• Liberta and Lucilla did not come out of everything entirely unscathed emotionally and mentally. 10 years and becoming generals at young ages did not do them well.

• Likewise, it is a very real fear of Eugene AND Gavus that they’ll go to sleep one day and wake up right back in their respective prisons, alone.

• So the four tend to have some nights where they all just stay up instead of sleeping (much to the detriment of Gavus who wants his children to have healthy sleep habits) , typically nights like these are spent in each other’s company as a physical reminder that the bad is over now

• Lucilla tends to get overprotective at times of her brother and her fathers, because she doesn’t want to be separated from them ever again. This trait made itself especially well known when she and Liberta defected from the Hypogeans and Celestials, but has since calmed down.

• Liberta is semi verbal, because some days he can’t bring himself to speak.

• Eugene handles a lot of the practical advice side of parenting whereas Gavus handles a lot of comfort.

• Of the two fathers, Gavus is the one holding a more strict grudge against the Celestials and Hypogeans than Eugene is. This is mainly due to Gavus being overly protective and hard to let things go, which makes one realize where Lucilla got it from.

• During their time with the Celestials and Hypogeans, Liberta and Lucilla were treated oddly. Lucilla was trained only ever in the art of combat, she had a lot of friends but she wasn’t being given much formal education due to that not being her purpose. Her status as a weapon, as Dusk, made it so that nothing else mattered much except her combat prowess and destructive power so she could turn the war in favor of the Hypogeans.

• Liberta on the otherhand was educated academically but only ever with Celestial morals scattered everywhere as they didn’t want to repeat Gavus’s defection. However, he was not given proper treatment among Celestials and his feelings were often not taken into account on any decisions, as he was a weapon, Dawn, and weapons followed orders.

• These things do not go away so easily, and right after they left the two divine factions, they got into it a lot because they struggled to reconnect initially. It took some time and good ol bonding while looking for their dads to get them both as close as they are now.

• But even then, they still struggle sometimes. Lucilla struggles with learning how to not utilize violence to solve every problem she has with someone, whereas Liberta struggles to stand firm to his feelings rather than writing them off for the wishes of someone else.

• Gavus upon learning any of this found himself feeling absolutely Livid inside but inhale exhale his kids need their fathers right now

• And that’s not to say Eugene wasn’t angry either, but his rage was very much turned into energy and determination to make sure nothing would ever hurt his family ever again.

• Liberta is still just as eepy as he was when he was a kid. He naps anywhere at any time. Lucilla will draw on his face from time to time, Gavus will put a blanket over him, and Eugene just straight up carries Liberta to his bed.

• Lucilla can be best described as “what if I eat that” and she’ll always try to eat it. She has eaten candle wax, cardboard, a leaf, grass, paper, etc. and it is all due to curiosity, she never eats the same thing twice if its not edible or good tasting.

• Eugene very much bullies Lucilla in the same way a parent will lovingly bully their child. He makes fun of her but he’s always among the first to support her too. Eugene has been trying to help her focus violent tendencies into crafting instead, noting that it’s easier to destroy but more fulfilling to make. He has since received many a lopsided woodcarving of what could be a bear but might be a duck.

• Gavus is similar but he indulges Lucilla’s antics as long as nobody’s hurt. He also reads really bad YA romance novels with her, like Twilight levels of bad, and they’ll talk shit about it together. Lucilla isn’t one to be too involved with it but sometimes the plots get so wild and out of control it sends Gavus into a frustrated rant and sends Lucilla into orbit with how hilariously passionate her dad gets over stupid crappy romance books.

• On the flipside, Eugene definitely teases Liberta but he’s much softer with him since Liberta is a bit more sensitive than Lucilla is. He and Liberta share a love for puzzles and cool gadgets, if they go into the market and have some extra money, you can bet your everything that they’re going to go off looking for another cool and fun thing to bring home.

• Meanwhile Gavus and Liberta tend to cook together !! Since Eugene has been banned for abuse of spices and seasoning causing one too many dinners to be over seasoned or over spiced, Liberta has taken up the role as co-chief for Gavus and they use that time to talk about interesting things.

• Family Game nights but instead of games its debate nights where they take a topic and they just debate over why they’re right abt it. Yk like what kind of chair is better or whatnot. Sometimes they’ll do teams and sometimes it’s every man for themselves.

[raidenloml]

3 from the askgane dor whichever characters u want >:]

ack!!!! ok so!!!

3. weapon of choice? any particular reason they chose their weapon?

(this is a perfect question as ive been playing more splatoon 3 recently so i actually have a feel for the weapons i want my characters to use hihi + ill just list all of the ones i currently have chosen weapons for!)

turns out, this post grew way longer than i thought it would so uh woe read more be upon you

Arsenic:

Definitely Splatana Wiper as main and (Luna) Blaster as secondary, he has a quick and agressive playstyle so these are the weapons he usually goes for (also his aim is absolute dog with chargers and splatlings are a little bulky and slow for him, he can use shooters when needed but he doesnt find them interesting to play)

Link:

Probably sticks with a vanilla Splat Charger, likes to play support/backline but still pressures the opposite team quite a bit whilst staying out of fire himself. Other than his proficiency with his main weapon he probably has some practice in with other weapon classes as well. (This is because he works for Ammo Knights hihi)

I'd imagine him being kind of well known for his absolutely bonkers k/d ratio because of his high awareness playstyle but he would definitely have the dumbest deaths in practice :')

Zel:

Zel is a HUGE fan of heavy weaponry like this woman is absolutely insane about them and practices every single one she can get her hands on but her main weapon of choice in battle would probably be a Dynamo Roller or a Nautilus when she's feeling extra silly... as for why its mainly because it helps her stay physically strong and uhhh lifting super heavy weapon in practice means she doesnt have to go to the gym often

A4:

Definitely shooter class weapons, probably sticks to something like an N-Zap, Splash-o-Matic, Splattershot and Splattershot Pro but is quite handy with a Squiffer when needed. I imagine at some point A4 and Link would switch roles just before a match to confuse the opponent (very silly behaviour)

BONUS!!!!!!!! These are characters which i havent really thought of in a competitive sense or havent developed yet

itll be very messy going forward mainly because i want to yap so hard about these little inkfish thumbs up

Fern:

Fern doesn't really play that much but would probably prefer Dualies, not sure which but she'd probably switch it up sometimes

Violet:

Brella 100% (i dont know how to explain it i just feel it in my bones) her Brella would probably be decorated to the max literally her pride and joy (also known as her favourite fashion accessory as she's too busy with her job to actually use it in battle :( boowomp)

Amber: (<- Arsenic's younger sister!!!)

Brella/Bucket, i haven't really thought of her in battle but she'd probably just mess around a ton lol

Ise Rotag:

Ise was originally the character that was Link's like future partner??? their story was really nice but he got replaced by Arsenic after i abandoned the two for a few months and decided to revive Link again (you will see Ise more btw i fucking love his design and cuntyness) FOR THE WEAPON! Probably an Inkbrush honestly this guy loves to be annoying and sneak up on backliners when they least expect it, plays very aggressively as well... also his name has a really funny origin and if youre able to guess it ill uhh idk good job

I have 3 other characters but they all dont have names so uhm yeah ill just go quickly through these

oc based on coroika, inkling, probably something backline, dont imagine them in battle often

waiter, octoling, grim blaster (or so me from 2 years ago wrote down)

shut-in, inkling, new squiffer (again according to notes left to their design drawings)

2&3 were together and 1 was a sona for shits and giggles but uh theyll come back someday!! i promise!!! like their designs and relationship dynamics too much!!! they might even be Ise's new teammates!!!

[elegyofthemoon]

im posting this before i forget and also sorta leave for the night cuz i gotta sleep a little early

• Posted stuff today ☺️

• I decided to do a bit of the writing tag game on my other account and it is WILD to see just how much i wrote the past few months??? im kinda proud tbh. I may be a little discouraged from posting these days but it's honestly really nice to see myself posting as much as I do - and esp to see how much ive written during all this time. this is aside from all the logs i do bc thatd just add further to my word count, but hdhfjdjd really despite the horrors, i'll always have writing. or well, writing's just been such a huge part of my life that if i cannot write then I'm not myself anymore. njdjrjd and my friend nick has mentioned this too that i dont seem like myself if i dont have a wip and all that jfjdndd

• i hate to say the rafayel birthday event made me embarrassingly happy but it really did 🙈

• speedwriting a fic. much shorter than something i wrote earlier but like !! idk i havent felt that surge of inspiration that was fun lmao wish that happened more often

• getting another message from a job i applied to that might be interested in hiring me. the positive is this ones a little more interesting than the one i did a recent interview with but same general position. still very 👀

• my friend finished london holiday and might start second key real soon and im so fucking sorry to him about the person i'l turn into when he starts liveblogging at me about it BUT ALSO im actually really happy and excited about it .3.

• OH FOUND OUT THAT MY SISTER WILL BE HOME EVEN FOR THE LITTLE BIT WHEN I GET BACK!! i thought i'd miss n entirely when she's back which made me sad but she'll be there for at least a day when she's back so !! i will beat my jet lag to hang out with her if i have to >:(

• n sending me something that reminded them of me was really sweet 🥹 it made me very happy tbh jfnfnddjj i was kinda shocked

•also saw new artist drawing characters from anti entropy that genuinely made me very happy 🥹🥹

• ngl thinking about tomorrow after the exam has me excited. i still have one more exam to go, but for once, i feel excited by the idea of saying goodbye. i dont really care anymore how i do for either exams, but it's one more step out of this life and one more step into the new one. i think thats exciting and im excited for it. i wish i could say the same about doing the practical exam but that one i just know ill go home dreading so ✌🏼 but tomorrow! lets have fun after the exam and visit the bakery ive been wanting to go to and finally get that silly plush ive been eyeing 🤧 let's give this life a nice farewell and send off before i go

[candiedapplez]

I ask you all of the questions from that one reblog. Good luck/nf/j

Omg ok this will be a while then tehehehehehehhe im not complaining though!!!! Heres the questions so u can look at the questions and the answers!

1.this one is OBVIOUS!!! A-90 and Opheebop!!! DUUUUUUUH!

2.lighter. Ive never used a match before

3.ew no!!! I don't want buggies crawling in my room while im sleeping!!!! However i have before!

4. Aaaaaa ive never really gotten into that stuff so i cant really give an answer-

5. A really dark brown!!

6. Oops i did that again???

7. Well idk ive used both and they are both work really well! however i do think scrunchies are safer for your hair, i use normal hair ties more often because scrunchies are more bulky and yeah i dont prefer that, but both are great!

8. Six. I have six.

9.NONE! COFFE IS GROSS BLEEEEEEGH!!

10. Ofc!!

11. Does drawing count?

12. Good day!!!!! I havent cried yet so-

13. Not too long ago, like an hour ago actually. I had pizza! (Incase u were wondering)

14. HELL YEAH!!!

15. Nope and i never want to be 😗

16. NoooooOoOoO-

17. Nope i have perfect vision muah

18. I DONT WANNA SAY TEHE! (Sry)

19. Yea ofc!!! But they probably wont turn out good…

20. Soda…. Ive never seen or heard anyone say pop before….

21. Plushies!!!! I have a unicorn plush my old friend (we dont talk anymore since she moved) gave me for my 7th bday!!!! Yes i remember when, yes i still have it! And its in perferct condition!!! Also there was this one kid who ig had a crush on my and he gave me a basket full of stuff for valentines day and i still have said basket-

22. I have no clue what this means? I guess sensitive?

23. Love it!!!!!

24. Eating :] (and joking abt pushing each other off probably/JOKE/JOKE/JOKE/JOKE)

25. Aaaa i use all of them but i use lotion most so ig lotion?

26. Idk what to say for this one aaaaaagh

27. Like 5 i think? Ive been getting better with my sleep time!!!!

28. Not anymore, our school last year said we could take them off, however i was SO insecure about my face (still am, but not as much as before) so i would wear it every single day. If i showed up to school without one people got surprised. I stopped wearing them this year, however.

29. Hot????

30. THE FUCKING WATER BOTTLES!!!!

31. Theres a lot, i dont wanna get into it 😵‍💫

32…… is that a thing? People have favorite towels??

33. Hm my school took us on a field trip to a high school so we can see animals if that counts… (i have pictures btw if u wanna see them! We saw pigs, sheep, cows and bunny! I didnt take pic of bunny tho 😢)

34. LITERALLY EVERY SIX THE MUSICAL SONG HOLY SHIT IVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS (the only ones i might mess up on are aywd and idnyl bc aywd is long and i dont listen to idnyl often)

35. Pst!!

36. Only once! My username used to have a 0 between the words (Candied0applez) but i changed it bc it made it sound like i candied no apples… but i was originally going to be called caramelapplez but i thought candied sounded better heheh)

37. The friend i mentioned earlier i met first day of kindergarden, her name is Alana, and this other girl Maya i met before kinder! We met eachother at a park and when we walked home we found out we were neighbors so we instantly became besties! (We still are to this day but she lives 30 mins away so i dont see her often-(

38. All…?

39. Sometimes!

40. Ice cream!!!

41. Empty. Coffee is gross

42. Hahahah yt, roblox and occasionally twitter!

43. HAND IT OVER BITCH!

44. Myself/j fucking donald trump 🤮👈🖕

45. NO ☺️

46. Oh god i dont watch any 🫢

47. | v

this actually was to the other girl i mentioned earlier! Maya! I found baby pictures of us when we were in 2nd-3rd grade and i showed her today!!!

48. Never and i dont plan on ever!

49. Never tried

50. GO AHEAD I GET SO EXCITED WHEN IM TAGGED IN SOMETHING AAAAA!

omg that took forever!!! Gosh i dont mind though!!! These were fun questions! Aaaaaaaa i enjoyed that tyty!

[ankhisms]

have surprised myself with how much ive been able to get done today altho i know ill be hit with exhuastion soon enough, rambling under the cut about things having mixed emotions but not all bad really

so my room in our house isnt really exactly my own room, its the room with the eletric box, water heater/softener closet, furnace filters, and the washer and dryer. its always been this way so im used to like not really ever having a space thats mine and mine alone but i wont get into that. anyway any time the seasons change (or often on my parents whim and never without any warning) we have to get to the water heater closet and the furnace filter so my room has to be torn apart to get to them. my bed is pushed up against the water heater closet so its like i sleep right next to a door so the bed has to be moved. anyway this is usually a very jarring and upsetting thing since it usually happens without warning or telling me and i have everything i own just moved without being told or warned. but today i decided to take agency in this and i was the one who moved the bed and moved all my things so my dad could get in and turn on the water so we can use the outside hose to water things.

ive been meaning to really deeply clean and sort like, everything i have and everything in my room for probably half a year now and to see what i might want to give away/keep and reorrange things and just like take stock of things for the HOPEFUL future where i can move out and be having my real own space yknow. i finally started this process and it felt good to get everything down and to really deeply dust, ive also been meaning to properly wash old stuffed animals of mine bc i love my stuffed animals dearly but some of the ones i had when i was younger are very clearly showing their age so i looked up tips and instructions on hand washing old stuffed animals and i tested it out on two ones that dont mean as much to me to see if it goes ok before trying to wash ones that i absolutely dont want to ruin and it went well! i definitely can feel myself starting to get tired and having more pain as i write this but im still happy with how much i cleaned and sorted along with washing my sheets/pillows/blankets

the thing that makes me have mixed emotions is that what ive also been meaning to do is.... take down and get rid of the things that were drawn by/given to me by the old long term friend who just suddenly cut me off with no warning or explanation and then only messaged me one more to weirdly say "well im hanging out with my new friends and theyre so cool and great" and not responding to me begging him to tell me what was going on or if i had done anything wrong and wanting to talk things out. we were long distance internet friends for over 10 years so i have a lot of drawings and books hed given me and i didnt really get to taking down a lot of drawings but i sorted through one book in particular, he used to do this thing where hed give me a comic book and hed put in sticky notes in a lot of pages with his thoughts on them. so i went through the pages and took out all the sticky notes one at a time since i want to give the comic book to someone i know will like it. and it was a very... weird feeling. taking them all out. i had read the notes and the book when he first gave it to me but now reading them it felt like.. more bitter than sweet but there was still sweetness there. i recognize looking back that i had rose tinted glasses on for the majority of our relationship and it was probably more toxic than i realized and i often blamed myself for harmful things he did. not at all saying hes a bad person or anything btw i just think we both were very damaged kids from abusive homes and i was probably toxic in ways i didnt realize as well im not without blame here but its weird to realize that our friendship wasnt as healthy as i thought it was. but reading those notes as i took them out it was like... he wrote these at a time where i know he loved me and considered me his close friend and i felt the same. and i still love him. the love i have for anyone, especially a close friend, does not just disappear. it stays within me and is not wasted. but it certainly feels like a weight on my chest in this moment.. i keep thinking, what happened? what changed? he didnt even give me this book that many years ago, maybe three or four at the longest. what happened to make him decide to cut me off like that? i dont know, and i know im not going to get closure. so i just have to hold the love i still have and let it ache but then i have to let go and continue trying to live

i dont know how soon im going to have the opportunity and resources to be able to leave my home situation, its become increasingly obvious to me that its not something i can achieve on my own for a multitude of reasons, i know ill need help and i try to remind myself that im not alone in it and that its not impossible for me to get to a safe environment where i dont feel scared and like a cornered animal. for now i feel good about my decision to try and make my living space feel nicer for myself, although im aware that it never really feels like my own space nor does it ever fully feel safe i still am trying to make jt more comfortable for myself while im here and i feel proud of myself for that

anyway thanks if you read this all, i hope youre doing well mwah

[mafufuu]

hihi arte! 3, 17, 19, & 24 for the artist ask game?

hihihi ruya webe been on a call which is silly but i hope youre doing well rn !!

3. your favorite piece(s)?

as of now, my most favorite piece, off the top my head, is the greyscale thing i drew of lucia from tmk. i was messing around with brushes i had saved but never really used and the textures came out nice. i like the work i did on that canvas in general, i felt i got a good hold on her character. i tend to be happy with full body colored stuff i do of characters as of recent. most things i crank up the warmness on for a character and then slap a square bg on i tend to be more than satisfied with. same goes with playing around with brushes. fuuta trash and trash was a fun dabble in trying to recreate another style, and la maine de gloire i like for similar reasons. i hold a fondness for my deep cover william wisp redraw and we outta lightbulbs though that may just stem from a lot of attention on a pice that took a lot of effort

17. what is something youre confident about in your art?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhh i suppose my color choices and stylization. i like toning up the warmness + saturation and lowering the brightness of my art for a cozier feel and i like how it turns out. whenever i do contrast checks (literally just turning a piece to black and white to see if my values are good) the results are pretty good. i think most of the reason why im confident in my stylization is i just kinda like how it looks. some amount of the time i just do doodles that are just linework so i feel like ive gotten comfortable in how i translate things and i also tend to work from references. also ive been told my art style is quite unique and i feel that is the root of it

19. where do you find inspiration?

inspiration! this one is fun! at least for some amount of how i do(/did) eyes and how i color i draw from lavendertowne! her art is very cozy and nice looking, its cartoony but you can see anime influences in it. i think that's probably my main one. i also look up to drawing wiff waffles, she was the first artist i ever really became a fan of! whenever i do pick up alcohol markers (not much nowadays) i make sure to use a colored pencil for sketching. she's prolly also the reason i make sure to carry a kneaded eraser for traditional art. i like watching scott christian sava's videos. being an older artist with more life experience makes him sorta feel like the most mentor-y to me. also he's very nice and some amount active here. yunayuispink is who i mainly use for tutorials. their art style is simple but that is not to say its bad! the colors are nice and the linework is nice. i also like marikyuun's art. her use of linewidth and colored lines makes her work very merchandise-esque as she says. i own a couple studio ghibli art books that i should probably be busting out more for references. their films are very pretty. i also like to take bits and bobs from my moots' art styles that i think are cool. for instance, i think the main reason i tend to gravitate toward thin messy lineart is @/not scorb on here. though i think mine tends to lean messier (or maybe moreso them doing it gave me the confidence to post art like that.) i also take influences from other anime/manga, vaguely, often to the point where i just kinda forget the names. there's probably more but this list is very long already so ill stop

24. whats a compliment about your art that has always stuck with you?

hm. im not really sure. it might be from my bad memory in all honesty but i feel like most of the compliments ive gotten recently just tend to be a "great work!" which i dont mind or take for granted but its not really that descriptive, yknow? actually i remembered one. one time i drew different characters from a thing in chairs i thought suited them (lore rise) sitting based upon their character and i remember someone told me i was talented from the way i portrayed my personalities from how they sit. it really stuck for some reason, i dont know why actually. also being told my art is unique when i was asking my sib to describe my art style bcuz i didnt really know how. it just felt nice to know it was really something that felt like mine !

thank you for the ask !! have a nice rest of your whatever

[notjusthespongenextdoor]

ive been thinking about this lately in terms of a related phenomenon which is like, people lowering their standards for someone, and feeling obligated to excuse behaviors that bother them, just because the other person has some sort of disability or neurodivergence or something like that.

and like, there is something that is similar to this that is actually a good thing to do -- for example, maybe someone talks to themself a lot, and your first instinct is 'oh that's weird and makes me uncomfortable,' but after a bit of thought you realize that the only reason it makes you uncomfortable is because it's categorized as 'socially abnormal,' and you actually don't mind it at all. this is great, and opens up an opportunity to be friends with this person who you might get along with really well and enjoy being around now that you've pushed aside your initial instinct of 'oh that's weird.'

but there's another way to do this that i think unfortunately happens quite often, which is you have the instinct of 'that's weird and makes me uncomfortable,' you realize that's an ableist form of thinking, and you automatically correct yourself and say 'no, it's ableist to be made uncomfortable by that! i have to be cool with it!' and so you feel obligated to accept this behavior. this might turn out okay, but it's also possible the behavior bothers you for a completely different reason that it being 'weird.' maybe you don't hear well and are never sure if that person is talking to themself or you and it leads to a lot of awkward interactions. maybe you just really can't stand the constant background noise of someone muttering. and in this case, if the behavior really does bother you, but you feel like you're not "allowed" to dislike it, you may end up in a situation where you're "friends" with someone who you actually don't enjoy being around that much.

and while that might feel like a "good" thing to do in a way, that is actually really patronizing behavior and will probably end up really hurting this person's feelings once they find out that's how you feel. you may unconsciously be thinking, well, no is really going to like this person, so it's important for me to try to like them, which ignores the fact that there are plenty of people who would really genuinely enjoy being friends with this person and they don't need your pity friendship. and, additionally, it might be possible that you could genuinely enjoy being around this person if you stepped up and kindly asked if it would be possible to change their behavior--not because they are doing something wrong, but because you have a reaction to it that is uncomfortable for you.

and yes, this can be very difficult, because it's possible, probable even, that this person has been told to stop doing the "weird" thing just because it's "weird," and will hear what you're saying as "you're being weird and need to stop" rather than "i'm trying to find a way to make this relationship work better for both of us, because I want to continue being friends with you." it is possible they will take it that way no matter how you phrase it, in which case it might not be possible for the two of you to have a good relationship together. this happens to everyone every once in a while, and it's still not a reason to continue on a pity friendship with someone.

and yeah, it's hard to draw those boundaries for all sorts of reasons. but you have to try, because no matter what your or their intentions are, letting someone cross your boundaries constantly will lead to a really terrible relationship, and neither of you deserve that. so you gotta try.

Yep, I wanted a long term relationship with her and dreamed of her for 8 years after and I'm pretty sure I was a third category friend to her.

[kellystar321]

here we go again~!

[reidsnose]

doodles

overview: reader doodles on her hands a lot and spencer has to give into the temptation of coloring it in

genre: flufffffff

a/n: sorry ive havent posted a fic in like a week, ive been in quite a slump but i had this idea well after midnight but i just had to write it so lmk what u guys think of this one :)

masterlist

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doodling on your hands: a once nervous habit that had seeped into your everyday life and now is just a regular habit. nearly everyday you would come to work with clean hands and get home with a mini art gallery on your non dominant one.

Spencer admired this from the moment he noticed it. at first he thought you had a tattoo but when you came back the next day with it completely gone, he was a tad confused, only to catch you doodling on that very same hand a couple hours later on the jet. he thought maybe it was an occasional thing, a habit you'd quit once you got better situated into the team, but after nearly a year you still left work almost everyday with some cutesy sketches drawn on your hand.

Spencer found himself looking forward to your doodles, imagining in his head what you might draw each day, and thinking of all the colors you would add if you had the time. being the great profiler that he is, he noticed a pattern: you subconsciously correlated your doodles with your mood.

after especially hard cases or just bad days you always drew roses.

when you were very happy you drew all sorts of fruits.

anxiousness bore little swampy creatures and lily pads.

tired days filled your hands with random, intricate designs that you didn't even have to try hard to make.

and content was anything else.

he was so impressed and absolutely adored your little coping mechanism. watching you concentrate on making those teeny pieces of art simply for your own pleasure was definitely a sight to see. the way your eyebrows furrowed and tongue poked out a bit was absolutely positively adorable. and soon he had noticed that he was looking forward less to the doodles and more to watching you draw them. and after that he began looking forward to just you.

you were sat on the jet with your back to the corner of the last seat on the plane, creating a pattern of roses on the back of your hand. Spencer plopped down in the seat next to you, growing tired of watching from so far away.

"that bad, huh?" he asked, noticing the type of flower you were gracing your hand with.

"hm?" you looked up, confused.

"you only doodle roses on bad days." he explained, pointing to your hand.

"what? no i don't!" you defended, " i just think roses are neat."

to be fair, you were having a bad day but he could've profiled that without the doodle. he cant be right, can he? there was no way you had a mood system for your doodles! unless there was.

"repetitive strokes are therapeutic, so roses being rough days make sense. the spiral in the middle followed by however many layered petals you want is a perfectly repetitive while still interesting enough to doodle."

"if i didn't know any better i'd say you've been spying on me, Dr. Reid," you teased, enjoying the slight rouge that appeared on his cheeks.

"what! no! i'm- i'm a profiler i notice patterns! i just- spying sounds creepy." he stammered.

"ok. how about admiring." you jabbed, turning a little red yourself.

"fine. but you know coloring helps too." he flipped back to the old topic of conversation.

"unfortunately i only have the standard blue, black and red ink."

"roses are red." he chuckled.

"interesting point," you bent down and reached into your bag, pulling out a red pen and handing it to him, "knock yourself out."

"what?" he looked at you slightly bewildered.

"coloring is therapeutic, you said it yourself. and you and i both know that you need something to relax you after a case like that. we all do." you explained, trying to be as nonchalant as you could knowing his skin would touch yours.

he grabbed the pen and clicked it open, coloring smoothly and slowly inside the lines you had already made in black, careful not to go over them and smudge the ink. you and him both tried your best to ignore the warmth shooting through your bodies from every place your hands touched. his fingertips lightly grazing your knuckles as he worked.you worked your way up your arm, giving you both space to work and by the time you landed, you had a half sleeve garden of surprisingly well colored (and somehow shaded) red roses.

you went home that night and bought a pack of colorful (washable) pens, hoping this little rose garden with him wasn't a one time thing. and even if it was, you would want to add your own pop of color to your doodles.

thankfully it wasn't.

you and Spencer found yourselves drawing and coloring on your hand a lot. he would catch you doing it and pop in over your shoulder just to add a touch of color where he thought it fit. and you began to feel sad washing off what the two of you had created that day, feeling nostalgic for time that has hardly passed.

and sometimes on the jet you would get tired of your own skin, so you would draw little doodles on his hand, often times leaving a little heart at the base of his thumb. these little hearts he avoided washing off for as long as he possibly could because they felt like a part of you was always with him. he started doing the same thing to your hand, a sort of signature the two of you shared.

most days, the doodles on your hands were pretty much fully colored in.

but now Spencer began to worry. what if you get ink poisoning because of his coloring? sure, the risk was statistically low, improbable even; but never zero. so one night after work he went out and bought a little sketchbook and on the front he scrawled,

"y/n's super duper special sketchbook"

upon receiving it, after giving him a hug he never wanted to let go of, you took a sharpie and started editing the title he had given it. so it now read:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook"

the two of you used up a whole page that day, front and back filled with all types of fruits. Spencer smiled to himself, knowing this had made you very happy. you took a second to take a step back and admire him doing the very thing he admired you for. and you understood why; he just looked so precious and you suddenly realized you craved the feeling of his hand touching yours. so you leaned over and drew a little black heart at the base of his thumb. he looked up at you, smiling widely before returning a red heart to the base of your thumb.

and you guys tore through that book, using a page a day and filling it cover to cover in no time. your own personal handmade coloring book. it turned out to be both of your most prized possessions, a pang of sadness filling your chests as you finished the last page.

you felt bad taking it home with you that night, wondering if maybe Spencer wanted to keep it. maybe you should keep it at work so you can both have it. thats the fair thing to do. you looked down, smiling sadly at the little red heart on your hand.

he did want to keep it. but he had a better idea in mind. he looked down, smiling excitedly at the little black heart on his hand.

the next day when you arrived to work all your worries were solved. on your desk laid a new sketch book entitled:

"y/n and Spencer's super duper special sketchbook: volume ii"

you laughed as you read a small lilac post it note that said, "i want to keep this one please" signed with a little red heart in the corner.

-

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ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9 @vampire-overlord @takeyourleap-of-faith @s1utformgg @violetspoetic

[giorno-plays-piano]

Vicious

Part VI

Pairing: Steve x reader, Bucky x reader, Thor x reader, Loki x reader, Peter x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, stalking, possessiveness, theft, mention of blackmail, all characters are adults.

Words: 1567.

Summary: Transferring to Stark Academy that has only allowed to take in female students last semester, you realize you are just one of three young women among hundreds of students. Your things are constantly being stolen, and soon you begin fearing for your safety.

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV

Part V

________

You spent the rest of your evening like a somnambulist, barely able to concentrate on your projects before you went to bed, barely finishing half of the things you planned for today. Even the change of locks didn't make you as happy as you thought it would. It felt like something between a dream and a nightmare.

Lying in the dark, you stared at the ceiling, thinking of what happened just a couple of hours ago. Why did he do it? Was it just out of habit and didn’t mean anything? Naturally, with his appearance and easy-going attitude, he probably dated many girls and didn’t think much before kissing someone he liked.

Remembering the way he talked to you in the morning, you thought he must have pretended to be shy around you. Thor certainly wasn’t sheepish.

Was it all a sham? Was Loki right about all of them, playing their roles to get close to you? You couldn’t forget the way Thor looked the moment he told you about being smart. It was like something switched inside him, and for a second you saw the real Thor who was far from being your simple, good-natured athlete.

Why did you keep thinking about that stupid kiss even after seeing the man could be dangerous?

Aroused and angry, you tossed and turned until you fell asleep.

____________

Waking up was especially tough, despite the fact you didn't really do much yesterday, meaning you were going to spend your weekend studying. Shoot, and that's when you planned to visit that new chocolate boutique in the city. Maybe you could still make it if you spent more time studying today?

But then again, going to the city alone might be a bad idea. Even if the guys who stole your things were beaten, it didn't mean it had always been the same people following you. The school was full of weirdos, in the end. What if somebody went after you? Steve would definitely say you had to bring one of your guards with you.

Damn. It was better staying in the dorm then.

"Good morning! Are you ready?" Peter's voice broke through the silence, and you flinched, hurriedly applying some lipstick because you didn't have enough time to put your makeup properly.

Well, at least you were fully dressed.

"Just give me a second!" Picking up your bag, you put your shoes on and opened the door, looking at a young guy who's face was lit up like a Christmas tree. "Hi!"

He definitely liked what he saw, and you felt your cheeks growing hot from embarrassment. From the very start of the semester Peter acted very sweet around you, and you thought you could be friends with him. He wouldn't do something as ugly as blackmailing, would he? Thor said it too. Clearly, Steve was exaggerating.

"Did you sleep well? I've heard you changed your lock, so now it'll be better."

"Ugh, I hope so. But I still sleep with my dresser blocking the door." Sighing, started walking, afraid to look in the faces of other students, hurrying off to school.

They must have been disgusted, watching you being friendly with one guy after being all lovey-dovey with the other just yesterday. Although you didn't see anyone in particular, you were sure somebody saw Thor kissing you. And now you were walking the corridors with Peter.

"By the way, what's your Insta?"

What? Your Instagram? Whatever for? Although you had no idea why he needed it, you let him add you, by the time leaving the dorm and walking towards the main building.

Suddenly, Peter got pretty close, his arm on your waist as he lifted up his phone and hummed, "Look here and smile!"

Before you realized what he was doing, the boy kissed your temple, and you heard the sound of a photo being taken by his front-facing camera. What the Hell?!

"Peter!" Pissed at him, you quickly break free and stepped back, but he was already looking at his phone, editing the photo and posting it almost immediately.

You heard your phone buzz when he marked you on the photo.

"That's a good one. You look very cute here."

"What are you doing?!"

"Making a proof we're dating, of course?"

You were taken aback by the sincerity in his voice, and Peter smiled from ear to ear like an excited teenager, showing you the picture: it wasn't that bad, and you looked as if you were slightly embarrassed by Peter's closeness. Oh, of course. He had to convince his friends he was dating you, but he didn't kiss you on the lips that could make other people too suspicious. Instead, friends of Barnes or, say, Thor, would still think it was all for show, and it was their friend who dated you for real.

Shit, Steve's plan was incredibly complicated, and you didn't like it at all.

"Oh, alright." You mumbled, lowering your eyes to the ground, and Peter laughed.

"We'll make a TikTok dance later. If you wanna make people talk, just use your social media." He winked at you and put the phone in the pocket of his pants, resuming walking, and you moved along, your face still hot.

God, what did these guys got you into? You felt like you were lost in the middle of a play, not even having a script to read what was your role in all this.

Before you parted your ways, going to a different classrooms, Peter talked about videogames, the upcoming Resident Evil - apparently, his favorite franchise - and some Dota tournament, but you didn't know much about it, and Peter offered to show you his favorite games "because you can't spend all your time studying!"

He was as careless and sweet as always, but you couldn't get Steve's words out of your mind. Damn, if only you could know for sure that Peter didn't blackmail anyone. Who could you talk to about it? Obviously, not Peter himself, but every time he spoke you had that nagging feeling you needed to talk to him. You barely kept your mouth shut before he went to a different room.

Ugh, why didn't you transfer anywhere else when you still had a chance? Obviously, now you could only drop out of school, and it definitely wasn't something you were going to do.

Luckily, the next couple of hours you were busy with your classes, trying your best to prepare for the upcoming exams. The academy held high standards, and even though you were a good student, it still took lots of efforts to keep up the good work. How Thor even managed to get enrolled, judging by the fact he hated studying and often skipped classes?

Ah yes, he mentioned something about getting a scholarship from the academy for his success in the sport.

By the lunch time you were drained, listening to Peter chatting with an absent-mindedly epxression on your face. Funny enough, Peter's grades were better than yours, even though he spent much less time studying. What, was he some genius like Loki? You felt a little envy.

"I gotta go take my tracksuit, I have PE next," the boy said, and you nodded, throwing away the leftovers of your lunch.

As you stood close while he grabbed his sportclothes, you heard two guys talking behind the lockers to your right.

"Have you seen her today? She's with Parker!"

You tensed immediately. Of course, they were talking about you.

"Yeah, so what?"

"She was with Thor yesterday!"

Watching you froze on the spot, Peter stilled too, listening carefully. Oh shit, you hoped no one cared about who you went with - why should they, in the end - but, apparently, you were drawing too much attention simply because you were a girl among hundreds of male students.

"So what?" The other guy asked impatiently, growing tired of this conversation.

"Are you stupid? She's going out with them! I bet she's looking for a guy." The first student said with excitement, and you cringed. No, you weren't going out with anyone, you wanted to stop the weirdos from following you and steeling your things. Was it too much to ask?

"Yeah, who cares?"

"We have three fucking girls in the whole school, and you don't care if one of them could be going out with you? Besides, this one's pretty. I'd fuck her!"

You felt like you were going to puke any moment. Why on Earth did you decide to transfer to an all-boys school? It was like the whole school were a men’s room filled with stupid-ass guys, and you were locked inside, forced to listen them talk junk.

"You'd fuck a sheep, weirdo. Go get yourself a girlfriend if you can’t stop thinking with your dick.”

Laughing, the guy left, and his friend followed him, shouting something stupid while you breathed out a sigh of relief. Of course, you knew there would be some talk, but you didn’t expect it to be so... gross. Were you really gonna spend the two remaining years here?

Watching you getting frustrated, Peter gently touched you by the arm and said softly, “Don’t worry. They won’t talk rubbish about you.”

“What do you mean?” Suddenly thinking of Steve’s words, you blurted out exactly what you were thinking of the whole day, “Are you going to blackmail them with something?”

“I... what?”

Part VII

__________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki   ​@helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin ​@inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherub @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster @biiskuitx @stupendouslovegardener @iheartsebandchris @lovelydarkdaydream @soleil-dor @illyrianprincess @vampirestrawberries @goodgodimaweirdperson @frontmanash @freya-heya @yandematic @mariatietacapitu @d3monslust @maybesandohnos @ibeatuptwinks @mangobangi

[asweetprologue]

me lámh le do lámh - Part IV

First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

They spent a few days in Oxenfurt, mostly for Jaskier’s benefit. The bard hadn’t been lying when he’d said he wasn’t prepared to head out. There was packing to be done, his rooms to see to, appointments to cancel with the university. Geralt was happy enough to wait. It wasn’t strictly a hardship to spend some time lounging in Jaskier’s rooms and wandering the university gardens during the day before following Jaskier to whatever tavern or hall he was to play at for the evening. Jaskier was away for the better part of most days, but Geralt moved his things to Jaskier’s rooms after the first night at the inn. Waking well before Jaskier in the same bed, he was greeted each morning to Jaskier’s arm slung across his chest, warm and comfortable in the predawn silence. His cheeks would be ruddy with sleep and their shared heat under the blankets, his hair flattened awkwardly to his skull where it had been pressed to the pillow.

He’d missed this. After months without Jaskier’s presence, it felt like he was drowning in it, shocked by the strength of his own reaction. With the golden light of the morning sun shining through Jaskier’s one window to fall softly across his brow and pick out the silver strands in his hair, Geralt wondered at how he could have ever misplaced this feeling in his chest. He loved him. He wanted to preserve each moment in fine amber, never to fade.

But finally Jaskier was finished making his arrangements, and they were able to set out from Oxenfurt towards their first destination. It would take them several weeks to collect the components that Ida had mentioned—weeks that Geralt would have to spend dancing around the subject of the ritual and its origins, as well as his traitorous heart. As he caught Jaskier’s bright smile from up ahead as they crossed the Oxenfurt bridge, he hoped that he wasn’t making a terrible mistake.

*

“So where, exactly, are these mysterious elven ruins?”

Geralt grunted, both in answer and in exertion as he swung his sword through another clump of heavy brush, clearing the path. Roach waited patiently behind him, and Jaskier less so. He turned to look back at them both, finding Jaskier giving him an unimpressed look. Geralt forced down the urge to grumble again. “They’re close,” he said, taking Roach’s reins to lead her through the cleared bushes. The path that they were following was barely a deer trail in places, clearly unused for decades. There had been no sign thus far that the area had once been populated aside from the occasional flash of white brickwork that told Geralt they were on the right track.

“Oh, really,” said Jaskier, who had likely not noticed the brickwork, based on Geralt’s past experience with his observation skills. “You know what I think, Geralt? I think we’re lost in the woods in the middle of nowhere, a day away from the nearest hamlet, and we’re just as likely to find a wyvern den as an elven temple out here.”

“Wyverns don’t populate the lowlands,��� Geralt said automatically, kicking a large branch out of Roach’s path.

Jaskier made a strangled sound behind him that Geralt might call a growl if it had come from anyone else. “I know that, I was being hyperbolic, you ass. You’re avoiding the issue.”

“We’re on the right path.” Another glint of white stone caught his eye, this time the edge of an arch wrapped nearly over in vines and moss. Only fragments remained, large chunks blending in with the forest floor.

“As if you would admit it if you were lost,” Jaskier griped, shoving a branch out of his own way. “Remember that time near Spikeroog? We were lost in a boat for three days because you wouldn’t just admit that we went west for six hours—”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, and pushed aside the last of the foliage.

Jaskier fell silent, and they both looked beyond the treeline into the clearing Geralt had revealed. Before them rose a silent, crumbling stone structure, pale as a ghost against the dark lines of the trees in the afternoon light. Much of its surface had been reclaimed already by the forest, but enough of it poked through to give a general sense of scale. It towered at least two stories above them, though the edges were uneven in a way that suggested it once may have been higher. The front facade rose in a flat wall before them, pierced by a line of arches, their edges decorated in fading but intricate reliefs. Here and there along the line of what had once been the path leading to the central arch, the occasional protrusion of a column could be seen. The path beyond the central arch was shadowed, too dark for even Geralt to see past after so long in the daylight.

Jaskier stepped forward into the narrow clearing, and Geralt followed. Wordlessly, Jaskier raised a hand to trail along the remnants of a low, circular stone wall, perhaps the remnants of an ancient well. When he looked up at Geralt, his eyes shone, two pieces of midday sky in the murky shade of the forest. “I stand corrected,” he said, offering Geralt a giddy grin.

Geralt shook his head with a small smile, drawing Roach further into the clearing. “Let’s set up camp here. You can explore when we have someplace to sleep.”

Jaskier agreed eagerly and they both launched into the process of setting up camp. They fell easily back into old patterns, Jaskier slotting seamlessly into Geralt’s routine. It was always easier to set up and break down camp when the bard was around, though Geralt thought it had very little to do with splitting the work halfway.

Within half an hour they had created a comfortable camp in the clearing and Geralt had Roach tended to, and they both stood before the dark archway into the ruins.

Jaskier hesitated over the threshold, his excitement over the history of the place apparently conceding to nerves. “Well, ah. After you, witcher,” he said, holding out an arm as if holding an imaginary door for Geralt to walk through.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped into the small hall beyond the archway, blinking a few times to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. “Come on, bard,” he called over his shoulder, amusement and affection swelling in his chest as he heard Jaskier mutter and quick footsteps follow after him.

The hall ended in a flight of stairs leading down, and they had to pause to light a torch when Jaskier ran directly into Geralt’s back and nearly knocked them both down it. A quick burst of igni had firelight dancing across the smooth white stones as they descended into the ruins.

Elves, Geralt had found, rarely built up. Though their cities had towered in ages past, their true magnificence had always lain below ground. The complex that they made their way down into was labyrinthian, huge open hallways with dozens of rooms and offshoots, archways that looked in on underground courtyards with pierced ceilings that let in the daylight, huge caverns expertly carved into cathedrals. Jaskier quickly brought out a bit of charcoal he often used for taking notes or sketching and began to mark their way with arrows pointing back the way they’d come, so they might not be hopelessly lost in the ruins. Geralt led them mostly by smell, at first; Triss had mentioned that any ritual chambers would likely be on the lower levels, as they were considered private and upper floors were generally public. He followed the cool, chalky scent of wet stone deeper into the ruins, down ramps and stairways until they were all but buried in the earth.

“I never knew the true breadth of them,” Jaskier breathed at one point, as they made their way down a winding spiral staircase that curved along what seemed like a natural cave shaft. “I’ve read, of course, about the scale of the old elven kingdoms, but it’s different to see it all. We’ve been walking for hours already and I feel as if there’s still miles to be seen.”

“Maybe not miles,” Geralt said, keeping one ear out for potential movement and one on Jaskier’s footsteps on the slick stone steps. “One’s I’ve been to before are usually somewhere around five and fifteen levels. We’re getting close to the bottom.”

Jaskier hummed in acknowledgment. “You could take an entire lifetime to study this place. Why hasn’t anyone surveyed it? How do you know the thing you're after for this ritual hasn’t already been taken?”

At that moment Geralt heard a gentle click, and he reached up just in time to pluck the arrow from the air as it hissed past his ear and towards Jaskier’s head. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder, finding Jaskier wide eyed behind him. Looking meaningfully down at Jaskier’s foot, he jerked his chin up.

Jaskier lifted up his foot, and the click of a pressure plate resetting filled the narrow space.

“That’s how,” Geralt said, tossing the arrow to the side.

“Of course,” Jaskier said weakly. “Of course the place is booby trapped.”

“And haunted probably,” Geralt agreed, continuing down the stairs. “Stay close. Wouldn’t want you to die before I can make you immortal.” The words were said as much in jest as he could make them, but he felt a brief strum of anxiety all the same.

Jaskier huffed in annoyance, but Geralt could feel him press even closer. He ignored the way that the air between them seemed to heat, the soothing warmth of Jaskier’s presence pressing back the dark more efficiently than any torch.

*

“Look,” Jaskier’s voice came from behind him. Geralt turned around to see Jaskier rubbing at a patch of the wall in the hall they were currently trekking through, the ancient slabs of stone crumbling a bit at his touch. “There’s writing here.”

Geralt stepped up next to him, feeling Jaskier’s warmth radiating along his side. Forcing himself to ignore the proximity, he leaned in to peer at the wall. “Elder, looks like. Can’t make it out.”

“It looks like one of the early northern dialects, closer to Laith aen Undod.” Jaskier scrambled in his small pack and pulled out his bit of charcoal and his notebook, handing the torch off to Geralt. Accepting the light, Geralt frowned at Jaskier as he made a few quick lines on the paper, referring back to the wall a few times. His tongue poked just barely out between his lips, as it always did when he was concentrating. After a moment he stood up straight, leaning towards the light to examine his own markings.

“Can you read that?” Geralt asked, genuinely surprised. He was fairly well versed in Elder, but his knowledge was more practical, learned from his interactions with the Scoia’tael and learning the Signs. The One Speech was well beyond his understanding, not to mention the various ancient dialects of Elder.

“Mm, I’m better at reading Elder than I am at speaking it, I’m afraid. Academic knowledge. Have to be able to translate the old poems and stories, after all.” He flashed Geralt a grin, the laugh lines deepening around his eyes. They sparkled in the light of the torch, turning the blue silver-gold. Geralt’s breath caught in his throat.

When Geralt didn’t respond quickly enough, Jaskier turned back to the notes he’d made on the paper. He muttered a few things to himself in Elder, the words sounding oddly musical—as if he’d learned to pronounce the language through song, which he probably had. Finally he scribbled a few notes in Common. “I think it’s a road sign, of sorts,” Jaskier said slowly. His tone took on the particular quality that Geralt had come to recognize as his “professor voice” over the years. He’d always found it rather amusing. “This complex must have been big enough to necessitate passage markers. See the sideways arrowhead under the top line? It says—well, I’m not sure, but I know the root has to do with the evening meal, so I’d guess it’s pointing to some kind of tavern or dining hall. And this one just says ‘sanctuary,’ I think. That’s a weird one, that symbol in more modern Elder just means ‘place’ but there’s a prefix here that adds a sort of defensive quality to it. Maybe ‘protected place’?” Jaskier frowned down at his own work. Already he had somehow managed to smudge charcoal across his cheek.

“Might be right,” Geralt grunted, impressed. “Triss said it would be in a safe place. ‘Ionad chosanta.’”

Jaskier hummed thoughtfully. “Could be as good a translation as any.”

“Better than wandering around,” Geralt shrugged, and turned towards the hall the arrow pointed towards. Before stepping into the darkness, he paused, looking back at Jaskier. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he reached up and rubbed away the charcoal on Jaskier’s cheekbone. The sweep of his thumb pushed back the soot and revealed the pale skin underneath, still so soft even after so many years spent traveling out in the elements. That skin care regiment Jaskier was always going on about must be worth something, he thought faintly.

Jaskier was silent, staring at him with an expression that reminded Geralt of a hare staring down the point of an arrow. Clearing his throat briefly, Geralt let his hand fall and said, “Thanks. For the… You did good.”

Even in the dim light, Geralt could see the flush that lit up Jaskier’s face at that, spilling prettily over his cheekbones. He gaped at Geralt for a moment before his mouth snapped closed with a near audible clack. Geralt expected a witty rejoinder of some kind, perhaps a jab at his historical inability to offer praise. He knew he deserved it, even if Jaskier meant it in anger rather than jest. Raising Ciri had taught him the value of voicing his appreciation and affection for others, even if he still struggled for the right words to do so. Yennefer had painstakingly beat it into his head. Ciri hadn’t known that he cared unless he said so, and so he had no other alternatives. Looking at Jaskier gaping at him, he wondered how many times Jaskier had assumed that Geralt cared little for him for lack of a kind word. His chest hurt at the thought.

After long enough that the silence had grown heavy and awkward, Jaskier coughed lightly, ducking to hide his expression. The ribbing Geralt had prepared himself for did not come. “Not a problem,” was all Jaskier said, brushing past him. “Let’s get a move on, yes? Don’t want the torch to run low.”

Geralt stared after him for a moment before shaking his head and following.

*

The shrine, when they found it, was hidden behind a thick patch of rubble that Geralt had to blast out of the way with a few precise applications of aard. He slipped inside first, sliding through the small opening in the stone and landing lightly on the other side. His eyes adjusted quickly to the gloom, to his surprise, and he realized that there were several glowing crystals embedded in the walls around him at even intervals. There came the sound of cascading stones and a low curse from behind him, and he turned in time to catch Jaskier’s elbow before the bard fell flat on his face.

“Ah, thank you, dear witcher,” Jaskier huffed, reaching up to fruitlessly brush the dust from his jacket. Looking up, he halted in his motions, taking in the room around them in its soft, ethereal light. “Oh,” he breathed.

It was indeed beautiful, even in its decaying state. Like everything in the tunnels, the structures were unmistakably elven, but even so they appeared alien to Geralt’s eyes. The walls were covered in delicate mosaic work, in patterns that danced in the flickering light of their torch and that of the crystals. The center of the room was dominated by a blank circle of unmarked stone, with Elder runes engraved along the edge that Geralt could not even begin to decipher. The circle was framed by a delicate canopy of carved white stone, supported on four pillars of the same material. The carvings were so minute that for a moment Geralt thought the entire structure might be built not of stone, but of some sort of webbing or silk. It was delicate enough to be blown glass, but when he set his hand against one of the pillars it was as unforgiving as a mountainside.

Jaskier ran his fingers along one of the walls, tracing a twist in the tiny shards of colored glass. “It’s beautiful,” he said, voice pitched low.

“Triss said these places were sacred to the Aes Sidhe. They mark where the elves first arrived,” Geralt said. He found his own gaze drawn back to the center of the unmarked circle beneath the canopy. “Here.”

Set into the very center of the stone circle was a small depression, no larger than Geralt’s palm. He stepped into the circle and knelt down, peering at it. Within the shallow bowl formed by the carved out floor sat an oval stone, maybe three inches long at its widest point. Drawing out his trophy knife, Geralt set the edge of it against the lip of the facet and twisted it. It popped out surprisingly easily, as if it was meant to be removed by design.

Jaskier hovered behind him as Geralt picked up the gaes carraigh. It was cool against his fingers, made of a translucent white stone that became more opaque at the edges. The center was nearly see-through, and when Geralt held it up the light played oddly in its depths. His medallion hummed faintly against his chest, warning him of the presence of magic. “Is that it?” Jaskier asked, resting one of his hands on Geralt’s shoulder to lean in closer.

“Think so,” Geralt replied, trying to ignore the weight of Jaskier pressed against him.

“What exactly does it do?” Jaskier reached out his free hand to press a finger against the center of the stone, curious as always. Geralt allowed it, and forced himself not to flinch when their fingers brushed incidentally. He could feel his ears warm regardless.

“It… binds the words of the ritual, or something. I didn’t ask.”

“Gaes carraigh… promise rock?” Jaskier tried, dropping to lean his full elbow on Geralt’s shoulder, casually slotting their forms together. His fingers barely brushed against Geralt’s collarbone, and he took a slow breath to maintain control over his heartbeat. Suddenly the proximity was overwhelming. Here they were, in a sacred space where possibly dozens of couples had made their vows to each other, fingers both lingering over the stone that would bind their oaths. In another life, perhaps they could have had something like this—Jaskier resplendent in the light of the blue crystals, eyes shining, looking at Geralt with adoration as they made their promises to each other. He would want to dress up, like he always did for a big event, but this time it would be only for himself and Geralt. Would he dress in blue? Or perhaps black, a witcher’s color, his pale skin like moonlight against the night sky. Would he wear a crown of periwinkle and sage, as was the northern custom? He would lean in close, like he was now, and murmur his vows to Geralt in words that flowed as smooth as a song.

He hadn’t known it was possible to want something so badly it was like a physical ache. Geralt was a witcher; he did not allow himself to think on things he couldn’t have. But here in this place, with Jaskier so close and yet so far away, the force of his desire felt oppressive. Jaskier didn’t know what any of this meant, and Geralt had no right to it, no right to want it. It was just a ritual. The context didn’t mean anything, because Jaskier would never feel that way about him.

After all, Geralt thought, looking down at the oathstone in his palm, who would want to marry a witcher?

Jaskier was still talking, and Geralt wrenched himself out of his thoughts when the arm on his shoulder pulled back and Jaskier patted the empty space once, as if in parting. “—probably get going, don’t you think? I do not relish the idea of being stuck here overnight. Not that I am not entirely confident in your abilities, darling, but I feel it’s best not to tempt fate when it comes to ghosts of ancient elven sages. Do you think they would count this as stealing? Probably. Anyways, I don’t want to find out what angry centuries old spirits do to trespassers.”

Geralt grunted, still gathering himself. He felt sluggish under the weight of his own emotions, pushing himself to his feet laboriously. The oathstone was heavy in his hand, and he slipped it into his potions pouch in the hope that it would feel less burdensome there. Without a word, he stood and exited the chamber the way they’d come, Jaskier fumbling after him.

[shattersstar]

evergreen

and if the devil was to ever see you, he’d kiss your eyes and repent (part four)

pairing: adrian tepes x reader

excerpt: You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

warning(s): brief injury mention, fluff, this is so,,hopelessly romantic, heart shape lockets making a reappearance

a/n: sorry ive only been writing for adrian my brain has been in alucard lockdown and it wont end (although this might be my favourite thing ive ever written so i’m..less sorry)

—

It was quiet, the distant din of the forest brushed over the two of you. It was a reminder of the life surrounding the desolate place you called home. Your eyes were closed as you focused on the sound, the breathing of trees and humming of streams. You supposed Adrian heard it all so clearly, the animals and plants alike all alive in the surrounding forest. You strained to hear the crunch of fallen leaves by foxes or snap of fallen branches by deers.

It was autumn and the world was alive with harvest. Animals prepared for winter, plants returned to the soil and tree lines morphed into flame. It was one of the last warm days, the sun high in the cloudy sky, shining onto the picnic you two had set up. You were laying down, letting the sun soak over your while Adrian sat cross legged behind you. Your head was in his lap, the book you were reading was resting on his thigh above your head, opened onto the page you were on. Adrian had brought a book as well, but discarded it after a few minutes of reading. It was out of date, he explained, the science was false and he decided to draw over the useless words instead.

You assumed there was some value in its history, but didn’t question it as he silently sketched. Adrian was always such an artist, often drawing you, or other’s he cared for. He could sketch Sypha and Trevor from memory, yet often butchered some detail of the latter for his own amusement you supposed. He drew his parents often too, but was quick to erase such images, as if even seeing their face was still too painful.

He had begun painting more recently. You liked sitting and working on something while he painted, catching occasionally glimpses at his work. Adrian was never shy about what he created, often showing you without prompting, and never dismissing your request to see his art. He had agreed he was good at it, the technical precision was there, but the heart was not. You were quick to disagree with such sentiment, and yes you could see it within the landscapes and dull memories he created on paper or canvas, but the love was there in the faces of those he cared for.

Each line he added to you, each bit of shading and highlight showcased you in a way that held more adoration than any words could supply. You liked seeing yourself from Adrian’s eyes, seeing your beauty as he perceived it. It was more flattering than anything anyone before him had said to you, not like Adrian would want to hear such things.

You weren’t sure how you knew he was watching, sketching you as you laid in his lap, but you knew he did. You even remained still, forgoing reading to be his muse for the last moments of fall. You didn’t mind getting to lay in the lap of the one you loved, a soft blanket underneath while the sun started to arch towards the west. You could’ve fallen asleep there, nature washing over you and Adrian watching over you. It was a place of peace, a moment you’d engrain into your mind and have a memento—a piece of art to show for it.

You only opened your eyes when Adrian let out an uncharacteristically loud sigh, he didn’t need to breathe, he only did so on his own volition. You peered up at him, sun dancing in his dark lashes. “What is plaguing you so beloved?” You hummed, tilting your head back more as you spoke.

"My chest, it aches.” He admitted with a soft voice. You sat up as his words registered in your ears, worry lacing your features as you moved to sit on your knees, beckoning him closer.

“Still? Why?” He turned his head to the side as your hand smoothed down his slender neck, brushing his collar aside and revealing the tip of the scar that cut diagonal through his torso. You kept your fingers off the injury, but untied the front of his shirt to reveal more of it.

“I am unsure, it just does some days.”

“This has happened before?”

“A few times, yes.” He sighed again, you felt it under your palm that rested next to the pink, raised skin.

“I wished you told me.”

“I did not wish to worry you.”

“And yet I am worried.” Adrian turned towards your other hand, resting on his shoulder and dipped his head down to kiss your wrist. It was a gesture of apology and you accepted it was you let your hand cup his face, lips pressing a kiss to your palm. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“I don’t think so.” You frowned, shifting your knees against the blanket. “And somehow I’m not surprised you aren’t pleased with that answer.”

“How can I be pleased when you, my dear, are living in pain?”

“Don’t be pleased then, be appeased.” Adrian shrugged, still speaking into your palm. You let your fingertips graze the edge of his scar before dropping both hands from him.

“If I must.” He chuckled at that, low and warm as your hands found his knees. You gave them a squeeze, almost to check if he still existed before turning, and placing yourself into his lap. You were careful not to lean into his chest, but Adrian eased you against it, his forearm wrapping around your stomach while his other hand brushed your book from his leg. “Now show me what you were drawing.”

“Of course beloved.” He hummed from behind you, picking up his green covered book and letting you flip through the drawings now masking the words. And you were right, many—most were of you.

A few trees, a tired outline of the castle, faces you didn’t know, but still somehow, every few pages was you, lounging in his lap, or from some other memory he stored away. They made you smile, less worried as warmth overtook you.

“Do you ever draw yourself?” You asked once you reached the last sketch, lingering on it.

“No, the image of myself in my mind changes far too often.”

“Oh?” You were surprised by Adrian’s answer, you expected something darker you supposed.

“I see myself one way, and then...I do not. I cannot draw what constantly changes.”

“Why does it change?”

“You.”

One syllable was more breathtaking than a single drawing he had ever done of you.

“Oh.” You found yourself on repeat, closing the book and letting out a slow breath.

“And I supposed other’s I’ve met, but mostly you.” It’s always you, he does not say despite how well it sits in his mouth.

You knew you had impacted Adrian, only a fool would say they didn’t, but to know that the way he constructed himself in his brain, how he felt when he thought of it, how he saw himself in his dreams, how he saw himself with you were all changed by you and how you loved him felt like a deeper proclamation than i love you.

“I still wish you would though, what am I supposed to put in this locket?” Your voice held an air of teasing, but a current of seriousness laced it as well.

“I could try, if you could like.”

You were silent for a moment, you didn’t want him to settle on a version of himself to etch into existence. Not when he was ever changing in his mind's eyes. “What if—“ You twisted carefully to look at him, noses brushing as you did. “What if you drew yourself from how I saw you?” You asked, wanting his art to convey his beauty as it did yours.

Adrian pondered it for a moment, before tilting his head and surprising your lips with his. “Yes.” He whispered against your mouth before finding his book yet again.

You slipped from his lap to give him space and studied him for a long moment. He didn’t shift under your gaze, or look away, but instead studied your back. You were grinning, running through all the most beautiful, fullest, dreamiest of adjectives to capture the face of your love. You tilted your head to the left, and he followed, the two of you grinning at each other with soft, soundless laughs. You closed your eyes for a moment, inhaling and blinking at him with a new found clarity, the words flowing effortlessly.

Serious mouth, something that hides smiles and fangs. Lips that slope into something heartbreaking—a smile like no other.

He grinned at that, eyes dropping to the page as he began drawing.

Soft eyes, set deep, but still shining. Sharp like daggers and holding handfuls of sunrays in them. Not cold with sadness, but heavy with it.

“Heavy with love too.” He hummed, earning a kiss on his forehead before you settled back to describing him.

Nose…

You paused your words, letting Adrian catch up to your lovely description, while you pondered on it too. You knew this was much for him, so much love filling his ears, outward and heedy. Yet it didn’t feel like enough, like it captured how much his appearances enraptured you, but as his heart did too. You wanted him to see your love through your eyes.

It was a daunting task, and yet you carried on. You reached out, brushing over his nose with your index finger, as if the words lived in your fingertips and could only be released by touch. You furrowed your brows, lips parting before you took Adrian’s hand, the one holding the book. He kept his gaze on you as you brought his slender fingers to his nose, tracing it as you did. You loved all Adrian’s features, but his nose especially, and no words could describe the beautiful feature that pulled his whole face together.

My favourite thing.

He let his attention fall back to the drawing, a bloodless blush could’ve warmed his face with the kind descriptions you imparted onto him. He knew you loved him, you proclaimed it enough, but the sweet words that overtook this dimming autumn day were even more dizzying than he expected. And you weren’t done yet, unrelenting in your words and adoration for him.

Sharp contours—jaw, cheekbones—with an underlying kindness, youthful softness to the angular curves.

Beautiful forehead, my favourite place to kiss. And press myself to.

Brows low, very precise—too serious most of the time.

Hairline like the ocean, framing the sand and sometimes sweeping over it.

You twirled the forever loose curl that hung forward, always draping against his smooth skin. He wanted to lean into your touch, but his attention was on the page.

Hair long, softer than any silk. Golden—not like honey, but wheat fields blowing in the breeze. And thick, with lazy waves throughout it.

You stayed quiet after that, hoping it was enough. You were all warm throughout now, despite how the evening had fallen over you two. You wanted to climb back into Adrian’s lap, but instead you moved to sit cross legged, toying with a loose thread on his pants, twisting the string from the seam by his knee around your finger until his shoulders dropped and the pen stopped moving.

You let your hands rest in your lap, and you watched him study it for a long moment. You wanted to ask if it was okay—some version of him he could agree with, yet he brought the pen back, scrawling something in his tight, professional handwriting and tearing the page from the book with precision.

The drawing took up one corner, the words printed in the background barely noticeable to the bust drawn over them. He folded the piece of paper, once, then twice. A tiny square sitting in his palm, before Adrian finally met your gaze. He reached out, cool fingertips grazing over your neck as he brought your heart shaped locket to sit in his other palm. He used his thumb to open it, placing the piece of paper inside and closing it again.

He kissed the smooth metal before letting it fall back against your sternum, smiling with a haziness that made you feel drunk of love as well. You took his hand in yours, Adrian quick to intertwine fingers before you could settle your palm to his. He urged you closer, uncrossing his legs and letting you take up space between them. “Do you feel better?” You hummed, the pain that had overcome him before not leaving your mind.

It wasn’t like you to forget so easily.

“Hm, better? Yes.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of your nose.

“Are you just saying that?”

“No, of course not.”

“I find that hard to believe, you often dwell in pain my dear. Especially alone.”

“I know,” He sighed yet again, bringing his free hand to your chin and drawing your attention to him. “If you’d like, I believe I have found a way that you can help, make me feel better.”

“Yes, what is it?”

He smiled—heartbreakingly. “Marry me?”

For a quiet beat, you paused, the words reaching your ears, settling in your short term memory before they processed into something that rang forever in your head. You and Adrian had talked about marriage, he had settled on the notion it was a frivolous display and he had everything he needed with you. And you agreed. He was everything you needed.

And now, he needed to be your husband.

You tucked some of his hair behind his ear, leaning in with a low voice, “My love, don’t you know?” You asked, blinking up with a slanted grin, “I’ve been married to you from the moment we met.” He breathed out a chuckle, reedy and low.

“Then,” His palms cupped your cheeks, forehead pressing into yours. “Let me marry you.”

“Yes,” You breathed into him, “Yes you can marry me.”

-

It was the first day of winter when you finally opened your locket. You unfolded his drawing carefully, the likeness you wanted to convey hung in every inked line. Your fiancé existed in both your hearts now.

Your fingers brushed over the words, creased from the folding, but still clear.

It’s always you, my betrothed.

[bigskycastle]

kinda personal ask but i was wondering (as an artist also posting their art on twt) how do you not have likes/rts amount to how you measure ur art? it gets kinda hard and ive been feeling self conscious about it lately so i was wondering if this is a normal thing or? either way i rlly respect you as an artist and i love the stuff you draw zelda or not!

thank you :-) it’s no worries, i’ll try and articulate this as best i can..

i think its incredibly easy to get pulled into thinking this way, and i do it way more often than i would like to :’)  like, objectively you know that likes/rt dont reflect the value of your art, but its still disheartening when you pull low numbers.. i think it’s because it feels almost as though your art was ignored or disregarded by people

but ultimately, social media is just... incredibly fickle n shallow lol. it will always favor content thats easy to digest/relate to. and thats fine! thats kind of what its built for. but it does make it very hard to get your foot in the door as an artist. esp if u don’t do much fanart :’) people don’t generally want to expend the energy it takes to engage with art, especially art thats more personal, or just like... “weird”. that's not even getting into the whole issue of being stuck in obscurity until someone with a larger following decides to share your stuff lol

all this to say.. like.. of course likes/rt dont reflect quality. if they're anything, they're more like.. like how views on a youtube video functions, i guess? if a video has more views, that generally means that: The Algorithm showed it to more people; that it has a flashy/intriguing thumbnail; and probably most importantly, that the content it advertises can appeal to a large demographic. its not a measure of its quality at all. i've watched super high quality niche documentaries and video essays etc., but because they have less mass appeal, they tend to sit below the 50k view threshold. its not a reflection of your value at all, its just a reflection of how well you can cater to what twitter as an..entity wants.

and i think i am pretty good at this! not cuz im such a phenomenal amazing artist, or cuz i try and pander or something, but because the way i draw and the things i enjoy drawing tend to line up pretty well with "what twitter wants”. in this sense im very lucky! i know many artists who genuinely ARE phenomenal and amazing but they might only draw, like, fanart of an obscure videogame from the early 2000s. doesnt make them less good, but you can see why they are less popular.

thats not to say that doing fanart will launch u into popularity or whatever tho. i mean, i posted fanart alongside OC on this blog since like 2016, and only in the past 1-2 years have i gotten much clout. i used to get super excited if any of my posts broke 20 notes. sometimes u just have to draw for yourself, improve your skills at your own pace and maybe hope someday people take notice of you i guess. but still, try to keep in mind that likes/rts dont really.. mean much. i think the thing they're most useful for is purely visibility, which can be useful in trying to get work.... SOMETIMES. (besides that, they're just good at making people irrationally distrust or hate you assuming youre some sort of.. i dont know.. rich industry pro and not a broke teenager lol)

(exhale) i hope this helps somehow lol it kind of turned into a rant about the things i dislike about posting art on socmed. if any other artists want to chip in and say something more coherent thatd be helpful LOL sorry anon. tldr: social media is fake and shallow, draw what makes you happy

[shadowfae]

hiii! so a friend directed me here and i was wondering if u cld share abt how you found out you were godkin? only if youre comfy! because ive kinda had like. how do i word this. Vibes or Feels that kinda direct me towards the whole i might be a god of sorts kinda thing ? if you have resources and dont mind helping,, please direct me to them :D ~ @missing-crown

I want to start this essay off by saying flat out: wars have been fought, genocides have been committed, and empires have risen and fallen trying to answer the simple questions of “What is deification, and how do we incarnate and control it?”.

If you do not think you’re up the challenge of answering that question for yourself, even with years of study and slow training to take up the mantle of literally being the most powerful form of the Chosen One trope, then you’re probably in the wrong place. I say this as someone who is deific down to the blood and bone, as someone who has looked for other gods, and largely found very little in the way of anyone who understands anything like my experience. In this way, I am utterly alone, and I detest it, but if me penning these words gives someone else the gospel they need to explain themselves in a way I recognize as kin and kind, then I will do it.

But before I truly get into it, I will very nicely ask you to swing down to your local bookstore or library, pick up a copy of Seanan McGuire’s Middlegame, and take a walk down the improbable road with Roger and Dodger. The differences between you and I and the twins of the Doctrine of Ethos are simple and threefold: we cannot manifest, we are forbidden to use our powers the way they can use theirs, and there are (hopefully) no secret alchemist cults trying to murder us when we don’t play nice with their fucked-up science experiment.

Roger and Dodger are gods, true gods, gods I recognize in myself and in the godkin I have met who have spoken about themselves enough for me to understand that we are indeed talking about the same thing. Disappontingly, I see minor spirits far too often misunderstanding the nature of deification, or at least, understanding a version of it which is fundamentally antithetical to my experience. They may be deific; but either they suck at illustrating their point, or I am something far beyond deific, and I am again alone.

With that introduction, I need to talk about three things in order to answer your question. Two methods of deification and three definitions of ‘god’ in a hierarchy that only exists because humanity has not yet perfected their understanding of what is fundamentally and always beyond them. Two kinds of gods, honest gods, that split the difference between deific, divine, and legendary. Once you understand that, I can talk about godkin, and what it’s like to be me, and maybe by the end of it you will either recognize yourself in this, or run away screaming as most mortals will do.

The first method of deification is what I will call the incarnate gods- Roger and Dodger are good examples, so are most Legendary Pokémon, and Kaname Madoka from PMMM. They are laws of nature, concepts of creation, and calculations of cosmic proportions that also occasionally exist as people when they design to do so. They are not meant to be people, they are bad at it, I do not recommend being mortal and fucking around with them. You will simply die. I would not fuck with them outside of my own world that I created, where I get to be a form of incarnate god. You cannot overpower them: they ARE the rule, and they will change it if they need to. You can’t ruleslawyer gravity like a 2007 troll physics comic. An incarnate god of gravity will simply turn reality on its head and cause you to implode. If you are this type of god, I cannot help you. My understanding of them comes from being an Absol, and little more.

The second type are gods of domain and prowess: Zamorak (from RuneScape), Akemi Homura in both her awakened Witch and Devil forms (from PMMM), and yours truly. Quite a few of us, although not all of us, were originally mortal. Mortals amped up on so much power we are no longer bound by mortal laws. There is a difference between deification and simply stopping your clock to gain immortality. Mortal magic and deific magic are fundamentally different. Down to, I would argue, the atomic structure. Deific magic is pure in a way mortal magic could never be. To give a mortal more than a drop of deific magic heavily diffused in something safer and more understandable would be to quite literally burn them to ashes. Or rend them into a different, unspeakable form. Or turn them into living topiary. We are nothing if not unpredictable.

It’s the difference between a handful of dirt and pure neutron soup. Usually, in order to become a god like this, it requires the intervention of an incarnate god in some form. In Zamorak’s case, it was several Elder Artifacts and falling almost facefirst into halfway incarnating himself into the law of entropy. In Homura’s (at least in canon PMMM), she fucked with the laws of consequence and time to the point where she became the only expert they had on either of those and both laws decided to simply incarnate into her, and then she used that to cause problems. For me, it was having my entire magical and physical structure reorganized and rebuilt by an incarnate god of malevolent energy, and then I used what was a watered-down copy of the Devil of Devils’ glory to weave my own world into being where I was more or less the absolute arbiter of the laws of reality.

In PMMM Rebellion, when Homura fights Kyubey in that pretty lace dress of hers, that is approximately the magical prowess an awakened god of our capability will show casually. She has complete control over her domain (her labyrinth) and the reality of it, it takes no more than a glance or a thought to almost entirely reshuffle it. Her minions, who are little more than vaguely autonomous thoughts given some power of their own, may break that reality in whatever means necessary so long as it is to fulfill Homura’s current motives. Her domain falls apart when she does, and she is not separate from it; it is a consequence of her existence. Asking what came first, the god or their domain, is a simple chicken and egg question. It’s usually the domain, in our case; in the case of incarnate gods it’s a philosophical shrug and a nice headache.

You’ll notice I said awakened: that is because Zamorak is a great example of a god who isn’t entirely awakened. In canon, that is - the one I work with is awakened enough to fuck with his domain, which is what makes him quite useful to work with, although I do wonder what he’s getting out of me if not magical theory and utter adoration. Zamorak in canon is a god who ascribes himself to the philosophy of chaos and personal strife, completely unaware that he is incarnate enough not to change the law of entropy but to suggest things to it. He’s a god of chance masquerading as a god of personal improvement, and once he figures that out (and passes that knowledge onto Armadyl, who is his true light counterpart), he’s going to change the very way magic works. Guthix did everything in his power to try and become incarnate. He failed. Zamorak did it entirely inadvertently, and that’s the trick: the nature of deification is to follow the domain and influence it to your will. When laws of existence become people, they will do as people will, and people typically have ambition. Gods who are also people got that way for a reason. They always have a motive for doing so. It’s never accidental.

So, with a slightly more informed understanding of deification, or at least the versions of it that I understand, I can talk to you about me. What it’s like in the here and now, and how I knew. It took me years to get to this point, and I’ve much the way to go. I know more than I did when I was questioning; deeply more so. I don’t expect anyone questioning to be as sure as I am, and in ten years I will be far more sure of entirely different things, and if I’m lucky, this as well. But, let us begin again.

To be deific is to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a black hole. You are vast, and you are dense, and the moment someone touches the skin of your sternum they will be sucked in like a movie's portrayal of quicksand. To be so vast on the inside, surrounded by empty air and gentle white noise like the faint pull of gravity that does not touch you. To feel so powerful as to be untethered wholly from the world, aware that you will blink and be floating alone in a space that you cannot touch and so too cannot touch you. You blink, and it is gone, and you are again in a normal body as a normal person, and you roll over and go back to sleep.

To be deific is to watch the seasonal changes and feel flashes of worn leather rope between your hands and the maddened singsong of the Wild Hunt, chariot reins in your hands and baying hounds that feel like fingers, like wings, like extensions of yourself that can be shifted around with barely a thought. To feel halfway like a black hole walking down the street, halfway caved into yourself and barely contained, incapable of truly understanding how you can be so far apart from it all without anyone noticing that something is off.

To be deific is to be a fourteen-year-old girl in one moment, unable to understand what draws her so to the wilds if not the song of sympathy that she knows she can understand if she reaches a little farther, a little farther past the barrier that prevents any mortal, psychological mind from understanding the call. To play a pixelated game and have everything rush back. To relive millennia in a single sennight, to go from chipped to broken, utterly broken, as the power comes rushing back and the slow, dawning realization like the day that there is no controlling it. That there is no controlling you.

Millennia of sins come rushing back, and you're mortal again, and you know the only way to bring a god to their knees is to kill them. And if you were spared, if you were brought down without dying, then there was a reason. That someone must have thought you worthy of fixing it. That you should now spend the next several years coming to peace with being a Devil, the cruelest of the cruel, amending fences and repenting your sins.

To be deific is to realize, quite suddenly and without ever actually having the thought, that understanding things through a Christian lens is utterly bullshit and absolutely does not apply to you. Now, your duty is not to repent, or to fix, or to find any sort of salvation. You are the monster queen, the king of the damned, the Devil of a world you made with blood and tears and sweat and magic. To retake the crown, you have to accept yourself. Acceptance does not mean dwelling, or sorrow, or refusing to take the steps forward that will carry you to the crown and halo and horn of deification.

The powers feel less overwhelming as you grow into them. You don't forget the rage. You understand your close friend's words over and over, as the lesson teaches itself. How a Devil so much less powerful and yet so much older than you once looked you in the eye, drink in hand, and gently told you that a single mortal can bring down a Devil, if they try, and believe wholeheartedly in their quest. Do not disrespect mortality. It brings nothing but death.

You wonder briefly who brought you down. You decide, as the lessons prove themselves, that you don't actually care. You're the mortal now, and mortal legends die. Mortal legends change the song of sympathy and the rules of the deific. In order to return, you too must follow the only path a mortal can take to become deific.

To be godkin is to become deific with every step. It's not to seek the divine from outside of it. It's to become it again, and reclaim it; find what was inside all along and grow yourself around it, until it can no longer be pulled from you again without scattering your ashes and stardust among the cosmos, never to return.

To be godkin is to never forget the moments of pure rage that none but powerless fourteen-year-olds can manage. To be godkin is to be an adult with their memory pressed into your skin. To be godkin is for that rage to never truly leave you.

We stand up again and stare at the emotions that are awake when we are not. We wonder what it will take to manifest again, to only twitch a thought in any direction and reshape the reality around us. It is an extension of our being, and the less aware we are of it, the less effort it takes us to remake the world. It is the nature of deification, to change the laws of reality at our whim and will.

To be godkin is simply a matter of knowing that, and forever reaching to do that once more. If only to feel whole and vast, as we always have been.