Also Don't Know If I Asked This Question Already.

Also don't know if I asked this question already.

But let's yeet the Grace and Fury! Duo into the modern world! What could possibly go wrong?

Also imagine the Grace and Fury! Duo meeting the duos of other AUs-

For other AU’s Edda would get rlly excited about meeting clones of herself (and more importantly of Aven lol)

and uh. My Aven might end up throwing hands with Duality Aven.

u have asked about the modern world before but I have other answers now!!! so

Aven would get really into music. and art. and anything creative. he would forget to eat for days if u gave him a guitar

Edda would try to race cars with her sprint. And maybe trains.

Aven would go to a climbing gym and have the time of his life

Edda would go to a regular gym and break one of the treadmills

*very long inhale*

THREE FUCKING HUNDRED KUDOS

wHAT

this is half celebration post, half thank-you post, and half “what the fuck” post. this is as good a time as any I suppose

I could never have imagined To Find Warmth would get this far. like, I knew my writing wasn’t… bad. and rain world is a decently large fandom. but oh my god, I’m to this day BEWILDERED that it reached the kind of heights it has.

people make fucking fanart. of this shit. people cry. to this shit. often! ppl get converted to the artisaint church by reading this shit. and I know, I know, I’m the writer!!! this isn’t some gift or blessing, you all do this for your own entertainment!!!! but I just… thank you all. so, so, so much. i couldn’t be more grateful for your time, your words, all of it.

I-I don’t know what else to say, I can’t convey all the things I want to. ironic, eh? so- whatever.

thank you guys. for reading, commenting, making fanart, clicking buttons, recommending it. everything. even though only like- thirty of those 300 kudos will see this. love yall. I hope I continue to impress. <3

Ok but like which color of paint tastes best tho?

… Personally, not a paint drinker. But.

blue

the planes of non-reality are shifting into place, irrevocably warping the very concepts of our world. soon the aether shall merge fully, make time and space malform and bend till what we once knew is naught but a shattered memory. my thoughts are all and none, I am and yet am not. soon, I shall crest the hill of corporealtity, and none will remember my name.

(im a lil sleepy)

I was wondering what would happen if saint got sick? Will he continue to assure Artificer that everything is fine with him? How will artificer try to take care of saint?

can’t easily express it in a single interaction, but knowing Saint he would try to assure her that he’s alright, even if he’s not. If they were traveling, Arti would get twice as protective of him, possibly trying to hide that fact if they’re not together yet.

If they weren’t traveling, she’d probably just stick by him constantly and only leave to get him food. might be a good idea for a fic :)

hello! below is a lil poem-esque thing I wrote about my experience questioning if I’m aromantic, my fears around that, and how it relates to my love of shipping in media. it’s a bit long, so it’s below a cut. if you do decide to read, I hope you enjoy :)

Longing.

What does that word mean?

Is it a wish for something to happen, or for something to be?

Is it a plea to the skies above, for rains to come or go? Or a prayer to the dirt beneath, for a world where rains aren’t needed for plants to flourish?

I know what I long for.

That fire, that warmth. The flutter, the lightness, spoken of like the realest of fairy tales in all the books and movies. The rush of elation at their presence, the one the heart has chosen, the beloved.

But… I don’t have it.

I know what I want.

Love. A racing heart, a closeness, a caring touch. Someone to hold close, to hold me close, and to whisper those three magical words, the ones that start and end a thousand wars a day. And I want to mean it.

But I can’t.

My spark lights naught, more of a cinder. As if I’ve no wood to burn. Despite all I meet, all the ones I come to care for, nothing, nothing at all makes itself known. My heart stays cold and unlit, untouched. I am desperate for a love I can neither give nor receive.

So often, one hears of the ones who long. “Oh, woe is me!” They cry to the heavens. “None can receive my heart, I am doomed to pine forever in tragedy!” And my heart beats for them, but never with them. So often one hears of a hopeless romantic, but if I am in their same boat, yet cannot conjure the romantic in the title, what does that make me?

Hopeless?

…

I don’t want to wallow.

Nothing comes of that, especially not love. But I’m afraid. What if my soul is destined to be this way? What if my heart is drenched in rain, and its fire will never light? What, oh heavens, what do I have to ease the silent ache?

I have… empathy.

I can see, feel through others. I can look at strokes on a canvas, read words on a page, and feel with what they were scrawled.

I can entrench in fiction, see through the minds, hearts of those unreal. I can watch them sing this eternal song and dance, beyond the veil, and feel what they do. Breathe in their feelings as they breathe in one another. Revel in my racing heart, alone, through their’s beating as one. Hold them close to my heart, as close as they hold one another.

I think I can live with that.

I think I can love like that.