Warding and Banishment [December 2025]
This subsection exists because warding is the practice of creating boundaries that actively push harm, fixation, and bad intent away. It's what you do when you decide someone no longer gets access to you, your space, or your energy.
In early 2025, Lizzy aka Skyessence1982 began flirting with Andy. At first it was awkward and laughable, and we didn't want to make a big deal out of it and hurt her feelings by just blocking her. When it didn’t stop and instead escalated, she was told very clearly in March to back the fuck off. She did not. What followed was months of tantrum behavior including but not limited to block evasion to send harassing messages, alts watching us, getting her friends to do callout posts, and appropriating Andy’s likeness in her art.
Lizzy has a long habit of using vague, pretentious titles built around phrases like “Scent of” or “Essence of” that sound deep but mean nothing, like "Scent of Loneliness", and by December 2025 I was done playing polite while a hydra of sockpuppets kept "growing new heads" by popping up every time we blocked one account.
So I stopped “taking the high road” and did something that DA could not justify removing as a callout. Knowing she was watching, I started making glass perfume bottle art. Each bottle represents a different “scent” or “essence” of the toxic behaviors baked into DA’s so-called community (so not just Lizzy being singled out here). It was cathartic, yes, but it was also effective. We spritzed our way right off DA, and Andy and I are genuinely happier and safer away from that mess.
This page exists to show those bottles as individual creative works, each one its own little spell of containment and warning. If you are innocent, may these bottles keep DA's malignant drama far from you. If you are here to keep stalking us and you now feel uncomfortable reading this, maybe sit with that and ask yourself why.
In early 2025, Lizzy aka Skyessence1982 began flirting with Andy. At first it was awkward and laughable, and we didn't want to make a big deal out of it and hurt her feelings by just blocking her. When it didn’t stop and instead escalated, she was told very clearly in March to back the fuck off. She did not. What followed was months of tantrum behavior including but not limited to block evasion to send harassing messages, alts watching us, getting her friends to do callout posts, and appropriating Andy’s likeness in her art.
Lizzy has a long habit of using vague, pretentious titles built around phrases like “Scent of” or “Essence of” that sound deep but mean nothing, like "Scent of Loneliness", and by December 2025 I was done playing polite while a hydra of sockpuppets kept "growing new heads" by popping up every time we blocked one account.
So I stopped “taking the high road” and did something that DA could not justify removing as a callout. Knowing she was watching, I started making glass perfume bottle art. Each bottle represents a different “scent” or “essence” of the toxic behaviors baked into DA’s so-called community (so not just Lizzy being singled out here). It was cathartic, yes, but it was also effective. We spritzed our way right off DA, and Andy and I are genuinely happier and safer away from that mess.
This page exists to show those bottles as individual creative works, each one its own little spell of containment and warning. If you are innocent, may these bottles keep DA's malignant drama far from you. If you are here to keep stalking us and you now feel uncomfortable reading this, maybe sit with that and ask yourself why.
Begone Thot Spray
For the hoes who hear “I’m happily taken” and reply, “we could be more if we both wanted it.”
For the skanks who think flashing tiddies is a personality and that “gay man” is a challenge setting.
For the dudes who treat DA like Grindr, ignore boundaries, and then beg for explicit couple art like it’s a vending machine.
One spritz for unsolicited thirst.
Two for entitlement.
Three for the inability to read.
Boundaries: enforced.
Relationship: respected.
Inbox: cleansed. ✨
Essence of He Blocked You in March, "Sweety"
Nuff said.
Essence of He's Not Your Soulmate, Get Therapy
Years ago I remember hearing about a very delusional woman who believed she was married to Brent Spiner (the actor who played Data on Star Trek: The Next Generation) as well as Putin and Jesus, well Lizzy is just like that, and was a large contributing factor to why we left DA in January 2026.
Honey Pot Poison
Honey Pot Poison is an essence that presents as soft, feminine, and sexually inviting, surrounded by a harem whose work all suspiciously looks the same, and the communication style is identical, including overwrought sweetness and emoji abuse. Also, the smut in these exchanges reads like it was written by a man: anatomical errors about how cisgender female bodies actually work, “hi let’s fuck” dynamics, clichés, and porn-brained tropes.
It’s bait.
Pretty on the surface. Rotten underneath.
If you know, you know.
Scent of Grifter Bullshit
“A dingo ate my baby.”
That phrase entered the cultural lexicon as a fabricated sob story that people rallied around before the facts mattered. DeviantArt has its own versions of this: emotionally loaded narratives designed to extract sympathy, money, or favors, often collapsing under even minimal scrutiny.
You’ll see requests for large point donations to “pay for someone’s treatment,” despite the fact that donated points cannot be converted into cash at all—only earnings can.
You’ll see people spinning down-on-their-luck stories while calling you their “dear friend” and asking you to sell work for $1, all while they spend $50 a day on exclusives, including $5+ pieces by artists who openly hate that same “friend” and have produced targeted hate art against them.
Alongside this are rampant practices like multi-accounting to game the algorithm, artificial self-promotion, and coordinated engagement that masquerades as community.
There’s also a subset of people who treat DA like OnlyFans, except the persona itself is fake—manufactured AI identities built to farm attention, money, and sexualized engagement. Some of these accounts are men pretending to be women (and no, not trans women), which becomes obvious the moment they start writing smut riddled with basic anatomical errors about cisgender female bodies. The tone reads porn-brained, rushed, and transactional, with copy-paste “hi let’s fuck” dynamics and clichés lifted straight from bad erotica. It’s not intimacy, it’s bait—and like everything else in this ecosystem, it’s optimized for extraction, not honesty.
Scent of an Egomaniac
Scent Of An Egomaniac is inspired by a familiar fragrance on DeviantArt: equal parts entitlement, algorithm-chasing, and the unmistakable musk of self-importance. You know the one. The artists who somehow rack up hundreds of likes in a short amount of time, not because the work is groundbreaking or even really good, but because they’re running a small nation-state of alt accounts and mutual-admiration rings. The same people who treat an art archive like it’s Instagram Lite, chasing metrics instead of mastery, engagement instead of expression.
And then there’s the economy of it all: the contests where the winners are mysteriously the same "inner circle", and transactions that look less like generosity and more like laundering clout through currency.
Ask an innocent question about how any of this works and watch the temperature spike. Suddenly the vibe shifts—defensiveness, dogpiling, vague accusations, whispered warnings. The system insists it’s organic, transparent, totally normal… and reacts with remarkable hostility to anyone who notices the pattern. Funny how the moment you question the Matrix, the Agents show up.
This isn’t about popularity—it’s about performance. About turning art into a numbers game, gaming visibility while loudly mistaking attention for talent. It’s about influencer behavior dressed up as artistry, where the goal isn’t to make something good, but to make something seen, preferably while talking down to everyone who isn’t playing the same hollow game.
This scent is for the artists who still believe in craft, curiosity, and actual creative risk—not just farming validation and calling it genius.
Essence of Stolen Valor
Essence of Stolen Valor is not an accusation against everyone on DA who claims to be an active service member or veteran. Statistically speaking, of course there are real service members on this site who make art as a hobby and decompress creatively. It would be absurd to pretend otherwise. Not every claim of military service is a lie, and that’s not what this is about.
But it is about the people who are lying — and the tells are often glaring if you know what you’re looking at.
This scent clings to accounts that loudly claim special forces, elite units, or other special roles, while somehow having endless free time to be active on DeviantArt all day every day and deep into the night on US weeknights. It smells like trauma stories that don’t line up with reality: talking about losing people in Afghanistan “a couple years ago,” after the US pulled out, citing factual errors about how the US military works (knowing most civilians won't catch it), or recounting deployments, timelines, and operations that collapse under even basic scrutiny. As an example of this, very few women are in the Army Special Forces, no woman has earned the Navy SEAL Trident, no women have secured positions on Marine Raider teams, and there are no all-female units in any branch of the US military (it's only segregated by gender when you're in basic).
It smells like roleplaying instead of the messy, specific reality actual service members and veterans tend to describe. Which would be fine, I guess, if it was explicitly marked as a roleplaying profile account up-front and not spun as actual biographical stories to try to make friends and intimate connections on the site.
There’s also a particular stench that comes from people who deploy “disabled veteran” in unsolicited guilt-laced messages designed to push you into buying from their shop. The reality is that “disabled veteran” claims are a dime a dozen online, precisely because they’re hard to verify with the anonymity of the Internet and are also emotionally charged. And the uncomfortable truth is this: if you are a real disabled veteran, odds are you’re dealing with limited time, energy, inconsistent health, appointments, paperwork, pain, and possibly unreliable Internet access altogether — all things that make running a constantly active DeviantArt presence and shop significantly harder, not easier. When someone is endlessly available, aggressively marketing, and leveraging that label as a sales pitch, skepticism isn’t cruelty. It’s common sense.
It’s pattern recognition born of watching the same script run again and again.
If you know, you know. And if you don’t like being questioned, maybe ask yourself why your story can’t survive it.
Creeper Goblin Venom
Creeper Goblin Venom is formulated to repel all evil-aligned goblins, but it’s especially effective against ostensibly female goblins who think a trans man is just a “confused lesbian,” as if that’s a reasonable belief to carry around in public. The kind who cannot process in particular that gay trans men exist, are men, like men, and are not a puzzle to be solved or a challenge to be overcome.
And this venom burns hottest on contact with ostensibly lesbian goblins who see a trans man happily partnered to a gay man and still decide to flirt, push, sexualize, and persist — and then act shocked when that behavior is called what it is: sexual harassment.
This venom especially burns when the goblin is finally confronted and tries to dodge accountability by saying “I’m autistic,” as if that magically turns harassment into an oopsie. Autism is not a free pass to ignore consent, bulldoze boundaries, or keep hitting on someone who has clearly said no. Plenty of autistic people understand “no means no” just fine. Using neurodivergence as a shield after the fact is not self-awareness — it’s cowardice.
Creeper Goblin Venom does not explain. It does not negotiate. It does not offer endless grace to people who refuse to extend basic respect. It blocks, disengages, and closes the door without apology. It exists for the moment you realize someone isn’t socially awkward — they’re an entitled sex pest, and they’re counting on you to let it slide.
No means no.
Trans men are men.
And goblins don’t get access just because they feel owed.
Fake Made-Up AI Persona Deterrent
Fake Made-Up AI Persona Deterrent exists because after a while, pattern recognition stops being paranoia and starts being literacy.
For example: women who claim to come from “exotic” European countries, often ones where red hair is statistically extremely rare, yet somehow they’re all redheads. They speak fluent English — too fluent — except for occasional, oddly chosen errors that don’t match how real second-language speakers actually stumble. The mistakes feel placed, like seasoning, suggesting someone trying to sound foreign rather than someone who actually is.
Orbiting these personas is a familiar supporting cast: cis women claiming to be 6’4” elite soldiers, or professional bodybuilders, wrestlers, whatever — all with endless time to be on DeviantArt posting AI “selfies” at all hours. Somehow they’re never training, never competing, never working, never offline.
Most of them claim to be lesbians — but the art tells a different story. The imagery is relentlessly male-gaze: boobs and asses framed the way straight porn frames them, not the way queer women tend to depict desire. The erotic writing is worse. It reads like it was written by men, complete with stupid tropes and basic factual errors about how cisgender female bodies work. The ones who aren’t writing the smut cheer it on instead of saying “hey, that’s not how any of this works.”
And yes, women can be sci-fi fans and gamers — obviously — but these personas, some of whom create sci-fi art, don’t sound like women in those spaces. They sound like nerdy gamer bros cosplaying as women.
Across all of it, the writing conventions are eerily uniform. Same sentence structures or phrasing. Same emojis. Same use of bold and italics. Same faux-intimacy (and sometimes, boundary violations). Same tone. Different avatars, identical voice.
Then there’s the parallel ecosystem: clusters of accounts whose art all looks the same, whose communication style is indistinguishable, who inflate each other’s numbers through mutual likes and signal boosting, and call each other "dear friend" and get touchy-feely despite not even knowing each other. The same handful of names circulate endlessly. The same people win contests. The same people get awards. The sameness isn’t subtle; it’s Matrix-like. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it.
And the moment you question it, you’re treated like Satan. Because questioning the illusion threatens the machinery that keeps it running.
Fake Made-Up AI Persona Deterrent doesn’t exist to be polite. It exists to make the room smell different — sharp enough that people can let themselves question why this doesn't add up.
If this makes you uncomfortable, ask yourself why.
Essence of a Fake Friend
Essence Of A Fake Friend smells like shallow closeness, transactional concern, and two-faced betrayal.
It smells like people who fling around the phrase “dear friend” because you faved a piece, left a comment, or bought something once. To me, friend isn’t a marketing term or a dopamine reflex. It’s a word I use carefully, after time, consistency, and trust. When someone treats it like confetti, what they’re really saying is “you’re useful to me right now.”
It smells like the people who call you their closest or dearest friend on DeviantArt, then spin a sob story about being down on their luck so you’ll sell to them for only a dollar—while they casually drop $50 a day on exclusives from other artists, including $5+ per piece on people who openly hate you and have made targeted hate art about you.
It smells like the ones who slide into your DMs asking who’s been harassing you, who seem concerned right up until you give them names. Then it’s “oh, that’s too bad, sorry to hear that”—and nothing changes, they're still overly friendly with the person/s in question. Or worse: they promise “I’ll block them” and don’t, and continue buying, selling, being buddy-buddy. That smell is cowardice dressed up as neutrality, comfort prioritized over integrity.
It also smells like people who drag you into their petty fallouts over trivial, non-harassment, non-theft nonsense and expect you to pick a side, nod along, and sit through a multi-screen moral lecture about their hurt feelings. They want solidarity when it benefits them—but have no problem palling around with, promoting, and financially enriching people they know have targeted you, and might even dismiss the harassment as "no big deal". That scent is hypocrisy with a self-righteous edge: selective ethics, selective outrage, and loyalty that only points inward.
And it smells like people who only remember to ask how you’re doing when they notice you haven’t bought their work and/or clicked the like button lately. Concern that conveniently coincides with a dip in attention isn’t concern at all—it’s inventory management.
This bottle is the scent of quiet extraction. It's the scent of people who take until there’s nothing left and then act surprised that the proverbial field of fucks is barren and the earth has been salted.
