mercy-mercie-mercymorn

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

okay i'm officially 22

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

I'll find my own path.

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

Labyrinthian

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

cracking myself up thinking about the movement towards simplified forms in cave paintings

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

i'm a sucker for a good picrew

YOOOOO, I found a cool picrew!!!

(here's the picrew

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

My 14 year old brother just took a drink of hot chocolate and hissed like he'd knocked back a shot of vodka then set it down and went "ah... that's the good stuff."

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

How To Sign Up For This Exchange

In order to sign up for this exchange, you will need:

An Ao3 account (if you don’t already have one, now’s a good time to go get in the queue for an invite!)

To join the Discord Server

A description of each requested character to a maximum of 500 words per character. The description should include your character’s:

Name, age, and pronouns

Personality

Story, background, and fandom-specific information (if relevant)

Speech patterns

Description/appearance (may link to images as examples)

Relationships with other characters.

Potential likes, prompts, etc that your giftee could create for you.

A list of DNWs (things you do not want in your gift). Note that DNWs may not be used to box your gifter into creating one specific thing.

OPTIONAL: A Dear-Gifter letter with more information about your characters, prompts, etc.

Additionally, the sign-up form may seem a little complicated on first glance. Click below the Read More for further explanation!

TAGSET | DISCORD | COLLECTION

In order to begin the sign-up process, you'll need to navigate to the Ao3 Collection and select the sign-up button. You can submit your sign-up at any point and come back later to continue editing it! Sign-ups will open on January 19th.

In the sign-up form, you'll find the following fields. Let's go through each of them together.

Fandom = Genre

The first field you’ll select from is the genre your OC falls under. You may select multiple – as many as are accurate to the universe your character(s) live in, up to 10. These genres are broad for a reason; you’ll be able to hone in on the exact subgenres in the Relationships field.

Characters = Gift Type

There are only two options here: Fic or Art. You can request one, the other, or both!

Relationships = Subgenre

This field is for the subgenre of the “Fandom” you selected earlier. For example, if you picked Horror, Romance, and Fandom OC, you’ll now be able to put in “Cosmic Horror,” “Enemies to Lovers,” and “Minecraft OC” to get more specific about the type of character(s) you are requesting.

Categories

Category is the ship type of your request. If you’re requesting a solo character with no ships, select Gen. 

Ratings

Ratings define the Content Level of your request and OC lore. Selecting E-rated means you are opting into the potential of receiving NSFW work.

Archive Warnings

As with rating, these are to define the Content Level of your request and your OC lore. If graphic violence, major character death, etc appear in your requested universe’s lore, please tick these boxes. It will be assumed you are also willing to receive a gift containing those warnings; if this is not the case, please edit the OC lore shared so that you can remove those warnings.

If a type of content appears in your work that you feel needs warned for but does not have an option in the Archive Warnings, you may select the warning that is similar (i.e. Graphic Body Horror could fall under Graphic Violence), or you may select “Choose Not To Warn.”

NOTE: Offering Choose Not To Warn will opt you into being potentially matched with a wide variety of potentially triggering or discomforting content. Offer responsibly!

Prompt URL

You may submit a Dear Gifter letter with your signup. A letter is a link to an off-Ao3 document or webpage that contains more information about your OCs and signup that might be too long to include in the description box. Look here for an example!

Description

Here, you can enter your DNWs (Do-Not-Wants, a list of all of the things that would ruin a gift for you if they were included), likes, character information, and prompts or ideas for your gifter to create for you. As mentioned above, you can use a letter especially if you are requesting multiple OCs in one request and run out of space for all of the information. However, you must have your DNW in the Ao3 box in order for it to be enforced.

The best practice is to divide your sign-up into one request per universe (the specific setting that your characters live in; whether that’s a pre-existing fandom or a world you’ve made up) and group all of the OCs that live in that universe together. If you have a lot of OCs in one universe, or if you want to request different ratings per character or ship (e.g. if you’re okay with NSFW for three characters, but not for two others, you’d be best to split those up into different requests). 

To be guaranteed a gift, your signup must request at least 3 unique universes OR 5 unique characters, and your offers must be matchable to another person in the exchange. If your offers are not matchable when sign-ups end, the mods will contact you with the opportunity to add more tags until you are matchable.

You may attach other pieces of relevant media, such as songs, literature, moodboards, TV shows, movies, etc. These pieces of media are not required engagement for your gifter. The only required reading is the following:

500 word max description of the OC

Relevant likes, prompt ideas, and DNWs to the OC(s) you choose to make a work about

If you have any other questions not covered here, please send us an ask here on Tumblr or join our Discord server to chat with the mods!

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

the context for this was i was on hold with airline customer service after losing my suitcase.

i want to do a digital version of this but i know it will look worse so i prob wont lmao

i went looking for tav refs in my camera roll because i'm planning on drawing some shart x tav fanart and i found this cutie!

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

can't say i recommend it

should I get into genshin for the Single Red Guy that I enjoy and relate to...... is it even worth it....... in the sea of five gazillion characters and gacha game gameplay :( I DON'T EVEN HAVE A PHONE. MY COMPUTER WOULD LIGHT ON FIRE </3

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

i fucking hate the irl lore of assassin's creed constantly interrupting the narrative of the games. i don't need justification for why i'm walking around as kassandra from ancient greece i would rather just do that.

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

I was at a bookstore looking through the art section and I saw a spine that said The Camden Town Nudes which was interesting because this didn’t seem like the bookstore where I would ever find something like that and I wanted to have a casual look but like. This also wasn’t exactly the bookstore where you felt like you could look at naked pictures let alone just suggestive paintings of them, it’s a really small shop as well, so I was like right I’ll just take a quick peek, I’m an art student, I love history, maybe I’ll buy it. I looked both ways and saw the shopkeep had left momentarily and no one was about, so I opened it and found it was an entire book featuring nude Edwardian women all painted by Walter Sickert between 1905-1912 and it was actually quite a revolutionary set of paintings for its time given that it featured very raw depictions of working class nude women in dark London instead of the elegant, white bedsheet clad, Demure middle and upper class women usually depicted.

And of course RIGHT as I flip to this lady’s boobs practically taking up an entire double page spread, every customer in a 5 mile radius appeared from around the corners of the shelf including the shopkeep and immediately regressing to a wet, pathetic Edwardian man from 1908, startled, I dropped the large book which caused a giant SLAP on the floor in this already silent store thus causing all patrons to look down at me scrambling on my knees to close a giant book of Edwardian boobs and let me tell you it would not have been nearly as funny had I not immediately felt like some Edwardian local pervert who just tried to sneak a cheeky peek at the erotic book in the bookstore only to drop it dramatically causing a scene, red up to his ears trying to shove it back on the shelf. Like such a casual and normal thing in modern day but looking at Edwardian women suddenly turned it into this egregious act as I apparently became possessed by the spirit of a moustached man in a bowler hat and morning coat going Good Heavens I mustn’t gaze upon these images in public lest the constable haul me away!

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

ughhhhh this hand pain blows, i wanna draw some shit but SOMEONE (*glares at pinky finger*) keeps getting pins and needles

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

haven't drawn joy in forever and my hand pain is pretty bad today so i will have to settle for a picrew

sauce

- from New Orleans

- plays volleyball

- her grandma her is favorite person (she's the favorite grandchild)

- can't drive

- thinks that soul eater is the best anime of all time (maka stan)

non-agrovember writing

i did it! anyways the formatting is probably going to be really fucked up when i paste it in but i don't feel like fixing it.

context: the apocalypse came, and joy was taken because of her ability to see the future. now she's on mount olympus, forced to deliver prophecies for the false goddess

under da cut, you know the drill

tw: drugs mention, non-graphic violence mention, mc has hallucinations and visions, imprisonment

Atsali guided the blindfolded Joy into a room that had the soft hum of people. She could hear them shuffling and whispering. “Here,” said a woman, and Atsali pushed Joy into a chair before letting go of her shoulder at last. Joy heard the squeak-squeak-squeak of a dry erase marker, and it almost made her laugh. It was like she was playing some kind of elementary school game. The blindfold was abruptly pulled off. Her vision took a second to adjust as she blinked away the disorientation. The space—a basement room—was crowded, dimly lit by flickering lanterns and candles. The faces of the people that looked at her were all familiar enough: warriors of the arena, servants in Ariana’s banquets, staff who attended to Joy herself when she was too weak to stand. Their faces were clearer now, without the haze of prophecies and illness clouding her mind. 

Glancing at Atsali, her heart shuddered momentarily. She knew the woman reading Atsali’s small whiteboard, who the black-clad warrior clung to in a loving way. The woman never looked Joy’s way, but Joy always saw her: sitting in the front row of Ariana’s box, always next to the man who doled out punishments. She was the woman that everyone called Warden. 

Joy stammered something out, approximating a mixture of an apology and a plea for mercy. 

“Christ,” muttered someone. “We’re scaring her shitless.” 

An olive-skinned woman in a suit of mummy-like beige wraps scoffed. “The Warden’s scaring her shitless.” 

As Atsali started scribbling again, another warrior stepped towards Joy. His broad shoulders, covered in a brightly-colored tunic, shielded her from the warden’s view. 

“Hello, noyollo,” he said kindly. “I’m sure this is confusing for you.” 

“Is this a setup?” Joy asked. “To see if I would betray Her Ladyship?” The honorific sent a ripple of sighs through the room. 

“No setup,” the man assured her. “Just…complicated.” Atsali came up and rocked impatiently on his shoulder. He rolled his eyes. “Ay, slow your roll, I’m getting there.” He smiled at Joy like they were both in on the joke, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Gently, he shooed Atsali away, and glanced back at Joy. “I’m sure you know better than most that we were brought here against our will. But that includes all of us. Even our warden.” Stepping aside, he gave Joy a clear look at the warden. 

The woman shrunk in on herself, like she was trying to disappear. Something was so different in this little room. There was no longer anything untouchable about her. 

“Lee is like us. She wants to get out of here, but the False Goddess is strong,” said the man. “She’s clever, too. So we formed a resistance.” The word seemed to come to life as he spoke. 

“Resistance.” It spawned from Joy’s lips in turn, so sudden that she couldn’t stop herself. Fear, and subsequent shame at feeling so afraid, shot through her. Nephthys and Ixtab had warned her to be careful, and here she was, saying such a thing. In a room where people called Ariana a false goddess. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I…” her voice broke. She cleared her throat. “I have to be hallucinating. This isn’t real, right?” 

The desperation in her voice made her sick. The pitying looks from around the room made her sicker. But she couldn’t stop herself. 

“They give me so many drugs to make me see things. I’m crazy. I-I’m hallucinating!” 

Her vision blurred. Tears. God, she didn’t want to cry. Atsali approached her, waving off the man and one of the women from the medical staff. She bared her fingertip once more and pressed it to Joy’s hand. After the initial contact, Joy wasn’t forced into Atsali’s mind, but she went willingly, just to escape the gazes of the rebels. 

Glimpses of memories swam through her mind; beaches at sunrise and plush white comforters and holding hands with a man as they were both covered in blood. But the memory settled on a quiet living room. Atsali—whose eyes Joy saw out of—stepped towards a sofa. Curled up on it was a pale girl whose only resemblance to Joy was her sorrow. She buried her face into the plushie she held like a life ring: a black cat with a blue ribbon around its neck. 

“Please just go.” 

“I won’t,” said Atsali. “Because I love you. Whatever you think everyone thinks about you, you’re wrong. Something bad happened to you and you’re having a hard time. Let us help you, darling.” She went on to list other people who cared for the girl, but Joy couldn’t focus. Outside the living room windows, memories rushed past. They demolished the room like a tsunami. 

The warden, in a bedroom, her head in her hands: “He’s killing me. Every touch, every look, every time he calls me that name.” The beginning of a migraine planted itself behind Joy’s right eye. The mummy-wrapped woman, holding Atsali’s black-suited hand: “You’re not dead, and I know that, but you’re like a fucking ghost, Cyn.” Joy tried to blink, but she couldn’t.

A man, his old-fashioned spectacles glinting in the light of a kerosene lamp: “There’s always a way out. You just have to find it.” Pain flared. Joy grit her teeth. 

And again, in more modern clothes: “What is it you say?” 

Atsali answered as Joy suddenly felt like someone was squeezing her skull like a grape. 

“I’d rather just burn the whole thing down.” “Yeah, don’t do that.” The sentence “We need the seer if we’re going to get out,” was written on a piece of paper, then burned. 

Joy sobbed with relief as she emerged from Atsali’s mind. Atsali scrambled for the board and wrote “SORRY” in big block letters. She waved it repeatedly for emphasis, but Joy just held her head, waiting for the pain to ebb away. 

“What did you do?!” asked the woman on the medical staff. Atsali was gesturing nonsensically as she tried to write out an explanation. Joy shook her head. “I’m okay. It just…it hurt. But it doesn’t anymore.” 

Skeptical, the medic started to give her the workup. 

“Why me?” Joy asked Atsali. The warden answered first. 

“You’re the only person we trust who’s been to her palace.” Bile rose in Joy’s throat. “So I’m a tool?” “No,” answered the man who’d been so nice. “We’re trying to help as many people as we can, but to do that, we need to make a decisive move. We need to strike the False Goddess where it hurts: her home.” She could see the logic in it, although it felt just as shitty. The medic drew back, satisfied, and Joy tugged down her long sleeves. 

“If I help you…I need you to look for someone here. I want to talk to her first.” “Anyone,” agreed one of the rebels. Atsali nodded. 

“Her name is Kalyani. She’s a devi who might use a scythe. And…” she tried to keep her voice steady. “I think they took her eyes.” The nauseating vision she’d had months ago of Kalyani’s beautiful star-white eyes rolling around in a jar of formaldehyde came back to her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. 

The others looked expectantly at a college-aged man who’d already whipped out some kind of magical iPad. He tapped so fast that the reflection in his glasses seemed to shake. 

“Devi…blind…” he murmured. “Ah, yeah, here she is. Petala, Temple of Demeter.” 

“That makes sense,” commented the mummy woman. “I knew she was blind, but she’s been using fans, not a scythe. She’s damn good with them.” Hearing her speak longer, Joy realized she had a New York accent. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only American here, she supposed. The first man chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “You only remember her because she almost beat you.” “Cyn, get this idiot outta my face before I stab him.” Atsali’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

“Cyn?” Joy asked. “Oh, yeah, her real name isn’t Atsali. That’s just her stage name, y’know? We all have them.” Joy blushed. It made sense, but she hadn’t really thought about it. Most of the times she’d been taken to the arena, she’d been too sick to even second-guess things like that. 

“We’ll do introductions when you’re in our ranks,” said the medic, shooting everyone a cross look. “If talking to Petala will help you make up your mind, let’s get you to her.” 

The others didn’t even look embarrassed. 

Atsali volunteered herself to accompany Joy by moving back towards her, but nearly everyone in the room protested. Instead, the first man was chosen, which secretly relieved Joy. She wasn’t sure that she could handle much longer with Atsali and her whiteboard. 

The man led Joy out of the basement. He smiled at her again, and it would’ve been reassuring if they were anywhere else, but the prospect of seeing Kalyani suddenly felt…real. She was trying not to cry. 

The building they were in must’ve been pretty. In the dark, it was largely just a blur of shadow, but occasional slices of moonlight illuminated walls painted in sumptuous jewel tones, depicting all the myths that Joy didn’t know. 

“You didn’t blindfold me,” Joy realized as they got to the ground floor. 

“We have to go a longer distance than you went with Atsali,” he explained, unfastening the patterned cloak he wore. “And unfortunately, I think you’ll have to use your power to enter my mind before we leave.” He did look genuinely sorry about it. “I thought you were probably tired of an audience.” 

Joy nodded, holding back a sigh. “They call me Topaz, but my name is Painal.” “I’m Joy,” she told him, extending her hand. He rolled his shoulders, and squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring something in another language. When he reached out for her, she plunged into his mind like a car with faulty brakes. 

From a sofa on a breezy veranda, Joy saw a city that could’ve put Olympus to shame. The blue sky bled into a golden sunrise, setting the entire city alight. Every building seemed to be accented with gold, studded with jade, and painted with vibrant hues of azure and turquoise and red. Red, like the drink in Painal’s hands. He drank, and the bitterness filled Joy’s senses, complimented perfectly by the tastes of honey and vanilla. 

The taste still lingered as she returned to the dark room. “Did that hurt?” he asked immediately, looking worried. “No, it was fine. Atsali only hurt because she just has so many memories. It happens sometimes,” said Joy. He nodded sagely. “That makes sense, I guess.” 

“You’re some kind of god, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Some kind,” he agreed. “Let’s get going. We need to get you back to your room before sunrise.” He whipped the cloak like a bedsheet, and it fell over them. “We stay under this, and no one can see us. Just keep close to me.” There was just enough room for them to both be in the cloak’s folds, but Joy still ended up with her hand on Painal’s elbow as he led them out of the building. It was bigger than she’d thought it was, and in front of it was a nearly-empty fountain. Nine statues held an assortment of items that occasionally dripped with water: a flute, a pair of masks, an astrolabe. Their heads had been knocked off. 

Joy was tugged along by Painal. He seemed to have a knack for avoiding the guards, though they wound around the temples and palaces to do so. Most of them, like the building Joy lived in, had been turned into housing for the fighters. Gold and marble statues had been desecrated by the invaders, and most structures had a similar fate. 

She guessed that the building they approached was once covered in plants, but now, it was a mass of withering leaves atop worn and dirty stone. Painal effortlessly found a back door, and pulled a few skinny tools from something like a fanny pack that was partially hidden under the top of his tunic.

“Can you believe the warden won’t let us borrow her keys?” he whispered with a laugh. “We have to pick them.” She was familiar with the little clicking sounds the process made, but they felt so loud in the night. When the door creaked as Painal eased it open, she just about swore. 

“I wish Eliud would’ve told us which room,” sighed Painal. He reached into his pack and produced an honest-to-god flashlight. Its beam lingered long enough on each door to read the numbers on them. Joy couldn’t have told you what each of them meant, but he apparently could. On the first floor, in the corner of the temple, was Kalyani’s room. Painal took the cloak off of them as he closed the door behind Joy and himself. He shone the flashlight on Kalyani’s bed. 

Joy was afraid Kalyani would scream or otherwise startle and alert the whole house, which would in turn alert the guards, but her friend only stirred gently. She sat up like a nighttime invasion was scheduled in her stupid leather-bound planner. 

“I was wondering when you would come,” she said softly. Her black hair used to be shiny and smooth. It moved like water once, but now, it was limp and dry around her brown face. A strip of fabric was affixed over her eyes. Pink. Pink wasn’t Kal’s color. 

“You expected us?” Painal asked, confused.

“Word spreads, even outside of the big leagues. You’re lucky everyone hates the warden and her man.” And then Kalyani cut straight to the point, as was her way. “I want to join the resistance.” 

Running a hand through his dark hair, Painal let out something resembling both a laugh and a sigh. “Well, that’s good to know, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

Kalyani frowned. 

“I’m why,” Joy said, as quiet as her emotions would allow. Kalyani moved from the bed in an instant, hugging Joy. 

Knowing what was coming didn’t make it easier. She was Kal, shouting at herself to get under Ray’s big mahogany desk. There was an earthquake. Kalyani had tried to hold up the roof of the office by morphing, unleashing her extra arms like she only did when things were really bad. But before anything could happen, there was that bright white light, and it was all gone. 

“Priye. Oh, thank God, you’re alive, priye.” She felt the ends of Joy’s braids, the curve of her jaw, the tops of her shoulders, like she was trying to convince herself it was really Joy. Joy couldn’t help it; she cried. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffed. “Y-your eyes…” Kalyani shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. Did they hurt you?” “Yeah,” Joy choked out. “They did.” 

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

Fellow Physical Media Warriors - if you don’t already know, there is a website called DoesItPlay that tests newer physical games to determine whether they’re genuinely playable off the disc (yay) or if they’re essentially a digital game with more steps (boo).

It’s also great if you like to thrift games, because it warns you if content is restricted to a one-time-use code.

This problem will only worsen as systems age and servers shut down. Don’t accidentally buy coasters!

[mercy-mercie-mercymorn]

non-agrovember writing

i did it! anyways the formatting is probably going to be really fucked up when i paste it in but i don't feel like fixing it.

context: the apocalypse came, and joy was taken because of her ability to see the future. now she's on mount olympus, forced to deliver prophecies for the false goddess

under da cut, you know the drill

tw: drugs mention, non-graphic violence mention, mc has hallucinations and visions, imprisonment

Atsali guided the blindfolded Joy into a room that had the soft hum of people. She could hear them shuffling and whispering. “Here,” said a woman, and Atsali pushed Joy into a chair before letting go of her shoulder at last. Joy heard the squeak-squeak-squeak of a dry erase marker, and it almost made her laugh. It was like she was playing some kind of elementary school game. The blindfold was abruptly pulled off. Her vision took a second to adjust as she blinked away the disorientation. The space—a basement room—was crowded, dimly lit by flickering lanterns and candles. The faces of the people that looked at her were all familiar enough: warriors of the arena, servants in Ariana’s banquets, staff who attended to Joy herself when she was too weak to stand. Their faces were clearer now, without the haze of prophecies and illness clouding her mind. 

Glancing at Atsali, her heart shuddered momentarily. She knew the woman reading Atsali’s small whiteboard, who the black-clad warrior clung to in a loving way. The woman never looked Joy’s way, but Joy always saw her: sitting in the front row of Ariana’s box, always next to the man who doled out punishments. She was the woman that everyone called Warden. 

Joy stammered something out, approximating a mixture of an apology and a plea for mercy. 

“Christ,” muttered someone. “We’re scaring her shitless.” 

An olive-skinned woman in a suit of mummy-like beige wraps scoffed. “The Warden’s scaring her shitless.” 

As Atsali started scribbling again, another warrior stepped towards Joy. His broad shoulders, covered in a brightly-colored tunic, shielded her from the warden’s view. 

“Hello, noyollo,” he said kindly. “I’m sure this is confusing for you.” 

“Is this a setup?” Joy asked. “To see if I would betray Her Ladyship?” The honorific sent a ripple of sighs through the room. 

“No setup,” the man assured her. “Just…complicated.” Atsali came up and rocked impatiently on his shoulder. He rolled his eyes. “Ay, slow your roll, I’m getting there.” He smiled at Joy like they were both in on the joke, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile. Gently, he shooed Atsali away, and glanced back at Joy. “I’m sure you know better than most that we were brought here against our will. But that includes all of us. Even our warden.” Stepping aside, he gave Joy a clear look at the warden. 

The woman shrunk in on herself, like she was trying to disappear. Something was so different in this little room. There was no longer anything untouchable about her. 

“Lee is like us. She wants to get out of here, but the False Goddess is strong,” said the man. “She’s clever, too. So we formed a resistance.” The word seemed to come to life as he spoke. 

“Resistance.” It spawned from Joy’s lips in turn, so sudden that she couldn’t stop herself. Fear, and subsequent shame at feeling so afraid, shot through her. Nephthys and Ixtab had warned her to be careful, and here she was, saying such a thing. In a room where people called Ariana a false goddess. She bit the inside of her cheek. “I…” her voice broke. She cleared her throat. “I have to be hallucinating. This isn’t real, right?” 

The desperation in her voice made her sick. The pitying looks from around the room made her sicker. But she couldn’t stop herself. 

“They give me so many drugs to make me see things. I’m crazy. I-I’m hallucinating!” 

Her vision blurred. Tears. God, she didn’t want to cry. Atsali approached her, waving off the man and one of the women from the medical staff. She bared her fingertip once more and pressed it to Joy’s hand. After the initial contact, Joy wasn’t forced into Atsali’s mind, but she went willingly, just to escape the gazes of the rebels. 

Glimpses of memories swam through her mind; beaches at sunrise and plush white comforters and holding hands with a man as they were both covered in blood. But the memory settled on a quiet living room. Atsali—whose eyes Joy saw out of—stepped towards a sofa. Curled up on it was a pale girl whose only resemblance to Joy was her sorrow. She buried her face into the plushie she held like a life ring: a black cat with a blue ribbon around its neck. 

“Please just go.” 

“I won’t,” said Atsali. “Because I love you. Whatever you think everyone thinks about you, you’re wrong. Something bad happened to you and you’re having a hard time. Let us help you, darling.” She went on to list other people who cared for the girl, but Joy couldn’t focus. Outside the living room windows, memories rushed past. They demolished the room like a tsunami. 

The warden, in a bedroom, her head in her hands: “He’s killing me. Every touch, every look, every time he calls me that name.” The beginning of a migraine planted itself behind Joy’s right eye. The mummy-wrapped woman, holding Atsali’s black-suited hand: “You’re not dead, and I know that, but you’re like a fucking ghost, Cyn.” Joy tried to blink, but she couldn’t.

A man, his old-fashioned spectacles glinting in the light of a kerosene lamp: “There’s always a way out. You just have to find it.” Pain flared. Joy grit her teeth. 

And again, in more modern clothes: “What is it you say?” 

Atsali answered as Joy suddenly felt like someone was squeezing her skull like a grape. 

“I’d rather just burn the whole thing down.” “Yeah, don’t do that.” The sentence “We need the seer if we’re going to get out,” was written on a piece of paper, then burned. 

Joy sobbed with relief as she emerged from Atsali’s mind. Atsali scrambled for the board and wrote “SORRY” in big block letters. She waved it repeatedly for emphasis, but Joy just held her head, waiting for the pain to ebb away. 

“What did you do?!” asked the woman on the medical staff. Atsali was gesturing nonsensically as she tried to write out an explanation. Joy shook her head. “I’m okay. It just…it hurt. But it doesn’t anymore.” 

Skeptical, the medic started to give her the workup. 

“Why me?” Joy asked Atsali. The warden answered first. 

“You’re the only person we trust who’s been to her palace.” Bile rose in Joy’s throat. “So I’m a tool?” “No,” answered the man who’d been so nice. “We’re trying to help as many people as we can, but to do that, we need to make a decisive move. We need to strike the False Goddess where it hurts: her home.” She could see the logic in it, although it felt just as shitty. The medic drew back, satisfied, and Joy tugged down her long sleeves. 

“If I help you…I need you to look for someone here. I want to talk to her first.” “Anyone,” agreed one of the rebels. Atsali nodded. 

“Her name is Kalyani. She’s a devi who might use a scythe. And…” she tried to keep her voice steady. “I think they took her eyes.” The nauseating vision she’d had months ago of Kalyani’s beautiful star-white eyes rolling around in a jar of formaldehyde came back to her, and she wrapped her arms around herself. 

The others looked expectantly at a college-aged man who’d already whipped out some kind of magical iPad. He tapped so fast that the reflection in his glasses seemed to shake. 

“Devi…blind…” he murmured. “Ah, yeah, here she is. Petala, Temple of Demeter.” 

“That makes sense,” commented the mummy woman. “I knew she was blind, but she’s been using fans, not a scythe. She’s damn good with them.” Hearing her speak longer, Joy realized she had a New York accent. It was nice to know she wasn’t the only American here, she supposed. The first man chuckled, folding his arms across his chest. “You only remember her because she almost beat you.” “Cyn, get this idiot outta my face before I stab him.” Atsali’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. 

“Cyn?” Joy asked. “Oh, yeah, her real name isn’t Atsali. That’s just her stage name, y’know? We all have them.” Joy blushed. It made sense, but she hadn’t really thought about it. Most of the times she’d been taken to the arena, she’d been too sick to even second-guess things like that. 

“We’ll do introductions when you’re in our ranks,” said the medic, shooting everyone a cross look. “If talking to Petala will help you make up your mind, let’s get you to her.” 

The others didn’t even look embarrassed. 

Atsali volunteered herself to accompany Joy by moving back towards her, but nearly everyone in the room protested. Instead, the first man was chosen, which secretly relieved Joy. She wasn’t sure that she could handle much longer with Atsali and her whiteboard. 

The man led Joy out of the basement. He smiled at her again, and it would’ve been reassuring if they were anywhere else, but the prospect of seeing Kalyani suddenly felt…real. She was trying not to cry. 

The building they were in must’ve been pretty. In the dark, it was largely just a blur of shadow, but occasional slices of moonlight illuminated walls painted in sumptuous jewel tones, depicting all the myths that Joy didn’t know. 

“You didn’t blindfold me,” Joy realized as they got to the ground floor. 

“We have to go a longer distance than you went with Atsali,” he explained, unfastening the patterned cloak he wore. “And unfortunately, I think you’ll have to use your power to enter my mind before we leave.” He did look genuinely sorry about it. “I thought you were probably tired of an audience.” 

Joy nodded, holding back a sigh. “They call me Topaz, but my name is Painal.” “I’m Joy,” she told him, extending her hand. He rolled his shoulders, and squeezed his eyes shut, murmuring something in another language. When he reached out for her, she plunged into his mind like a car with faulty brakes. 

From a sofa on a breezy veranda, Joy saw a city that could’ve put Olympus to shame. The blue sky bled into a golden sunrise, setting the entire city alight. Every building seemed to be accented with gold, studded with jade, and painted with vibrant hues of azure and turquoise and red. Red, like the drink in Painal’s hands. He drank, and the bitterness filled Joy’s senses, complimented perfectly by the tastes of honey and vanilla. 

The taste still lingered as she returned to the dark room. “Did that hurt?” he asked immediately, looking worried. “No, it was fine. Atsali only hurt because she just has so many memories. It happens sometimes,” said Joy. He nodded sagely. “That makes sense, I guess.” 

“You’re some kind of god, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Some kind,” he agreed. “Let’s get going. We need to get you back to your room before sunrise.” He whipped the cloak like a bedsheet, and it fell over them. “We stay under this, and no one can see us. Just keep close to me.” There was just enough room for them to both be in the cloak’s folds, but Joy still ended up with her hand on Painal’s elbow as he led them out of the building. It was bigger than she’d thought it was, and in front of it was a nearly-empty fountain. Nine statues held an assortment of items that occasionally dripped with water: a flute, a pair of masks, an astrolabe. Their heads had been knocked off. 

Joy was tugged along by Painal. He seemed to have a knack for avoiding the guards, though they wound around the temples and palaces to do so. Most of them, like the building Joy lived in, had been turned into housing for the fighters. Gold and marble statues had been desecrated by the invaders, and most structures had a similar fate. 

She guessed that the building they approached was once covered in plants, but now, it was a mass of withering leaves atop worn and dirty stone. Painal effortlessly found a back door, and pulled a few skinny tools from something like a fanny pack that was partially hidden under the top of his tunic.

“Can you believe the warden won’t let us borrow her keys?” he whispered with a laugh. “We have to pick them.” She was familiar with the little clicking sounds the process made, but they felt so loud in the night. When the door creaked as Painal eased it open, she just about swore. 

“I wish Eliud would’ve told us which room,” sighed Painal. He reached into his pack and produced an honest-to-god flashlight. Its beam lingered long enough on each door to read the numbers on them. Joy couldn’t have told you what each of them meant, but he apparently could. On the first floor, in the corner of the temple, was Kalyani’s room. Painal took the cloak off of them as he closed the door behind Joy and himself. He shone the flashlight on Kalyani’s bed. 

Joy was afraid Kalyani would scream or otherwise startle and alert the whole house, which would in turn alert the guards, but her friend only stirred gently. She sat up like a nighttime invasion was scheduled in her stupid leather-bound planner. 

“I was wondering when you would come,” she said softly. Her black hair used to be shiny and smooth. It moved like water once, but now, it was limp and dry around her brown face. A strip of fabric was affixed over her eyes. Pink. Pink wasn’t Kal’s color. 

“You expected us?” Painal asked, confused.

“Word spreads, even outside of the big leagues. You’re lucky everyone hates the warden and her man.” And then Kalyani cut straight to the point, as was her way. “I want to join the resistance.” 

Running a hand through his dark hair, Painal let out something resembling both a laugh and a sigh. “Well, that’s good to know, but that’s not why I’m here.” 

Kalyani frowned. 

“I’m why,” Joy said, as quiet as her emotions would allow. Kalyani moved from the bed in an instant, hugging Joy. 

Knowing what was coming didn’t make it easier. She was Kal, shouting at herself to get under Ray’s big mahogany desk. There was an earthquake. Kalyani had tried to hold up the roof of the office by morphing, unleashing her extra arms like she only did when things were really bad. But before anything could happen, there was that bright white light, and it was all gone. 

“Priye. Oh, thank God, you’re alive, priye.” She felt the ends of Joy’s braids, the curve of her jaw, the tops of her shoulders, like she was trying to convince herself it was really Joy. Joy couldn’t help it; she cried. 

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffed. “Y-your eyes…” Kalyani shook her head. “Don’t worry about me. Did they hurt you?” “Yeah,” Joy choked out. “They did.”