#unidentified deity

[tsalmu]

Terracotta plaque of Unidentified Deity (Goddess?) Emar / Tell Meskene, Syria c. 1200 BCE

[achrom-maticism]

posting one random quote from my flight rising lore notes that is unnecessarily snarky or makes no sense without context every day because i don't have anything else of value to contribute: day 3

We now watch in confusion as more and more of these dragons in a game about dragons turn out to be literally anything but.

[portraitofalinkonfyre]

Melted

Pairing: Fierce Deity x Reader

Warning(s): smut :))

Notes: Writing this in honor of the 105 degree heat I had to endure a week ago. Also Fierce might be a bit OOC but I want my sexy daddy rn

Masterlist

It was so damn hot.

Blistering heat swept across your skin, practically glowing from the thin layer of sweat, and you sat on the porch and considered your life choices. It was just your luck that your AC decided to die on you in the dead of summer, which is why you were outside in some booty shorts and a bikini top, hair up and popsicle practically down your throat.

"Jewel?" A voice rumbled from the depths of your home, and the Fierce Deity stepped onto the porch, the wood creaking under his impressive bulk. He stopped short as soon as he caught sight of you, eyes wide with some unidentifiable emotion that you were positive had to do something with your current state of (un)dress. Not that you were particularly impressed when you caught sight of his fashion choices.

"Okay, I know you're a god, but how can you wear that," you gestured incredulously to the full set of armor he was sporting. "Why can't you melt like the rest of us?"

The deity gave a short laugh, moving to sit beside you. "I was not aware you would prefer that, though perhaps I can offer an..." his tone deepened. "alternative."

You raised an eyebrow and delivered a sharp, slurp-y suck to your popsicle. There was no way in hell you were going to fuck in this heat, not when you were positive a warm breeze would send you into cardiac arrest. "Nice try, but I fancy my life."

For a second, you could have sworn his expression turned pouty, but it was quickly replaced with a small grin. It was rare to see him so... carefree (even if he was hinting to having sex on the hottest fucking day of the year), and you almost felt inclined to humor him. Almost.

"Of course, but I have taken the liberty of exploring your territory," back was the feral glint in his pupil-less eyes. "are you aware of the springs on the eastern border?"

Aside from the fact that he talked like everything was a military campaign, he did have a point. The only problem was that the neighboring children didn't consider your 'territory' as private as he did, and you had no doubt they were there now. "Thanks, but I don't feel like exposing myself to a bunch of children," you snarked, finishing off your popsicle with one last hearty slurp, blind to how the deity's eyes immediately snapped to watch the spectacle with rapt attention. "Now, we could fill my bathtub with ice cubes, but I doubt you'll fit."

"Inconceivable," was Fierce's deadpan response, and you wondered if letting him watch The Princess Bride was a bad idea.

"Exactly," you flicked the wooden stick into the trashcan and wobbled to your feet. "Welp, I'm going to get naked and hope my skin peels off so I can be cool."

It was almost funny how alarmed he looked at your statement. "You will do nothing of the sort, my vow—"

"It's a joke, it's a joke!" you interjected before he could go all guard dog on you. "The heat's not doing any favors to either of us right now."

A hand sealed itself over your wrist, preventing you from stumbling inside like you hoped. You raised your eyebrow at the deity currently holding you captive, waiting to see if he would explain himself or if it was time for you break out the mom(tm) voice again.

"You need not worry about the children, they would not dare disturb you in my presence."

Of course he had threatened the children. It was to be expected that, whether intentional or not, the Fierce Deity was an imposing figure, and you had no doubt that it had taken nary a cold glance to send those poor kids running for the hills. You pinched your temples with your free hand at the very thought of another encounter with the HOA on the basis of the seven foot deity stalking your land at night. "Oh my god, please tell me you didn't chase them out."

"I did not have to," intoned the deity, as if that made it any better. "They left as soon as the leader caught sight of me."

And by 'left', you just knew he meant 'ran screaming for the hills'. "Fierce..."

"That is my name."

You deadpanned. "No shit, Sherlock."

"That is... not my name."

You were done. Tugging halfhearted in his hold, you whined. "C'mon man, it's too hot for this—"

Without warning, the Fierce Deity rose to his feet, practically casting a shadow over your sweltering form, and hoisted you, butt first, over his shoulder in one quick motion. You gasped in outrage, fists banging on the back of his armor, which did no damage whatsoever. "H-Hey! Put me down!"

Was this really happening? You were half-convinced a fever dream had taken hold of your sanity, because while Fierce was, well, fierce, he definitely wasn't the type to throw you down somewhere and make love to you... or was he? You could count the number of 'encounters' you'd had with the deity on one hand, as you relationship hadn't developed in that way until recently, and he had always waited for you to initiate, though you weren't dense enough to miss the way he glanced back at you with an expression with absolute want. Clearly, this display was him coming out of his metaphorical shell, and you were so here for it. Not that you weren't going to give him a run for his money first.

"Fierce!" You kicked your feet, though they didn't go far with the protective arm slung over the backs of your thighs. "Fierce, are you listening?"

"No," responded the deity honestly. "You would have used the phrase if you truly wanted me to stop."

Fuck, he had you there. You had been the one to suggest a safe word in the early hours of your newfound 'relationship', and Fierce quickly agreed. Though the word 'vow' had entered the conversation, it was quickly shot down, with the deity explaining that his vow to you was a sacred, unbreakable thing, and he had no wish to sully it. You were fairly sure him fucking your brains out wouldn't do that, but relented quickly when you realized just how serious he was.

"That doesn't mean I can't be annoyed with you," you snarked, though it was more playful than anything. Your house had long since disappeared as you traveled further into the forest, though it was hard to tell just how far he had taken you.

"That is why I shall never cease to adore you."

"I, what—" You squawked in abject embarrassment despite the fact that you had seen each other naked multiple times. "Y-You can't just say stuff out of the blue like that!"

"Inconceivable," came the second movie reference of the day. "I would never utter an untruth to you."

The fuck? Sure, he liked call you his treasure when he was balls deep, and there was no shortage of affection from him when you found yourself alone together, but you'd hardly expected such a stoic man to... well, it was as if he was trying to fluster you!

And, by god, was it working. Heat rushed through every part of your body at the thought of him taking control for the first time in, well, forever. Initiating was your thing, but now...

With a face redder than a beet, you muttered. "You better carry me back, dick."

You yelped when something distinctly close to a hand came down on your left ass cheek, not hard enough to hurt, but it got your attention all the same. "I intend to," came the deity's smug promise as you grappled with the fact that he had just smacked your ass.

Before you could muster a response to the insanity that had just occurred, Fierce pushed past a gaggle of branches--making sure they didn't smack you in the process, which was honestly the sweetest--and marched into the clearing where the hot springs resided. You waited patiently for him to set you down, regarding the bubbling spring with thoughtful consideration. The water was cool, that much you were sure of, and the area was blissfully empty of squawking children.

"...You may be on to something here."

A chuckle rumbled from Fierce's mouth, and he began to remove his armor. You froze as his breastplate and tunic came off, revealing miles of battle-scarred skin, glistening temptingly in the blazing sun, then scrambled to remove your shorts the second he undid his belt, because damn if you weren't going to get a piece of that. "You're such a bad influence," you teased, tossing your shorts to the way side as his leggings flew to the ground below. While you had the foresight to put on a pair of swim bottoms, the deity had done no such thing, standing naked before you without a care in the world. You were glad to see him so confident, even though it was wholeheartedly unexpected. "Scaring kids so we can play hooky."

But Fierce wasn't fazed, marching forward to scoop you up once again. You laughed in surprise, arms falling around his neck, legs wrapped around his very naked waist, as an arm came under your ass to support you. "I live to serve," rumbled the deity softly, and you pecked his lips with a cheeky grin.

"I know."

You giggled when he entered the spring, tall enough that no water reached you for a few steps. You wiggled out of his grasp as soon as the water touched your bum, paddling away happily in the blissfully chilly spring. The deity made no move to grab you, standing waist-deep with his arms crossed over his delicious chest. You began to tread, swiveling your body to face his. "Isn't it nice?"

Fierce offered you the ghost of a smile, though the softness in his eyes said what he didn't. "It is."

Still treading, you continued: "You know how to swim?"

He nodded, expression flashing to something more grave. "How am I to protect you without?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Chuckling, you paddled back over, leaving a trail of bubbles in your wake, hands outstretched like a child. The Fierce Deity caught you under the arms, pulling you close. His skin was cool, and you snuggled closer, practically purring... until something very familiar poked your prone thigh.

You bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat in your abdomen that had absolutely nothing to do with the weather. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you quipped: "Is that a sword or are you just happy to see me?"

Fierce's large hands slid down to cup your rear, covered only by the thin fabric of your swim bottoms. His expression seemed to darken when you arched slightly into his touch

"Fierce..." you breathed, running your hands over his broad shoulders as his hardness slid against your core, and it was then that the deity chose to capture your lips in a searing kiss, pulling you impossibly close. You moaned into his mouth, water rushing past your bare sides as he backed you against a conveniently-placed rock at the edge of the spring. He pressed you to them, deepening the kiss as you pawed at his shoulders.

"--Wait," you all but gasped when he broke the kiss. The Fierce Deity froze, hands stilling. His gaze never left your face, studying your panicked expression as he waited for you to speak. "--What if someone sees?"

A hand came up to stroke your cheek, tender enough that you scarcely believed it had happened in the first place. "No one shall disturb us," your deity soothed, but you knew that if you truly wished it, he would stop without so much as a complain. It was simply how he was.

You chewed the inside of your cheek, averting your eyes for a split second. It wasn't that you didn't believe him, but there was something so taboo about enjoying each other in such a public space. Gaze flitting back to him, you whispered: "...Promise?"

"I vow it," was his response, so sincere that you could have cried. Heart swelling, you gave a shy nod and pulled him in for another blistering kiss. The Fierce Deity's reaction was slow, but purposeful, as his hands stroked up and down your sides, eventually sliding upwards to hold your cheeks. Your legs tightened around his waist, bringing you impossibly closer to his rock hard dick. You broke the kiss, offering him a small, cheeky grin that coincided perfectly with the slow roll of your hips. The tips of the deity's ears pinked and you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched. "I guess you are excited to see me."

Instead of responding, he dove for your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point gently. You whimpered, chin tilting up for better access. His hands roamed back down to your sides, noticeably cautious, and you realized why when they cupped your breasts, thumbs stroking your pebbled nipples through your bikini top.

"Fierce!" You quivered as his tongue lathed over your neck, peppering the trembling skin with featherlight kisses. It didn't matter that you had done this before--it was amazing every time. He tweaked a nipple carefully and you broke. "Ah!"

Your hands grabbed hold of his stark white hair, tugging softly as you struggled to contain yourself. Your back arched when one of his hands slid across your spine to untie your top, tossing it aside as soon as the fabric slackened enough to be pulled off, baring your breasts to the open air. You shivered, half from the chill and half from the intensity of his stare, as though he would never get tired of you.

Almost reverently, the Fierce Deity dipped his head, taking a nipple in his hot mouth. You threw your head back when he rolled the other one between two thick fingers, plucking the tender bud hard enough to make you squeal. His gaze snapped to your face, drinking in every single one of your reactions with such a starstruck glint in his eyes that you could hardly stand to hold his burning look.

"Please," you whimpered, unsure of what you were actually asking for. Maybe it was his body, pressed closer than you could ever imagine, or maybe it was his soul, practically cradled in the palm of your hand. You felt as though would die for those eyes, gazing up at you with more emotion than you knew what to do with. "Fierce..."

Maybe it was the way you said his name, or the way you looked above him, face flushed a deep cherry as you panted for breath, but the Fierce Deity released your nipple to press a sweet kiss to the top of your left breast, directly over your beating heart. A soft gasp left you when his hands cupped your ass and he lifted you onto the rock, laying you down like you were the deity in this relationship.

You craned your neck to watch him settle between your legs, face to face with your undoubtedly soaked swim bottoms. Calloused hands stroked your hips, but Fierce didn't go further, staring at you with a questioning gaze. The tips of his fingers grazed the waistband, and his voice practically rumbled through you.

"May I?"

It warmed your heart that, even now, he was still this soft, this gentle with you, always asking before going further. Every one of his touches was a question that you were all too eager to answer, practically trembling with anticipation. "Go ahead," you whispered, shooting him a dazzling smile. Your swim bottoms were abruptly removed, but you didn't find it in yourself to care when his mouth immediately sealed over your throbbing pussy, delivering a strong suck that had you clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. A sort of growl reverberated through you and the Fierce Deity was immediately above you, gently removing your hand and pinning it to the stone with his own. The head of his dick pulsed against your entrance, but you weren't able to appreciate it when your chin was abruptly grabbed.

"No," rumbled the deity in a tone that reminded you of the distant crack of thunder, so close that you could feel his breath against your face. "I want to hear you."

You could have cum at that very moment.

Holy. Shit.

You could only manage a wobbly nod, jaw nearly at the floor, and he scooted back down, giving you a pointed look before lacing your fingers with his, holding your hands at your stomach as he reacquainted himself with your swollen clit, suckling the throbbing bud with enough force to make you moan louder that you had in your life. After a few seconds, he pulled back, tongue flicked against the small nub before he dover down to absolutely devour your dripping cunt. Your hips attempted to buck at the overwhelming pleasure, but they didn't go far with your arms in the way. You yelped as that godly tongue licked a stripe from base to clit, then diving down do slurp at the slick of your entrance. If there was any hope of you holding your moans back before, there certainly wasn't now, even as you twisted and shivered. Even so, there was no reprieve from that glorious mouth of his as he chased your every which way, rumbling lowly against your lips when you moved a bit too harshly.

"Fuck, Fierce–" you wailed as the coil in your belly tightened more and more, drawing you closer to the precipice of orgasm than you thought possible. it was all too obvious that he definitely wasn't human, and you were living for it. "Oh god, I'm going to–"

You finished the sentence with a shrill cry when he released one of your hands to push two thick fingers into your pussy, crooking at just the right angle that–paired with the sharp, all-consuming suck he delivered to your clit–made you quite literally see stars as your orgasm crashed into you like a speeding train. Your body shook, back arching with wild abandon, as you screamed your release to the bright, blue sky, too far gone to care whether anyone saw you or not.

Fierce released you when the tremors stopped, removing his fingers from your overstimulated cunt, though it wasn't for long, as he had you in his arms before your knees could drop from their folded position, cradling you to his naked chest as he made his way to shore, carefully sitting against a stone beside the bank with you in his lap, head buried in the center of his chest.

"Are you alright?" came his concerned rumble, and you couldn't help but chuckle, lifting your head to deliver a swift kiss to his chin.

"Have I ever told you how lucky I am to have you?" you asked softly, pushing some hair from your sweaty forehead.

"Many times," answered the deity with a small smile, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. He tasted sweet, a bit musky, and you couldn't imagine anything better... until you registered the pulsing penis–large and thick, wreathed in trimmed white hair that most definitely matched the drapes–settled against your aching cunt. It was sweet that he was giving you time to recover, but you wanted that in you now.

"Fierce," you moaned, rocking your hips slowly into his dick. A soft groan was your answer, and his hands were at your hips, guiding you up. Panting, you took him in hand, bringing the tip to rest snuggly between your drooling folds, angling yourself to that the appendage brushed heavily against the base of your clit, eliciting a shiver and moan.

Something dark glinted in the deity's stark eyes for a split second, but you didn't dwell on it when he began to push you down on his cock; slowly, as to not harm you, but there was definitely an insistent edge to his guidance that you couldn't help but notice. That, combined with the subtle clenching of his jaw, was all you needed to know on the subject. Gathering your strength, you sealed your hands on his shoulders and slid all the way down in one fell swoop, drawing a surprised gasp of your name from Fierce himself. You knew he wasn't much of a talker during sex, which was why moments like this were so damn delicious.

Gathering your strength, you began to bounce with reckless abandon, drawing more grunts from your lover as he grappled with the newfound pleasure. He always did what was good for you, which made returning the favor all the more overdue.

"Does that– huff, feel good?" You asked between bounces, making sure your grin was as cheeky as could be, reaching up to grasp handfuls of his hair. You tugged gently, forcing him to bend down for a sweet, sweet kiss. His hands tightened on your hips, but no move was made to restrain you, so you continued like your life depended on it, moaning softly as the head of his dick caressed that spongey spot within you with every swooping thrust. "You're always– haa, fuck, doing things for me, s-so I'm going to return the–...ohhh god, favor."

Time seemed to meld together when he kissed you, tongues swirling together in a dance only known to the two of you. The Fierce Deity wasn't a man of many words, but you felt his devotion in the way he pulled you close, his desire as his hand snaked down to play with your swollen bud of a clit, and his love in the way he looked at you with absolute, unadulterated adoration.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were in love with Fierce , which is why you reached beneath you to fondle his balls, large and heavy, in a featherlight caress, drawing another half-moan from the depths of his throat. You joined the chorus when the coil in your abdomen began to tighten once again under his careful ministrations. Your hips and thighs burned as you struggled to keep pace, huffing and puffing as determination flashed in your eyes. he did so much for you, so how could you not return–

As if on cue, Fierce's hands returned to the sides of your hips, gripping your love handles with a conviction. His legs, once straight, curved as he planted his feet on the ground and delivered a harsh thrust into you that had you screaming like a maniac. Over and over, he pounded into your poor pussy, rocking your very soul as you fought for stability, arching your chest into his own, which he told advantage of in the form of his mouth closing in on a bobbing nipple, sucking deftly as he practically hollowed you from the inside out. A myriad of whimpers left your throat, raw from all the yelling, but there was nothing you could do but scratch your nails down his biceps, crying your pleasure to the sky above.

It was then that your climax hit you with the force of a tsunami. You threw your head back with a half-sob when he slammed your hips to his own, holding you in place as you thrashed and babbled in overwhelming pleasure, eventually wandering up to control your upper body so he could press gentle kisses and bites onto your tender flesh. One thrust later and scalding cum filled your overstimulated, drooling pussy, but you were far too gone to react with anything other than a soft moan.

Exhausted, you allowed yourself to fall back into his chest, heaving with exertion. The Fierce Deity held you close, and you simply existed there for a few precious moments, drinking in each other's presence. It was only when his hands stroked over your spine, eliciting several shivers, did you find your voice again.

"W-Wait, I need a–" you tried to sit up–mildly panicked at the thought of him wanting to go again–but a gentle hand kept you down. "–I need a break."

"I know," came your lover's comforting rumble. He sounded weary, but you knew it wouldn't last; he was a god, after all. "How do you feel?"

"Fucked," you snarked tiredly, earning yourself a tender swat to the ass that felt more like a caress than anything. "I'm joking– I'm tired."

"I can tell," sneered the deity, hands coming under your armpits. You did your best impression of a rag doll as he lifted you off his massive dick, standing up and cuddling your prone form to his chest. You loosely wrapped an arm around his thick neck, black spots dancing in your vision when he bent to retrieve his clothes and yours. "Sleep, my dove."

And who were you to refuse? With a sleepy rumble, you pecked his shoulder once more and allowed sleep to take you.

The next morning, there was a note on your front door.

You had awoken in your bedroom, satisfyingly sore, to one of Wild's patented omelets on your nightstand. You grabbed the accompanying fork and ate the still warm creation before traipsing down the stares to greet the boys, though not before exchanging the large tunic placed over you for some regular clothes, because while you loved wearing Fierce's clothes, you had some sense when it came to the other men in the house knowing of your... escapades with the deity, who was nowhere to be found. Time informed you that he was 'out', which was code for 'likely doing something illegal because no one wanted to fight him', but it was far too early to deal with whatever bullshit that scenario would bring.

You saw the note–which was really just a sad piece of notebook paper taped to the center of your door–after getting the mail. Puzzled, you retrieved it, tucked the mail under your arm, and nearly dropped everything when you read the blasted thing.

It was a note from your neighbor, Cindy, a middle-aged woman with either two or three kids–you had fallen out with her after she caught the Fierce Deity stalking over her property line in the dead of night–informing you that your guard dog had struck once again and she was calling the police if she saw his 'satanic cosplayer ass' again.

After taking a moment to gather your bearings–and once again contemplate the insanity your life had become, you crumpled the note, opened your mouth, and bellowed: "FIERCE DEITY!"

That's a wrap! I hope y'all enjoyed the product of my conversation with @h4wari. I'll do edits tomorrow so feast on this unedited sin.

Tag List:

@ash-staff

[alatismeni-theitsa]

In "KAOS" nothing is anything, and everything is wrong

Two disclaimers: I am no stranger to modern art, and I have no issue with queerness in shows, or in my own mythology (I'm Greek). I am also aware that KAOS is a comedy. It's in the gutter of British comedy, but still part of the genre. At least I laughed every time they said "Oh God!". I don't believe this is the same person who wrote the great and amusing "End of the F**king World"! The premise of "The gods in our modern world" appeals to me a lot, so that wasn't my problem either. My general issue with KAOS is its horrible delivery, bad writing, and piss-poor Greek representation.

This is gonna be long and full of stupid gifs, so sit comfortably, grab a coffee or some popcorn and... pame!

The "ILoveGreekMythology" Kid

Art without context is just a pretty thing to look at. Most of the time, this context can be found within the art piece itself, as the artist has taken care to weave it in. KAOS refuses to connect itself to any context besides the names and a few vague powers. It aims to exist outside of those "boring old stories of the Greek myth" and be entirely "fresh and modern". Something impossible when the entire show and the meanings are based on ancient recorded material. In other words, KAOS is so meta that it ends up being nothing. KAOS cannot stand on its own because you need more than the viewers being familiar with the Greek myth basics to pull such a show off.

KAOS tells us "See? I know all the names of the gods, and what they did, and I know all the locations, so I am qualified to tackle this". More or less like any Western kid who takes all their knowledge from PJO and Marvel and proceeds to unironically hate ancient deities and make a girlboss out of Medusa.

Here's a Greek word for you guys, ημιμάθεια, meaning "half-knowledge". Α Greek saying very well declares "Half-knowledge is worse than no knowledge". The confidence of thinking you know enough often leads you to grave mistakes whereas the humility of not knowing prevents you from touching shit that you shouldn't. When you have no idea what the original myth is trying to say and spit on its meaning, knowing a few names and locations is just smoke and mirrors. I don't believe the audience fell for that.

And don't get me started on the "subversions". A good subversion is intriguing and thought-provoking. In KAOS, every twist was hollow - Greek myth related or otherwise.

"What if Euridice doesn't love Orpheus?" I don't know, babe. What if??? What was the point of that? What did you show us? That women's stories are dominated by men and men don't listen to women, perhaps? And you chose to twist... the love story of Orpheus and Euridice to show this?? One of the best and most tragic love stories Greek mythology has to offer?? You just mocked the myth, you didn't make anything profound out of it.

The Greek Stuff (Nothing salvageable)

I was surprised to see they had a Consulting Producer (Georgia Christou) and an Assistant Script Editor (Isabella Yianni) who happen to be Greek. And I stress that because those people probably weren't hired or utilized for being Greek. We are not sure they were involved in cultural decisions because we have no evidence and because shows with no Greek elements can have more Greeks than that on their staff.

Okay, perhaps they took 5 seconds to ask Isabella about a greeting - which they proceeded to say in a wrong intonation 🙄🤌It's where Poseidon says "ya sás" in the Fates, by the way. How he said it sounds more like "for you (pl.)" than "health to you (pl.)".

Surprise! The only Greek actor present (Peter Polycarpou) has less than 5 minutes of screen time and plays the caricature of an immigrant with a thick (and inaccurate Greek) accent. He has a canteen, selling falafel which is not Greek, and Dionysus buys from him an unidentified tortilla wrap (which... is also not Greek, if you haven't caught up).

For the show they brought in actors of Maori, Nigerian and Sierra Leonean, Pakistani, Black American, Latvian-Jewish, Iranian, Egyptian, Indo-Fijian and Malay descent and you tell me it was impossible for them to seek and find an English-speaking, skilled actor of Greek descent in a show regarding Greek heritage. Sometimes I wonder, do y'all hate us so much?

They considered Greeks only to give us a simple (and wrong) greeting and a stereotype. Crumbs, we are supposed to be happy with. By the way, there are over 70.000 Greek immigrants just in the UK, usually in the urban centers, many of them students or fairly young employees in the corporate workforce. Not the largest minority but not hard to spot either.

Another plague of Anglophone shows: Almost everyone's Greek name is shortened. Yes, we know their full names but we are told that we will use the short ones. Greeks and their "long and difficult" names am I right fellas? Because saying "Ariadne" apparently requires 5 years of Greek language training, and no English word ever has more than two syllables.

Coincidentally, short names are cool in Anglophone imaginary universes and the "long" names are not. it's so strange Anglophones never make universes where it's cool for Greek names to be spoken in full hmmm... They don't even want to practice saying a whole Greek name for just 2 minutes in preparation for a show full of Greek names. And don't give me that "Greek is hard" shit when we only talk about a few syllables. If Greek kids can learn English since first grade and people here can sing English songs and spell English names, you have no excuse.

They also said the name "Fotis" means light, which is close enough but... ugh.. It's like saying Sebastian means "respect". I am not sure if they asked anyone or what their research was here. If I had the writers in front of me, I'd be like:

(This character from an all-time favorite Greek show is called Fotis)

They also made the flag of "Krete" an alteration of the Greek flag and the local Cretan flag. Which is the stupidest move, because they had to remove the religious symbol of the cross to make the flag fit the universe. These are flags created based on 1) Christianity 2) the Greek Revolution of 1821.

National Greek flag to the left, local Cretan flag to the right:

Flag of the KAOS' "Krete":

The only time they seriously took into account anything Greek, was the time when they decided to remove the religious symbol of our ethnoreligion AND (from what I could observe) keep the nine stripes?? The nine stripes of our national flag represent the syllables in "Freedom or Death". The colors are from the white foustanela of the mainland attire and the dark blue vraka of the island attire, the clothing of the Revolution fighters. (That's more of a meta explanation but the characteristics of the flag were decided during and nearly after the Revolution.)

I think I don't have to explain it more but it's not a homage to put the nine stripes in an ancient era where they have no meaning, and to replace a cross??? Let's... not replace religious symbols on national flags, okay? Thank you.

Another cultural element they changed was making everyone have a dedicated coin to pay Charon. Orpheus has Euridice's coin, "her coin", and he's meant to put it on her before she got buried. In Greek culture, any coin would do. Sorry that our culture restricts your script, dear writers. I guess you had to bend this too, in order to create a cohesive plot with a semblance of a twist.

Finally, the many "Kerberus" dogs were cute and I can understand the creative decision behind that. However, in a show full of inaccuracies, this made me roll my eyes a little. I think the showrunners know that Kerveros is not a breed of dog, and there can only be one of him because he doesn't have any other "Kerveros" to breed with. On the other hand, as demonstrated from art/writing on the internet, quite a lot of Westerners are not exactly aware of how our monsters work, so forgive my uncertainty 😅

Nothing is Anything

Every element KAOS played with ended up meaningless. In the words of a Lifo article:

“Zeus is a paranoid authoritarian dictator in mid-life crisis who fears losing his power and murders his aides to vent. Hera is a promiscuous goddess who repeatedly betrays Zeus and has mutilated mute priestesses for protection. Dionysos is a spoiled and immature zoomer who, apart from pranks, indulges in orgies with all genders. Poseidon a sadistic god of the sea, who tortures the crew on his ship for fun. Prometheus is gay and killed his lover so he could overthrow Zeus. Orpheus is a famous pop singer and Eurydice does not love him. Theseus is black and gay. The Erinyes are tough-as-nails mechs that look like they stepped out of ‘Sons of Anarchy’. The Fates resemble a three-member jury in a talent show. The Trojans are a terrorist group that acts against the gods. Crete is more reminiscent of California than the Mediterranean.”

The "River Styx" is a sea, the "River Lethe" is a lake, the gods are nothing more than spoiled humans, the Moirai are drag queens, the Cave is a club where you have to take a quiz to enter the underworld, and generally everything is modern, flat, mundane and anticlimactic. The producers aimed to achieve a work so meta that a "river" is now a concept, a metaphor, whatever you have in your heart. And those who want to see a river when we speak of a river are probably uncultured swines and don't understand postmodernism. Never mind that rivers are rivers in Greek mythology for a reason. That's not culturally interesting enough to explore compared to the new, cool approach of not assigning meaning to anything. That totally shows love for the original rich and meaningful material...

And the reason behind all this subversion? Probably the shock factor. They brought the characters to a point where they said "We have to save the world from Zeus" - Zeus! The father of gods, heroes and humans! - just because they could. It gives off a certain type of smugness that I personally don't like. I mean, I would like the smugness and cheekiness of KAOS if it wasn't a vapid and practically meaningless show. As nothing symbolizes anything anymore, we are just led from hollow plot point to hollow plot point.

If you cut it out of any cultural influence and see it as a story then it's... okay, I guess. But when you consider that it's meant to derive from certain material and it fails spectacularly, it's not a good story. It forgets its bases and doesn't play with the ancient elements at all. Disney's Hercules did it better, FFS!

Bad Writing (pt.1)

KAOS is not without recognizable themes but their demonstration is so juvenile and heavy-handed that it fails to influence a viewer of average intelligence. For instance, "Riddy" says to her religious mother "You dedicated your whole life to Hera, what about me?" Okay, KAOS, we get it. At the same time, this theme nulls itself because it turns out that Ridy's mother was right to do what she did, as she had a greater goal in mind. (And this, kiddos, is called Bad Writing, because your themes and scenes contradict each other)

The biggest theme I spotted was a criticism of religion and religious people who say "Do as I say, not as I do" and create exceptions for themselves. Only, it's not a criticism of anything real, in this case. It's a fact that some people in the clergy tend to preach peace and love and then they do harm, but we don't know, for example, that The Goddess of Marriage is a cheater and yet she pressures everyone into strict marriages. By focusing their wrath on divine beings who are not known for their hypocrisy, the creators missed the mark.

I can give KAOS props for how it handled Trojans to reflect real issues regarding how immigrants and war refugees are mistreated and blamed. I'd argue it was the only (nearly) well-done theme in the whole show because it had the least on-the-nose delivery and some genuine/serious scenes. But that's it.

More Bad Writing!

Jeff Goldblum's Zeus is shit. He'd crap his pants in an argument with a stern Greek dad/uncle his age. Is this character supposed to be intimidating? (Laughs in Mediterranean) That's not to say that Goldblum is not a good actor, but this role wasn't for him. The same can be said for the other actors, too. They are competent but they only give off the air of "The Greek gods if they lived in London, from the minds of people who think beards and body hair are an affliction". In addition to being misplaced, the actors cannot show their talent when following a script that resembles a children's book.

Why does THE GOD Dionysus have the maturity of a 15-year-old? I repeat, The God Dionysus. He's a freaking deity, and a very old one at that. He is not a teenager neither in appearance nor in experience. In our culture, he is mystical, mighty, wise. Why did they downgrade him so? Just for the plot? This is not Dionysus just because you named him so.

The dialogue rarely takes itself seriously to the point it has you wondering at times "Do people talk and behave like that?". In a comedy where everything is meant to be already extreme and parodied. Even in comedies, something must occasionally be serious so there is a healthy fluctuation in tone and the funny moments can hit you. In KAOS very few scenes treated their impactful dialogue as it should be treated.

The queerness and diversity (good elements, in general) were worse off for being in KAOS. Like, I want these elements to be there. I'm just sad about the whole situation. It's not enough that the show is shit, now you also give an additional reason for conservatives to shit on diverse and queer characters because they are part of a stupid narrative.

I'm the type of person who doesn't mind the queerness of Astyanax and Theseus being lovers in the context of this specific show but they're still the oddest pairing to me because they're from the most irrelevant myths and eras. Also, Astyanax in my mind is a baby who died tragically, for little reason if we are honest, so to bring him back and make him a love interest is... ekh.

In addition, isn't Astyanax supposed to be crippled after a fall from the city walls when he was a baby? Sorry to change subjects but the show is so convoluted and with so many issues that it's extremely difficult to stay on track with what's wrong.

To the person who thought this show was a good idea:

Whatever. Bye. I'm fucking done.

[yandereunsolved]

Hello there I don't know if you take requests or not but what if reader was a yandere instead of the Links

If you do more than one character in one fic or something can I request this with Time, Deity, wild, and four

Obsession Is In The Name - ,, yandere reader w/ (separate) Time, Fierce, Wild, & Four

cw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes, graphic gore

— Time —

✧ You most likely fell for him after he saved you. You weren't close to him during his journey—well,  not physically close, at least. You had stalked him while he was saving Hyrule. You'd do odd jobs and stock up on supplies to conveniently leave near him. You'd patch him up when he was sleeping and cuddle with him as well. It was like both of you were forbidden lovers because he is the hero and you are his devoted stalker.

✧ You are always there to valiantly defend him. After his toughest journey, you make sure to murder all those who question his ways. You read an awful prophecy on the walls of a temple that both of you visited on his journey. Sure, he wasn't aware you were there with him, but you both still visited together. That thought—the thought of him turning into some strange thing with bulky armor—only made you more protective. You became increasingly paranoid and sloppy in your killings.

✧ Which led you to murder Malon, Time's girlfriend. You carved her heart out of her chest and stabbed it until it was nothing more than unidentifiable chunks of flesh. You dumped her body in some deep, murky lake water. She deserved it! That bitch deserved it. You wanted to dig your eyes out of your skull whenever you saw the two of them together. You just couldn't handle it anymore. She must be the reason he turns into the Hero's Shade. She doesn't give him a worthy offspring to teach. She doesn't help him spread the news of his heroic adventures. She doesn't watch over him and protect him when the nights grow long and the cold nips at his figure. You had to save him from her and himself. He didn't really love her. She was just a substitute for you. After all, if the hero is so busy protecting everyone else, who will protect him?

✧ Ganondorf saw that in you. He saw your obsession as something he could use to corrupt you. This wasn't Time's Ganondorf. This was another version of him. One in a dimension that was trying to take over every other time line. You were initially disgusted when he invaded your dreams. He was clearly trying to manipulate you into joining his side. You were livid at the thought of betraying Time. So you killed him! You crossed dimensions just so when he woke up, you could be above him. There was a look that was so crazed in your eyes that it would rival the one seen in Cia's toward Warriors. 

You didn't feel bad either. He was simply scum. You were helping this different Hyrule. Their Link would surely be grateful for you. Even if this version of Link didn't know it, it was you who mercilessly slaughtered Ganon. Each of his body parts put on spikes of Hyrule Castle, as a reminder, no version of Ganondorf may touch your Link.

✧ You came back after a while. You aren't sure how long. The whole dimension-hopping thing isn't as easy as it looks. You look for Link, and you can't find him. You call out Time, Link, baby, sweetheart, darling, and no one answers. An acidic, bitter feeling rises in your throat. It feels as if someone shoved a bunch of hot Goron coals down your throat.

You don't sleep that night. You can't.

You run around in a crazed manner for the next few weeks. You threaten anyone you can get your hands on. You make sacrifices for whomever will listen. As long as its name isn't Ganon or Ganondorf, you would align. 

You were on your way to some hidden temple to try and sacrifice something to an evil deity when you slipped and fell into a portal. You weren't even able to scream. It was cut short as you ended on top of your Time, your Link, your love until the end of time itself.

✧ You became acquainted with the other versions of him. Awe doesn't even begin to describe how you were feeling or how you continue to feel at this absolute miracle. You found him, and there are other hims. Time was much more concerned than astounded. He was frantically checking over you, worried that a villager he had only spoken to a handful of times got dragged into this mess. So what if he only sees you as a villager right now? He's just pretending. He loves you! He's smothering you in attention and concern. 

He even gets the one Link, Hyrule, to give you a health examination. You weren't exactly thrilled to be separated from him for a short period of time, but it was because your Link cares, so it's okay.

✧ You grow closer to Time, and he even allows you to call him Link in private! You get to see him out of his armor, and you aren't even stalking him! It's a gift from the golden three, for sure. He has such well-defined muscles and an athletic body, even after all the hits and illnesses he has been through. 

He is protective of you. He doesn't allow monsters to kill you. He doesn't allow the other Links to question or offend you. He even threatened Legend once after Legend got aggressive with you because you broke one of those trinkets of his! You did it on purpose, but Time doesn't have to know that.

✧ That is just one of the ways you keep the other versions of Link away from you. You walk the fine line between polite and rude, caring and vicious, towards all of them except for Time and, oddly enough, Twilight. You enjoy his pleasant company. It almost feels as if he is kin to you. You have the same inclinations around him as you do around your Link, except in a more platonic manner.

You like it.

Getting rid of Malon was worth it. There's no way Time is going to turn into that hideous monster. Learning that Twilight is a descendent of Time only affirms your past agrecious behavior. You must have started a family with him! Twilight may literally be kin to you.

✧ You still threaten anyone outside of The Chain. It is an instinct for you. You had to slip up one of these days. You did, and you regret it. Link found you midway into murdering someone who had flirted with him. You didn't feel any remorse for the person, only remorse that Link now felt conflicted. 

It won't stop you from committing these vile acts in the future, even if he asks you to. Sometimes your darling is wrong, and that's okay. That's why you are here—to protect him and save him from when he is wrong.

✧ He chose to confront you about your strange tendencies in private. When he questioned you, you confessed. He recoiled with disgust in his eyes. He thought of you as a child who needed to be guided. You needed to be saved from yourself. Why couldn't you see that?

"I see myself as your guardian. You can't simply throw around the word 'love' to get out of the consequences for your actions."

Throw around the word?

Oh, no, no, no, no.

YOU DIDN'T JUST USE THE WORD! YOU LOVE HIM MORE THAN HE HATES THE MOON. YOU HAVE SEEN HIM AT HIS WORST, AND STILL YOU LOVE HIM. YOU HAVE KILLED AND TORTURED AND DONE UNSPEAKABLE THINGS FOR HIM.

He thinks of you as a child?

If anything, he is the child.

✧ Perhaps Legend could finally be of use after all. You simply stole a few potions, tweaked a few things after learning magical cooking from Wild, and voilà, a love-inducing amnesiac potion was invented. You mixed it in with some Hylian dressing and made sure that he had some on his salad one night. 

Look!

The hearts in his eyes—you can practically see them. He now loves you just as you love him! You'll deal with The Chain, do everything, and then go back to your Hyrule. You'll settle down with him, and everything will be perfect. You have your Link. He's your happy ending. Just you and him, until the end of time.

— Fierce —

☾ Fierce has known you since the beginning. So the first time that spark of obsessive love appeared in your eyes, he knew. You are his devoted follower. You are the only one allowed to live and guard their temple. He was indifferent to your existence at first. He has had many mortals fall to their knees and beg him for his seed within them—womb or not. Yet none have stayed with him through their most vulnerable and weakest moments. His indifference slowly changes into something he isn't familiar with. He knows he should have cast you out the first time he saw you cry, but he didn't. They are a deity of war but also protection. They couldn't just cast their little priest(ess) out.

☾ You slay any entity that enters this place of divinity and worship. You find no difference in one of their followers or one of Ganon's monstrosities. They are all threats in need of elimination. A friend could easily turn foe if you aren't cautious enough. There can only be one mortal residing within the walls of their temple, one priest(ess).

☾ He is pleased by your devotion to him. He rewards you with his mask. The one item that no one possesses but you. To adorn his mask is to become one with him. That is a blessing you can never repay him for. You treat it as if it were made of glass, despite it being stronger than any Hylian or Twili armor. You never wear it within the temple. Being graced with the sense of his presence is enough. You only place the mask on when you need to slay many of Ganon's monstrosities at once. 

That has only happened twice, and you have little memory of it. The one thing you do remember from both of those times is how invigorated you felt. Unstoppable. Perfectly at peace. It was as if every trouble and doubt you had were simply nonexistent.

Your hands often find their way to the mask. You don't wear it; you simply allow your fingers to graze over the surface of it. You gained the permanent markings of the mask after your first time using it. You always touch the marks on your face and trace over them. It could be the material of the mask or your flesh; you were marked by him. It made you feel a sense of completeness you had never known before. It is so incredibly safe within the temple of the Fierce Deity, for you at least.

☾ They find themself amused by your reverence. It sparks more interest in them. They find themself often teasing you in various ways. He will ghost your body with spiritual touches. He'll leave notes for you around his temple. He'll ask you the most invasive and downright mortifying questions, and you will willingly answer. It only spurs him to be more attentive toward you. They say it a lot. It just does.

Your mortal antics greatly amuse them. They would never willingly admit that you are the priest(ess) he holds most dear to his heart over the several that he has had. It makes them want to move forward in this strange 'relationship' you both are in.

☾ So he leaves you needy. He doesn't pity the way your soul begs for him either. They're purposefully being obtuse. They need you to sink down to your knees once again and pour your heart out. Only then can he give you a fraction of the affection that you desire and then disappear once again.

It is what his entire being craves. They need dominance and control. You cannot protect someone if they have a chance of disobeying you. You have shown that he could kill you and toss you into the deepest depths, and you'd still follow him with a broken mind and body.

☾ As time goes on, he begins to indulge in your mortal needs. He gives you affection and tender love through his blank stare and empty heart. They grace you with their hylian form. They are easily able to manipulate it, but he knows your preferences well by now. He can see your eyes bulge out of your head and your body grow faint.

You worship him in any way you are able when he appears in his hylian form. He is still well over seven feet tall. It's deeply intimidating and slightly arousing if you had to speak the truth.

☾ You are his little pet—wait. That isn't the right term, is it? Non-deities prefer the term partner or spouse. You are his small 'malewife', if he is remembering the definitions correctly. He may be a deity, but he hasn't had the time to keep up with the evolving languages of the other races. Still, you are his, and he is enough of yours.

You are such a submissive thing for him. You're so ready and eager to get your hands on something and slaughter it to get his praise.

☾ He thrives within your bewitched nature. The pure violence that emanates from your soul when something dares question him is arousing, to say the least. You and the deity both grow closer. There is one thing he makes known to you: you can be as impassioned as you'd like, but his word is law. You cannot go against it, as it is an extent of him. Not that you ever would. You love him too much.

— Wild —

ღ Death Moutain, the Hot Springs, where you met your darling Wild. You had come across a side of the mountain covered in malice, with three large, fiery chuchus ambushing you from behind. You had to escape across the malice, and you became drenched in it. Your footsteps were weary and unstable; you fell into the healing springs as your legs gave out.

When breaking the surface of the water after your wall, you were met with a completely nude Wild. Your eyes widened as you sheepishly averted your gaze from his. You would soon learn that his wounds were so extensive that he had to be carried down here by a Goron. Fireblight Ganon was the monster you would soon learn of that he had slayed. He freed Divine Beast Vah Rudania.

This was the hero from those stories? The hero that was asleep for a hundred years. You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

ღ You didn't know much Hylian sign, but you got the essence of what he was saying. You both were lone travelers, so you decided to stick together that day. Wild was naturally overprotective of you, for reasons you could only assume. Your heart slowly inched closer to his, and after waiting for him to free Divine Beast Vah Rutain Zora's Domain, you realized how important he became to you. 

You became even more overprotective of him than he was of you. You would be quick to fury at anyone who made any slight toward him. He couldn't even interact with any townsfolk without you hovering, one hand always firmly placed on your weapon. Your attraction to him was quickly spiraling into something far more dangerous.

ღ Wild knows it's toxic, but he still soaks up every last ounce of affection you bestow upon him. He's been starved of affection and love for the last hundred years. Only half of his memories are back, and even those ones seem to be devoid of any type of love. He had the other champions, but they didn't seem to fill his soul with joy, even though he deeply cared for them in a platonic sense.

He practically purrs when you touch him. His body leans into your embrace. He wants to take in your scent and keep you close to him forever. He is just in need, and you are willing to provide it so readily. His eyes water, and tears threaten to escape when you speak such sweet words to him. 

You promise to never leave him. That's the one thing that makes him sob.

He always signs back something even sweeter than whatever left your mouth. He feels as if he could conquer any enemy when he sees you learning how to communicate with him. No one has done that for him. Zelda knew some, as he remembers, but she still preferred to just speak and not sign to him. You're getting better every time you do so. He just wants to smother you, but he refrains.

ღ After each day, the two of you cuddle. It doesn't matter where you are—on the ground or in a stable bed. He shyed away from your touch in the beginning. You both consented to cuddle, but the monsters within his mind caused him to retreat back to his internal shrine. He feared that you would be disgusted by the many scars that adorn his body. He was more scarred than unmarred flesh.

You didn't flinch or have an expression of contempt on your features when you saw him without his tunic. You have already seen some of his scars before, at the hot spring, and when you needed to patch him up. You weren't aware they were so extensive. Still, you accepted him and his body the way it is. You lovingly traced his scars that first night, and he has been hooked ever since.

It is the thing he cherishes. Whenever you two needed to sleep, it became his favorite time. He just couldn't believe you were so intrigued by them. You always told him that you'd love him and his body, no matter what. You wanted him to eat more so he could regain fat and muscle. You wanted to find a proper healer so that he could get checked up on. You were somewhat of a healer, but not proficient within the means of the title.

He always has nightmares, and you soothe him. He prefers laying on top of you in a defensive manner, so he can soak up your warmth, but if the two of you have to sleep on the ground or another rough surface, he prefers you laying on top or to his side. He wants to save you from the discomfort. You deserve it. 

ღ Not everything with you can be so perfect. You have your flaws, as does he. So he has to do his best to keep you in line. He has to learn how to act like a disappointed parent. That seems to make you rethink any rash decisions you may want to make.

He has a ground rule of 'no killing any non-enemies'. It is the hardest rule for you to follow. It's even harder, considering he's found that you are quite clever about murdering people behind his back. He refuses to give you attention for a little while after you kill someone. He does his best to seem firm in his actions, but he can't deprive himself of you for too long. So it's the blank stare that works the best. You always feel guilty and apologize.

He'll have to find better methods in the future to keep you docile. He just has to stop feeling so honored when you murder someone for him.

ღ When the time comes, you help him through the arduous Hyrule Castle. You let him lead because he somewhat remembers some of the groundwork. You are able to sneak past most of the monsters. They don't seem to pay you any mind. You find Zelda's diary before he does, and you shove it in your bag. You later light it on fire and let it burn. She had some very romantic things to say about Link. You didn't appreciate that.

ღ You weren't allowed to follow him to defeat Calamity Ganon. He expressly forbade you from doing so. So you helped him fight Calamity Ganon anyway. You covered his back and kept Ganon distracted with arrows. Both of you narrowly survived. 

It was just something you had to do for him. You couldn't let him die. If he died, you wanted to die right next to him in the glory of battle. After the entire thing, the both of you cried and clung to each other. 

Of course Zelda had to come in and ruin this sacred moment between you two.

ღ Zelda was now freed. She said that your services were no longer needed. Her and Wild needed to go rebuild Hyrule. Zelda knew what you were. She had been watching over Link during his entire journey. She sensed what you were and what happened to you. She saw you burn her journal and the pure contempt in your soul whenever his name was mentioned within her inky letters.

It was very intense between you two. Only the Master Sword would be able to cut through the thickened tension rising in the air.

Wild did his best to calm the both of you. He defended you and thought Zelda was just acting jealous. He knows you have your quirks, but you didn't abandon him when he needed you. You can continue to travel with him. That's his decision, and it's final in its making.

ღ You reluctantly travel alongside Zelda with him. You constantly threaten Zelda behind his back. You do it most when Link is sleeping. You will make thinly veiled threats under the guise of passiveness. They are so vague that Zelda has no ground to stand on when trying to convince Wild of your corrupted nature. 

Zelda is unable to keep herself safe from your assaults due to her weakened magic. You try to slit her throat, and she cannot put up a barrier to protect herself. She makes it out with a thin cut along her collarbone. You lie, and Wild believes that Zelda got hurt, and it wasn't your doing. 

You do it again with poison, then fire, and you even tried to murder her by pushing her over a cliffside. 

As abruptly as the attacks had started, they stopped. You stop making attempts at her life. Zelda is even more on edge. She is just waiting for you to strike again. She knows what you are. She would never trust something like you.

ღ Zelda gets so paranoid that she allows the two of you to venture on your own. She needs to come up with a plan since Wild won't listen to her. You move into his home in Hateno Village. It's lovely that you both are able to settle in for a while. Your romantic relationship is official! You are able to keep him to yourself most days. You make him stay home more and more. He is content with it. He gets overwhelmed when he has to walk into the village and be bombarded by everyone's questions and praises. Some even try to degrade him for his first failure. That villager or villagers who insulted him always go missing the next day. Wild doesn't mind it so much now. 

ღ He has to begin to take care of you. You come down with a strange illness. It isn't deadly, from what you are able to tell. Your skin becomes more red, with a strange tint to it. Your irises change to so dark a color that people feel as if they are looking at death when met with your eyes. You become easily exhausted, so you only leave the house at night. You become more violent and unhinged. You nearly kill Wild.

ღ You thought you scared him off, but almost instantly he forgave you. He couldn't blame you for something you couldn't control. Purah diagnosed you with gloom disease, an infection created from malice that spreads throughout one's body and turns them into a puppet for evil. It's impossible that you would have a disease like that. Calamity Ganon has been defeated. It must be an aftereffect from your original time being poisoned by the malice.

ღ He pledges to stay by your side and help you regain your health. He doesn't need the villagers, Sidon, or even Zelda. All he needs is you. Your relationship isn't perfect, but you both still try to make it work. How unfortunate that it will leave him in tears as the kingdom falls once again.

— Four —

ꨄ︎ You first met Four by complete accident; you both had an order of the same forging material, but they didn't have enough, so you ended up splitting the amount of materials until the next shipment of them came in. You thank the goddesses every day for that accident. You believe it was fated. It had to be fated. The two of you were meant to be. 

ꨄ︎ After an awkward apology, the two of you began to talk. You connected instantly; well, that's what you tell yourself. You told him about your dreams of becoming a blacksmith. You were just a novice, so Four offered to take you under him as an apprentice. The orders were multiplying by the day, and he did need an extra pair of hands.

ꨄ︎ You became entranced by the way he worked and the complete concentration in his multicolored eyes. His frame may have been small, but it was well built. You have to wipe the drool spilling over your lips multiple times a day. You manage to get so lost in admiring him that you've tuned out the words forming on his chapped lips.

You want to get his lips so wet with your own. So badly. You need to kiss him.

"Ahem—did you get all that?"

You could only nod in embarrassment and end up clumsily executing whatever he had instructed you to do. Four just took this as you being inexperienced. You seemed so focused when he was talking. You must just be a slow learner. That's okay. He can work with that.

ꨄ︎ You always overwork yourself. It is something he has chastised you for before. You still do it over and over and over again just to hear those worried words escape his mouth. You take pride in them. You do it just to see him gently stop you and ask you why you do this to yourself. You could 'you' and go into an extensively in-depth monologue about your never-ending devotion to him, but you just settle for some generic answer. The sore muscles and burnout are always worth it, just because you do it for him and you get rewarded with his attention, which you covet so religiously.

ꨄ︎ The best part of being his apprentice, coupled with the fact that your brain can't admire and listen to him at the same time, is when he guides your movements and teaches you. Him physically touching you, his back pressed against yours, his calloused hands adjusting your movements. It's enough to make you want to beg for him to touch you more. You can't help it. He's so hot, both in the metaphorical and literal sense. 

ꨄ︎ It leads you to begin following him to his cottage at the end of the workday. You wouldn't call it stalking per se; you are simply people—person watching. You are observing your mentor and learning from him. That's all. It becomes a routine. Four knows something is off, and it causes him stress. He does his best to figure out who is following him home, but you are clever with your use of stealth potions and noise-suppressant clothing. Four becomes so distressed that, after he comes home one day, he splits. 

You were so surprised that you nearly fell off your hiding perch. You leaned in and tried your best to listen to them bickering. You only got bits and pieces of what they were saying. The Red one was mentioning your name a lot. It only seemed to be in a positive way, given the fact that his voice was pitched upward and he was bouncing on the balls of his feet. You may not have known much about this strange split, but you did know that you were going to use it to your advantage.

ꨄ︎ It isn't necessarily a bad thing that you are inflicting anguish on him, right? You are just doing it to learn more about your esteemed mentor. You also just can't stop. It was first when you noticed that his eye colors shifted out of harmony when he was troubled. You soon deduced that each color must correspond with those people that split from him. You did little things to agitate him. You'd make sure he didn't know, of course. It's just that the orders kept arriving late, project plans disappeared, and finished pieces suddenly broke or had chips in them. It was enough to turn his internal, perfected harmony into the dying screeches of an alley cat. 

So he split right in front of you by complete accident.

ꨄ︎ All four of them froze up and just stared at you with wide eyes. Your nose began to bleed. There are four of them. You are in love with four people—well, four parts of one person. It was just too much for you. They are all so gorgeous. You nearly fall, and Vio catches you. While he holds you against his muscular frame, they continue to argue about the problems that have been going on. They say they have to get to the bottom of this. Oh. You'd love it if they got to the bottom of it.

ꨄ︎ A routine forms from it. You help them solve the problems you create. You look like a hero to all of them. You are always so caring and soft with them. You help heal any burns he gets from the forge; you are always attentive; and there is never a moment where a compliment doesn't leave your mouth about him and his smithery.

You are slowly integrated into the more intimate aspects of his life. Anytime they split, which is rarely, you help mediate the arguments. You aren't partial to any of the Colors since you love them all. It is a dangerous toxin for you. You learn so much about him and about them that you begin to feel sick when away from his presence. It's a disease that affects both your heart and mind, threatening to drive you into insanity unless you heal it with his time and touch.

ꨄ︎ You cannot handle any competition. Anything that gets within his vicinity ends up dead the next day. You aren't even able to restrain yourself any longer. You'd stop doing it if he asked, maybe. However, that'd require him to know what you are doing for him. You want him to know, but you don't know how hurt he would be if he did.

ꨄ︎ What solution can you find to that? Enchanted items. You gift him small trinkets that have been enchanted. You play it off as something small. You are merely being as good-natured as always. Some have protection enchantments, others ward off bad energy, and even one that will supposedly attract him more to you. You are incredibly careful about making sure none of the enchantments are too strong. It still has to be your little secret. In your defense, you are only working in his best interest.

ꨄ︎ Four asks the Minish to help him figure out what is happening. They tell him the truth. They have known it was you all along. They were just too terrified to tell him. You look so scary.

What?

It shatters his insides. He splits.

Their reactions to your yandere tendencies are mixed.

Red thinks that it is kind of sweet. You may be slightly insane, but you treat them all so well. You deserve a second chance. All Four needs to do is talk it out with you.

Blue wants to have you locked up for what you have done. It is insanity as Red said. You need to be stopped immediately. Who knows how far you will go? They have already dealt with Vaati. They don't need a copy of that situation all over again.

Green does his best to calm the two down. Red and Blue are getting into a heated argument, and more strife in this situation won't solve anything. A part of him agrees with Red, and the other with Blue. You have been so kind, but your actions are unjust. He just feels betrayed.

Vio is impressed. He wants to know the extent of this infatuation you have with Four. He won't lie and say that he isn't attracted to your possessiveness. Something about it just makes him hotter than the heat in the forge.

ꨄ︎ They stay split for the night as none of them can come to an agreement. Any attempt at communication just ends in a screaming match. It's a blessing that this is one of the few nights where you weren't able to stalk him home due to your schedule of killing the people that got too close to him.

It was that night that not only did they learn of your true nature, but it was also the night in which the plan to truly test you was put in place. It was Shadows doing, as always. Shadow popped up next to Vio and convinced him to truly test your limits. Vio was both surprised and relieved to see him again. He thought he was—that he was gone. Shadow has just been watching all of them in the darkness.

Vio could almost chuckle. How typical of him.

ꨄ︎ So in the morrow hours Vio leaves his counterparts and goes to the forge. He sees you there, but acts as if he doesn't. He heavily flirts with one of the customers. He could see your body language shifting to something more rigid and bitter. Shadow snuck up behind the customer and pushed them onto Vio. They both kissed, and since no one else was there but you, they continued. Vio didn't resist making out with the random buyer. He was disgusted at the fact he had to kiss another, but if it meant seeing you snap, then it was worth it.

ꨄ︎ Snap you did. One of the new swords Four had crafted earlier in the week lopped the head of the patron clean off. You didn't stop there. You grabbed Vio by the collar of his tunic and began to drag him towards Four's cottage. He didn't resist; he was more amused than anything. The rest of the Colors didn't have the same reaction. 

ꨄ︎ You got on your knees and confessed everything to them. Every little thing in your heart and mind, you spoke. You begged them, begged him, to return your affections. Yet they were in disarray. They rejected you. They rejected you? They rejected you!

You left and didn't return for a few weeks. The Colors were on edge and had a few choice words for Vio, but they reformed into Four. Everything was normal until, after a long day of work, you came up behind Four and knocked him out. You chained him to his bed with an absolutely unhinged expression in dilated pupils. 

ꨄ︎ You ignored his panic and resistance. You only cooed and took that kiss you had been so patiently waiting for. You broke. Your sanity was consumed by your devotion to Four. If he denies you his love again, you'll kill him with his Four Sword. It's romantic the more you think about it. You'd be able to keep the Four Sword if you killed him. You could keep his clothes, and he'd always be yours. His body would be yours because you would have taken his life from him. He can love you or die at your hands. It's really his choice. 𖹭𖹭𖹭𖹭

✎ᝰ 𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ᝰ.ᐟ

⟿ taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @fear-is-truth @moonhasmanyanimals @screaming-until-god-hears-me @numberonehere2008 @justscreaminginprivate @505-fierce-deitys-simp-505 @bleper @h4wari @ozzgin @yourlocaltreesimp

✎ᝰ 𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 ᝰ.ᐟ

[essektheylyss]

I am curious what would happen with the afterlife if the gods were gone, particularly considering the vagueties of the actual nature of mortal souls.

Here are some of the things we know:

Mortal souls currently are collected by the deity of death and any affiliated champions, then ferried to known planes beyond the Material.

There is something beyond the known planes, as the gods can be destroyed into nothing, at which point they are beyond retrieval.

A soul can be bound to an unidentified infinite plane which then returns them to a new mortal form, through specific rituals.

That infinite plane, which is not yet understood, can be contained within a tangible, physical object, which exists on the Material Plane but links elsewhere.

Fragments of souls are always whole regardless of fragmentation, as the infinite within the beacons remains infinite, though its material vessel is small, as we saw with both Mollymauk and Kingsley.

It is not clear what those souls themselves are made of, nor where they would go without the intervention of an entity like the Matron. It is not understood precisely what happens with consecution, and whether there is any conscious force continuing that cycle [1], nor what the nature of a soul within a beacon is.

Matt has specified that divine magic would not be absent from Exandria in the absence of the gods themselves, but it is unclear whether the souls of mortals would continue to return to a known afterlife upon death. While currently mortals have an idea of where they will go, we don't actually know where they initially came from.

This is purely throwing thoughts at the wall, to be clear, so I am not suggesting any of the following is true. But it isn't impossible that, like the beacons themselves, mortal souls are a small ounce of infinity, held within a material vessel. Separately, it's also not impossible that, without the intervention of a god, mortal souls too would be lost to nothingness—or perhaps infinity—upon death; and perhaps the difference between nothingness and infinity is contingent upon whether the beacons, as links to some unknown infinite realm, remain in existence, or are likewise consumed.

And if, in fact, divine intervention, conscious or otherwise, is the only thing that provides mortals the possibility of peace in the afterlife, then resurrection magic would become useless. A soul's destruction, as with the destruction of the gods, would render that mortal not only dead, but lost entirely, leaving the people of Exandria to face the same awareness and fear of nothingness that the gods themselves have known since they fled the eternal.

[1] For the record, this varies across the creation myths of Luxon-worshipping cultures, per TCSR and EGTW, so even within Exandria it is not certain what is true.

[starpaw0007]

NEW STICKERS!!

He's just a silly little guy!

[sinoramikss]

FATES BARGAIN

Hello everyone this is my first time writing fanfic its not a smut (for now). But we will see what’s gonna happen together. I recently finished reading ACOTAR and this idea came to me. What if I bargain with some old deity and find myself in ACOTAR universe.

And warning English is not my native.

As the night crept deeper into the woods, a cool breeze rustled the leaves overhead. Shadows danced between the trees, mingling with the gentle light of the stars. The forest was hushed, save for the occasional sound of wildlife skittering through the underbrush. But beneath the canopy, a figure lay in stillness—a traveler from a world that was no longer theirs.

Your body, fragile and motionless, rested on a bed of fallen leaves, arms spread out as if surrendering to the earth. The clothes you wore were unfamiliar in this land—fabric too strange, stitching too precise. The air around you held a peculiar scent, one that did not belong to this realm, as if the forest itself held its breath, aware of an intruder from beyond the known worlds.

Azriel was the first to sense it—a pulse of magic, foreign and faint. It brushed against the shadows that were his constant companions, a shiver in the fabric of reality. He landed quietly amidst the trees, his wings folding behind him, the air stirred only slightly by his descent. His face remained impassive, but his senses were alert, dark gaze scanning the surroundings.

Cassian followed not long after, his presence more obvious, the crunch of leaves under his boots echoing through the stillness. He moved with less caution, but no less focus, his battle-hardened instincts sharpened by the unfamiliar presence Azriel had felt. When he spotted your unmoving form, his brows furrowed.

"Is she dead?" Cassian asked, his voice low but carrying through the night air, as if he feared to disturb something sacred.

Azriel knelt beside you, his shadows curling around you like curious tendrils, probing for any sign of life. He placed two fingers against your neck, searching for a pulse. It thrummed faintly, weak but steady.

"No. But... she doesn’t belong here," Azriel murmured, his shadows whispering their secrets in his ear. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something about you that did not match the cadence of this world, a dissonance in the magic that laced the air around you.

Cassian crossed his arms, staring down at you with a mixture of curiosity and caution. "What do you think she is? Some kind of spy? A trick from one of the other courts?"

Azriel shook his head, still studying you. "No. This magic... it's ancient, wild. Not from any court I know of." He tilted his head, listening to the way the shadows recoiled and danced. "It’s like she fell through from somewhere else. Someplace beyond the reach of our worlds."

Cassian shifted, unease pulling at his expression. "And she's just lying here, like she fell out of the sky. Hells, Az, what do we do with her?"

Azriel’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as he looked at your unconscious form. He could see the faint traces of suffering etched into the lines of your face, the exhaustion that clung to you even in rest. Whatever had brought you here, it had not been gentle. "We take her back to Velaris. At least until she wakes up and we get some answers."

Cassian hesitated, glancing back toward the way they had come. But he trusted Azriel's instincts, and if there was danger, they were more than capable of handling it. He let out a huff of breath, the decision made. "Fine. But if she turns out to be trouble, I’m blaming you."

Azriel only nodded, carefully slipping his arms beneath you. You weighed almost nothing in his grasp, your body limp against his chest as he lifted you from the forest floor. He noted the chill that clung to your skin, the way your head lolled against his shoulder, as if even in unconsciousness, you were seeking warmth. A pang of something unidentifiable tugged at his chest, but he dismissed it quickly.

With a shared glance, the two Illyrians took to the sky, Azriel cradling your form as Cassian kept watch over their surroundings. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the treetops, the lights of Velaris gleaming in the distance like a beacon. Beneath the starlit sky, you remained still, lost in a world between worlds, the faintest trace of a smile on your lips, as if you had finally found a kind of peace in leaving behind the life you once knew.

But in this new realm, your story was just beginning, and the choices you made would echo across more than one reality. And perhaps, somewhere in the shadows of your mind, the voice of Hekate whispered softly, reminding you of the price you paid to escape your old reality and of the new fate you had accepted.

The wind whispered through the night as Azriel and Cassian descended toward the River House, its stone walls glinting softly in the moonlight. The home, a refuge for those who belonged to the Inner Circle, now held a new mystery within its walls—you.

Azriel's landing was silent as he touched down just outside the doors, cradling your unconscious form gently against his chest. Cassian landed beside him with a heavier thud, his wings rustling as he folded them behind his back. They exchanged a brief glance before Azriel moved forward, nudging the door open with his shoulder.

Inside, the warmth of the River House was a stark contrast to the cool air outside. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a gentle glow across the room, filling the space with a comforting warmth. Rhysand and Feyre were already waiting, alerted by the subtle shift in the wards when Azriel and Cassian had approached.

Rhysand leaned against the mantel, arms crossed over his chest, his violet eyes narrowed with curiosity as they fell upon you. Feyre stood at his side, her expression softer, though a crease of concern marked her brow. As Azriel carefully laid you down on a couch near the fire, Rhysand’s gaze turned speculative.

"Who is she?" Rhysand asked, his voice a low murmur that filled the space between them.

Azriel shook his head, stepping back from the couch as his shadows curled protectively around him. "I don't know. But whatever magic brought her here, it’s old, and it's not from Prythian. We found her in the forest—unconscious, as if she’d fallen through a crack between worlds."

Feyre moved closer, her eyes scanning your face, taking in the strange clothing and the pallor of your skin. There was a certain tenderness in the way she brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, noting the exhaustion that seemed to seep into every line of your expression. "She looks like she’s been through a lot," she observed softly, her voice tinged with sympathy.

Cassian scoffed, though it lacked any real bite. "She doesn’t look like much of a threat to me. But then again, we've been surprised before."

Rhysand tilted his head, considering, as if weighing the possibilities against the unknown. He stepped forward, his shadows curling subtly as he reached out with his magic, brushing lightly against the barrier of your mind, searching for answers without prying too deeply. But what he encountered was a tangled web—one that he could not unravel easily. It was as if the space between your thoughts was filled with echoes, like the remnants of a deal sealed in darkness.

He pulled back, his eyes narrowing slightly. "There's something blocking her mind—a barrier, or a spell. Whatever it is, it's old, and it feels like it was made to keep secrets. I can't get through it without risking her mind."

Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line, her gaze shifting to Rhysand for a moment before returning to you. "Then we wait until she wakes up. Maybe she’ll tell us what she knows—what she is."

Cassian, who had been pacing impatiently, stopped and nodded. "In the meantime, I’ll stay on guard, in case she tries anything funny." He shot a half-teasing, half-serious look at Azriel. "If she attacks anyone, I'm blaming you, Az."

Azriel only rolled his eyes in response, but there was a small quirk to his lips as he looked back at you, a hint of something softer than his usual cold demeanor. "She’s not here to hurt anyone. I can feel it," he murmured, more to himself than to the others.

Feyre watched Azriel for a moment, then sighed. "She’ll need warmth and food when she wakes. I’ll have someone prepare something light, just in case." She moved toward the door, glancing back at Rhysand. "We’ll need to keep an eye on her, but we shouldn’t treat her like a prisoner."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "Agreed. If she’s come to us through whatever magic brought her here, then it’s likely for a reason. We'll find out what it is when she wakes."

With that, they left Azriel and Cassian alone with you, the fire’s glow flickering softly across the room. Cassian leaned against the wall, arms crossed, keeping one watchful eye on you, though his expression was more curious than wary now. Azriel remained nearby, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that seemed to go beyond mere curiosity.

He wondered what had driven you to accept a bargain so potent it could tear you from your reality. What had you left behind, and why? Perhaps he recognized a reflection of his own shadows in the emptiness you carried with you—a person burdened by a past that clung too tightly. But he pushed those thoughts aside, returning to the present as he watched over you.

And then, as the fire crackled softly and the River House settled into a quieter rhythm, your eyes fluttered open. Disoriented, you blinked up at the unfamiliar ceiling, the warmth of the room pressing against the chill that clung to your bones. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were—or, more precisely, when you were. You tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness washed over you, and you slumped back against the cushions.

Azriel's shadowed figure came into focus beside you, his expression a careful mask of calm. "Easy," he said, his voice low and smooth, as if he were speaking to a wounded animal. "You’re safe here. Just rest."

You turned your head slightly, taking in the sight of Cassian leaning casually against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. There was a tension in the air, as if both of them were waiting for your next move—waiting for you to reveal what had brought you into their world.

Memories of Hekate's deal flashed through your mind—the darkness of her offer, the weariness that had driven you to accept it, and the promise of escape that had come at such a high price. You remembered the moment you closed your eyes and let go of your old reality, the sense of falling through the cracks of the world.

And now, you were here, surrounded by strangers with wings and eyes that seemed to see right through you. A strange sort of peace settled over you, even as uncertainty lingered at the edges. You met Azriel’s gaze, and though your voice was hoarse and barely more than a whisper, you managed to ask, “Where am I?”

Azriel exchanged a brief glance with Cassian before looking back at you. "You’re in Velaris. Safe, for now. But I think it’s time you tell us who you are—and why you’re here."

Your breath hitched as you tried to find the words, knowing that whatever you said next could change the course of your journey in this new world. But there was no turning back now, no retreating into the life you had left behind. You took a deep breath, your heart thudding against your ribs, and began to speak, hoping that this place, and these people, might hold the answers you sought—or at least a chance at a new beginning.

You shifted on the couch, trying to find a position that didn't feel so vulnerable under their sharp gazes. Your mind raced, balancing the weight of truth and the risk of lies. You knew Azriel's kind—someone who could cut through deceit with a single, probing look. But giving them everything might paint you as something you weren't: a threat, a fool, or worse, a spy.

So, you chose the path between, the shadows of half-truths.

"I... I'm not from around here," you began, your voice quiet but steady, each word carefully chosen. Azriel's expression remained unreadable, but Cassian raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced by your vague answer.

You shifted slightly, looking down at your hands as you tried to continue. "I made a mistake. A deal I didn't fully understand. It... took me away from my home, and I ended up here. I didn't choose this place. I just—fell through." You lifted your gaze, meeting Azriel's sharp eyes. "But I'm not here to harm anyone. I just want to understand what happened to me... and maybe find a way back. If that's even possible."

Azriel's shadows flared subtly, swirling around him as if responding to your words, but his expression betrayed nothing. "You speak in riddles," he said, his tone flat, but there was a thread of curiosity beneath it. "What kind of deal did you make? And with whom?"

You swallowed hard, trying not to let your nerves show. "A goddess. One that... offered me a way out when I thought I had no other choice. She promised me freedom but didn’t mention the price. And now, I’m here."

Cassian crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. "Sounds like something a spy would say. A convenient story to hide your real intentions." He tilted his head, assessing you with a soldier's scrutiny. "If you’re telling the truth, then prove it."

You could feel the tension growing thicker between them, and your pulse quickened. "I don't know how to prove it," you said, your voice wavering slightly, though you tried to keep your tone steady. "I have no magic of my own—no tricks. Just... this." You gestured vaguely to yourself, as if that could convey the strange dissonance you felt within this world. "If I wanted to harm anyone, why would I have let myself be found, unconscious and vulnerable?"

Azriel held your gaze, his eyes like chips of ice, piercing through the dark. For a long moment, he said nothing, the silence stretching uncomfortably, until finally, he spoke, his voice softer, almost thoughtful. "You’re afraid. But not of us, are you?"

You hesitated, then shook your head slowly. "No... I’m afraid of what I left behind. And what might come looking for me."

Cassian frowned, glancing at Azriel, who seemed to consider your words carefully, weighing them like coins in his mind. After a moment, Azriel inclined his head, almost imperceptibly, a subtle acknowledgment.

"We’ll keep an eye on you until we know more," Azriel said, his tone carrying an edge of warning. "But if you have no ill intentions, then you have nothing to fear from us. Just remember, deception is a dangerous game to play here. We’ve had enough of that from the people we trust."

Cassian huffed but didn’t protest further, though his eyes remained wary. You nodded slowly, relief mingling with unease. It wasn't trust, not yet, but it was enough to keep you safe for the time being. And maybe, just maybe, it would be enough to unravel the threads of your strange new fate.

As the tension simmered in the room, the sound of soft footsteps approached, and a familiar presence filled the space like the calm before a storm. Rhysand and Feyre stepped into the room, their expressions curious yet cautious. Rhysand’s violet eyes swept over the scene, noting your wary posture and the unreadable expressions on Azriel and Cassian's faces.

Feyre’s gaze softened as she saw you struggling to sit up, your movements still sluggish from the exhaustion that clung to you. "She’s awake," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else, and she took a step closer, her tone gentle. "How are you feeling?"

You hesitated, feeling the weight of so many eyes on you, but there was a kindness in Feyre’s expression that made it a little easier to speak. "Better than I did in the forest, I guess," you replied, your voice rough from disuse. You glanced at Rhysand, sensing the power that he kept carefully reined in, like a storm just beneath the surface. His presence was as imposing as it was mesmerizing.

Rhysand offered a small, polite smile, though his gaze was as sharp as Azriel’s. "My friends tell me you have quite the story. One that brought you a long way from home." He tilted his head, studying you with a curiosity that seemed almost feline. "I’d like to hear it, if you’re willing to share."

Before you could answer, another set of footsteps echoed through the hall, more hurried and filled with a different kind of energy. Adrenaline rushed through the air as Mor emerged, her eyes flashing with a mixture of concern and intrigue. Nesta followed closely behind, her expression guarded, while Elain lingered near the doorway, her gentle presence like a balm against the tension.

Mor shot you a sympathetic look, but her curiosity burned brightly. "So, this is the stranger from another world," she said, more of a statement than a question. She folded her arms, glancing between Azriel and Rhysand. "What have I missed?"

Nesta, ever watchful, remained silent, but her eyes assessed you with the same scrutiny as the others. Elain, however, moved a step closer, her expression soft and welcoming, a slight smile curving her lips as she tried to put you at ease. "We’re not here to frighten you," Elain said quietly, her voice gentle like a summer breeze. "We just want to understand what brought you here."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their attention, the unspoken questions hanging between all of you. It was time to unravel the tangled threads of your story—bit by bit, just enough to make sense of it all without giving away everything that lay buried beneath the surface.

You began slowly, your voice barely more than a whisper at first. "My world... it was suffocating. I was sick, in a way that made me feel like I was drowning every day. And then... she came. A goddess, Hekate. She offered me a deal—a chance to leave it all behind. To start over somewhere new, somewhere different." You hesitated, your gaze dropping to your hands, as if the memory of that dark bargain still lingered in your skin. "But I didn't realize what it meant. I thought I was just escaping my pain. I didn’t know it would mean abandoning everything—my home, my reality. That I’d end up... here."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of your words and the uncertainty they carried. Rhysand's expression turned thoughtful, his eyes narrowing slightly as he considered what you had shared. Mor, meanwhile, leaned forward, her curiosity barely contained. "Hekate? That's a name I haven't heard in a very, very long time. She’s a tricky one—deals like that never come without strings attached."

Azriel and Cassian exchanged a glance, but it was Rhysand who spoke, his tone measured. "So, you’re telling us that you struck a bargain with an ancient goddess and ended up in our world by accident. But what we don’t know is why she chose you—and what she might want from you now."

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his unspoken question: What makes you worth such a powerful deal? But you couldn’t answer that—not fully. Not when even you didn’t understand why Hekate had chosen you, or what her true motives might be. So, you chose another half-truth, hoping it would be enough.

"I think she wanted me to become something new. Someone who could move between worlds. But the cost... it was everything I knew. I woke up here, in your forest, with nothing but the clothes on my back. I don’t even know if she intends to call me back, or if she’s left me to figure out what comes next on my own."

Nesta’s gaze softened slightly, though she still held herself with a defensive edge. "And what do you want from us? Are you hoping we’ll send you back to her?"

You shook your head, your expression hardening, refusing to show any vulnerability. "No, I don’t want anything from you. I’m not here looking for a handout or a place to hide. I can take care of myself, and if I’m in your way, I’ll leave right now. Just point me in the direction, and I’ll figure it out on my own." Your tone held a defiant edge, even though uncertainty churned inside you.

Rhysand arched a brow, his gaze cool but curious as he studied you. "So, you’d rather take your chances out there, alone, in a world you don’t understand?"

You met his gaze, unwilling to back down. "Yes. I didn’t ask to be here, but I don’t need anyone’s pity or protection. I’ll find my own way, like I always have."

Feyre’s expression turned more sympathetic, a flicker of understanding crossing her face, but she didn’t interrupt. Mor looked like she might argue, but a look from Rhysand kept her quiet for the moment. Azriel’s shadows stirred, his expression unreadable as he watched you, as if searching for something deeper in your words.

Elain, still near the doorway, spoke softly, her gentle nature contrasting with the tension in the room. "You don’t have to do it alone. It’s not about pity... sometimes, people need each other. It’s okay to accept help when it’s offered."

You swallowed hard, but your resolve remained firm, your voice steady. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m not here to become someone’s charity case. I’d rather face whatever’s out there on my terms."

Rhysand studied you for a long moment, and then, with a slow nod, he seemed to reach a decision. "You’re free to leave whenever you wish, if that’s truly what you want. But we won’t cast you out without making sure you understand the dangers of this world. Stay for a few days, learn what you can—and then, if you still wish to leave, we won’t stop you."

Mor’s expression softened slightly, though she still looked frustrated by your stubbornness. Cassian shrugged, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Your funeral, if you ask me. But maybe you’ll come around to the idea of not running headfirst into the unknown."

Azriel remained silent, but his gaze lingered on you, as if he understood more than he was letting on. It wasn’t trust, not yet, but it was a tentative offer of understanding.

You let out a small, shaky breath, feeling the tug of conflicting emotions. It wasn’t what you wanted—to accept help, to let down your guard. But maybe, just maybe, a few days of safety would give you time to understand the tangled mess your life had become and decide what path to take next.

And in that moment, you found yourself caught between the stubborn pride that had kept you going for so long and the quiet, unfamiliar hope that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to face this new world entirely alone.

As the silence settled over the room, the decision hanging in the air like a delicate thread, Rhysand’s gaze softened ever so slightly, though the sharpness in his expression didn’t fade completely. He turned to address the others, a sense of command slipping into his tone. “Let’s give her some space. We’ve all had a long night, and she deserves time to make her decision without us hovering over her.”

Feyre nodded, offering you a final look of understanding before she gently touched Rhysand’s arm, guiding him toward the door. Mor hesitated, her curious gaze lingering on you, but she followed suit after a moment, though you could still feel the weight of her attention as she left.

Nesta, always guarded, gave you a long, considering look before turning away. Elain lingered the longest, her kind eyes holding a quiet hope, as if she wished she could somehow convince you to stay, but eventually, she too retreated with the others.

Cassian paused at the doorway, his lips quirking in a lopsided grin. “I’ll keep a spot warm for you if you change your mind about running off into the woods. But if you’d rather do things the hard way, well, you’ll fit right in with the rest of us.” He shot a wink your way, and then he was gone, leaving just you and Azriel alone in the room.

Azriel stayed back, his shadows swirling around him like curious spirits. He watched you with that piercing, unreadable gaze of his, the silence stretching longer than seemed comfortable. But he didn’t leave immediately, as if sensing that you had something left to say or simply offering you a moment to gather yourself.

You felt the need to break the silence, your stubbornness still warring with the uncertainty that gnawed at you. “You don’t have to stay and babysit me, you know. I’m not going to sneak out the window,” you muttered, trying to inject some semblance of humor into your voice, though it fell flat.

Azriel’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a slight softening in the shadows that danced around him, as if they found your stubbornness... amusing. “I’m not here to watch over you,” he replied quietly, his voice a low murmur that seemed to blend with the flickering shadows. “But if you plan to go, you should know that this world is not kind to those who wander alone. Especially those without allies.”

You looked away, staring into the fire as it crackled softly in the hearth. “I’ve never had allies. I’ve never needed them.”

Azriel’s silence was contemplative, the shadows swirling closer as if whispering secrets to him. “Maybe not. But perhaps it’s time you learn what it means to have people who don’t see you as a burden.” He turned then, his wings shifting subtly as he moved toward the door, his back to you. “Think on it. When you’re ready, you’ll find us nearby.”

He left without another word, the door closing softly behind him, leaving you alone with the sound of the crackling fire and your own tangled thoughts. The warmth of the room seemed to press in on you, reminding you of the unfamiliar comfort you hadn’t asked for but found yourself reluctant to abandon.

You leaned back against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to untangle the threads of confusion and defiance that knotted inside you. Part of you still wanted to flee, to run headlong into whatever awaited outside, to prove that you didn’t need anyone’s help. But another part, the quieter, wearier part, whispered that perhaps there was more to be found here—answers, maybe even a chance to redefine what your life could become.

And so, for the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to consider the possibility that staying—if only for a little while—might not mean surrendering your pride. It might mean gaining the time you needed to find out who you were in this new world and what Hekate’s deal truly meant for you.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the fire lull you into a restless sleep, your mind drifting with thoughts of the unknown paths that lay before you. And as you slipped into dreams, a shadowed figure stood watch outside the River House, his sharp eyes scanning the night, ensuring that no harm would come while you decided whether to stay or go.

And as you slept, the night outside the River House remained still, cloaked in a veil of quiet tension. Azriel, true to his nature, kept his vigil just beyond the threshold, shadows curling around him like a living mantle. His gaze swept across the river and the distant lights of Velaris, but his thoughts lingered on you—the stranger from another world, full of defiance and uncertainty.

In the darkness, he considered the many secrets you still held close, the tangled story you had only begun to unravel. He understood the weight of a past that refused to be left behind, the reluctance to lean on anyone when you had learned to survive on your own. But he also sensed the threads of something more in your stubborn determination, a potential that made him curious in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

Inside, the warmth of the fire slowly lulled you into deeper sleep, but your dreams were filled with half-formed images and whispers that felt like echoes of the life you had left behind. Faces blurred, places faded, until all that remained was the memory of Hekate's voice, her promise reverberating through the shadows of your mind.

You wanted freedom, little wanderer. Now you must learn what it means to be free.

Her words, cryptic and cold, seemed to twist through your dreams like smoke, leaving you grasping for meaning. You turned restlessly on the couch, murmuring quietly as you drifted between sleep and waking, aware of the quiet but powerful presence beyond the door, even if you couldn’t see him.

In the morning, the sun would rise over the river, casting its first light across the city of Velaris, and you would have to face the decision you had yet to make. Stay, and risk the vulnerability of accepting help—or go, and carve out your place in this new world on your own terms.

But for now, as the night held its breath, you remained suspended in the space between, your fate not yet written, your heart caught between fear and the faintest glimmer of hope.

The first rays of dawn filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room. I awoke to the sight of Elain’s curious and concerned expression hovering above me. Her eyes were wide with a mixture of wonder and worry, and I could only imagine how strange it must have been to discover a girl who had seemingly fallen from the sky.

I knew this world—perhaps more than anyone here could guess. I had read its stories, knew who these people were, and understood exactly where I had landed. But despite my familiarity with the place, I had no idea what awaited me in this reality. What twists my presence here might bring, and whether I would manage to carve a place for myself or remain an outsider forever.

Elain’s gentle smile spread across her face as she noticed me stirring. “Good morning,” she greeted, her voice as warm as the sunlight streaming through the windows. I shifted on the couch where I had slept, and only then did I realize how uncomfortable it had been. My neck and back ached with stiffness, and I winced slightly as I tried to sit up, rubbing my temples to ease the dull throb of a headache.

I forced a small, grateful smile, mirroring Elain’s kindness. “Good morning,” I replied, my voice a little rough with sleep. She seemed to brighten at my attempt to match her cheerfulness, and I appreciated the effort she made to ease the awkwardness of waking in an unfamiliar place.

The thin blanket that had been draped over me slipped off as I moved, gathering in a heap at the foot of the couch. I swung my legs over the side, struggling to push myself upright. But before I could make much progress, the sound of soft footsteps approaching caught both our attention. We turned toward the doorway, where the familiar silhouette of Feyre appeared.

She smiled warmly, a gentle expression that echoed her sister’s, though there was a hint of curiosity behind it. “Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked, her tone light and welcoming, as if she were speaking to an old friend rather than a stranger from another world.

I hesitated, but the rumble of hunger in my stomach answered for me. I gave a small nod, unable to find the words, and let the exhaustion of the night slip away as I rose from the couch. I smoothed down my rumpled clothes, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the awkwardness of the situation.

Elain and Feyre waited patiently, and as soon as I was steady on my feet, they led me out of the room and down the hall toward the dining area. The morning air was cool against my skin, the scent of fresh bread and tea wafting from the nearby kitchen, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the river beyond the windows.

As we approached the dining room, my steps slowed, realizing what awaited on the other side of the door. The entire Inner Circle—those figures I had only known through pages and imagination—were likely gathered within, waiting to see what the morning would reveal about their unexpected guest.

Feyre shot me an encouraging smile over her shoulder, as if sensing my hesitation, while Elain gently reached out to give my arm a reassuring squeeze. I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and followed them through the doorway.

Inside, the dining room was bathed in the golden light of morning, casting a warm glow over the long wooden table. As I had expected, they were all there—Rhysand seated at the head of the table, his expression unreadable but curious. Cassian lounged comfortably in a chair, though he shot me a lopsided grin as I entered, while Azriel stood near the window, his shadows whispering quietly around him. Mor’s eyes sparkled with curiosity, and even Nesta, though more reserved, watched me with an intensity that made it clear she hadn’t let down her guard.

Elain and Feyre guided me to a seat, and I sat down gingerly, aware of the weight of every gaze upon me. The food laid out on the table looked simple but inviting—warm bread, fruit, cheese, and a pot of steaming tea. The aroma filled the air, making my stomach clench with hunger, but the tension of the room kept my appetite in check.

Rhysand’s lips quirked into a small smile, and he inclined his head slightly. “Please, eat. You’ve had a long night, and there’s plenty to go around.”

I hesitated, glancing at the others, but eventually, I reached for a piece of bread, my fingers trembling slightly as I broke off a bite. The warmth of it soothed some of the lingering cold in my chest, and I took another breath, trying to steady myself.

Cassian leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and gave me a half-teasing, half-serious look. “So, how does a girl fall out of the sky and end up in the middle of our forest?” His tone was light, but I could sense the sharp edge of curiosity beneath it.

I swallowed the bite of bread, feeling the weight of the question settle in the room. All eyes were on me again, waiting for an answer, waiting for me to explain the impossible. I glanced briefly at Elain, who offered me an encouraging nod, before meeting Cassian’s gaze.

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself,” I replied, my voice carefully measured. “All I know is that I made a choice—to leave behind everything I knew. But I didn’t expect to end up here, in your world.” I hesitated, then added, “But I don’t intend to be a burden. If you want me to leave, I will. I can take care of myself.”

The table fell into a thoughtful silence, each of them processing my words in their own way. Rhysand’s gaze grew more contemplative, as if weighing the implications of what I had said. Mor’s lips twitched into a faint, intrigued smile, while Azriel’s shadows seemed to dance around him, though his expression remained as inscrutable as ever.

Elain’s hand rested gently on mine, a silent reassurance that not all of them viewed me as an outsider. But even as I sat among them, surrounded by warmth and light, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was still standing on the edge of something vast and unknown, unsure of what my next step would be.

And for now, all I could do was wait and see what this new morning—and the people seated around that table—might bring.

Rhysand leaned back slightly in his chair, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “What we discussed last night still stands, Miss…” He trailed off, his tone polite yet probing, as if waiting for me to fill in the blank.

It struck me then—amidst all the confusion, no one had even asked my name. It made sense, I supposed, given the strangeness of my arrival and the circumstances of the night before. And I, for my part, hadn’t thought to offer it. I already knew each of them, but of course, they had no way of knowing that.

A brief wave of anxiety washed over me, my mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t give away too much. I straightened in my chair, trying to appear composed as I quickly responded, “Sy. You can call me Sy.”

Rhysand’s eyebrow arched slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing through his violet eyes, while the rest of the table exchanged subtle glances, as if they were weighing the sound of the name, trying to find its hidden meanings.

I forced a small, casual smile and continued, rushing to explain before they could question further. “It’s short for my full name—it’s... a bit difficult to pronounce. So, Sy works fine. Just call me that.” My words tumbled out in a breathless rush, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of the napkin on my lap.

There was a moment of silence, the kind that makes your skin prickle with the weight of unspoken questions. Mor tilted her head, studying me with an amused glint in her eye, while Cassian’s expression turned thoughtful, as if he was filing away every detail I had given. Azriel remained in the shadows, his face a mask of calm, but I could feel his gaze, like a cool breeze brushing over my skin.

Feyre offered a kind smile, breaking the tension. “It’s nice to meet you, Sy,” she said softly, the sincerity in her voice making the simple statement feel more meaningful than it should have. Elain nodded beside her, her gentle smile never wavering.

With the attention shifting slightly away from me, I glanced down at the food on the table, grateful for the distraction. The rich smell of warm bread and fresh fruit was a comforting contrast to the tension that hung in the air. I took a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady the racing of my heart as I reached for a slice of fruit.

Rhysand’s voice, though softer now, still carried a thread of curiosity as he spoke again, drawing my attention back to him. “Sy, then. Last night, you mentioned you had made a choice to leave behind your world. I’d like to know more about what that means—if you’re willing to share.”

I hesitated, my fingers pausing over the piece of fruit, feeling the weight of the question press against me. This was the moment I had been dreading, the one where I would have to give them more than just half-truths if I wanted to earn their trust—or at least convince them that I wasn’t a threat.

But before I could respond, Cassian leaned in, his elbows resting on the table as he shot me a lopsided grin. “Relax, Sy. We’re not interrogating you... yet.” His attempt at humor was meant to ease the tension, but it only highlighted the scrutiny I was under.

I managed a weak chuckle, though it sounded hollow even to my own ears. “I’ll do my best,” I replied, glancing between them, searching their faces for any sign of malice or hidden agendas. But all I found was a mix of curiosity, caution, and—surprisingly—concern.

I gathered all my strength, forcing the words past the knot in my throat. “I... I made a deal with Hekate, like I mentioned last night.” Even that single sentence felt like it took all the air from my lungs, leaving me breathless. I swallowed hard, trying to clear the tightness in my chest. Everyone’s eyes were on me, watching, waiting, but I couldn’t bring myself to meet any of their gazes. Instead, I focused on the tabletop, on the way my hands trembled slightly as I continued.

“I was facing a terrible illness, one that left me with no hope. In my world, we don’t have gods like you do here—not many, at least. But we have stories, tales of ancient deities long forgotten, like the ones from myth.” A broken smile flickered across my face. Even now, the reality of Hekate’s existence felt impossible to grasp, but being here—truly here—left me with little room for doubt. I took another shaky breath and pressed on.

“My family... they believed in our modern god. But I always loved those stories of ancient gods and goddesses, even when I was a little girl. I’d spend hours reading about them, imagining what they might be like. Then, as I was lying in my sickbed, barely able to get up anymore, I found one of those old books I used to read as a child. It was about Hekate—how to worship her, how to ask for her help.” My voice wavered, the memory sharp and painful, yet tinged with an odd sort of nostalgia.

“When I read it as a child, I hadn’t understood any of it. But reading it again, as an adult—well, I saw things differently.” I forced out a dry, humorless laugh. “At my last doctor’s appointment, they told me I didn’t have much time left. My family had given up hope, and to be honest, so had I. So, I decided to call out to her, Hekate, from my sickbed. I thought, ‘What could go wrong?’ I was willing to try anything if it meant escaping the pain.”

My voice faltered, and I felt the burn of tears welling in my eyes, memories of those days flooding back—memories I had hoped to leave behind. I blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay, but a few escaped, rolling down my cheeks. I wiped them away with the back of my hand, taking a deep, shuddering breath to steady myself before continuing.

“That night, when I fell asleep, I found myself in this place—darkness all around me, thick and suffocating. It felt like I’d reached the end, like this was what everyone had been waiting for: my final moment.” I paused, struggling to put the next part into words, the vividness of it still haunting me. “But then, a small light appeared in the darkness—blood-red, like a drop of crimson ink spreading through the void. And then she was there. Hekate.”

I closed my eyes tightly, trying to block out the memory of her face, but it lingered in my mind like a shadow. “At first, I didn’t understand who she was or what she wanted. We didn’t speak, not right away. But then she smiled, and she asked me what I wanted. I told her, ‘Take away the pain, please.’ She asked what I was willing to give in return, and I... I begged for another chance, somewhere else, some other time—anywhere but there. I just wanted the pain to end.”

A shiver ran through me as I remembered the way she had smiled, her lips curving in a way that seemed to hold all the secrets of the universe. “I can’t forget that smile. She just looked at me and said, ‘Very well.’ And then... then I woke up here, in your forest.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, each word echoing back at me like a reminder of the choices I had made. I forced myself to look up, to meet the eyes of the people around the table. Mor’s expression had softened, the curiosity in her gaze now mingled with a glimmer of sympathy. Elain’s face was open, her eyes filled with kindness, as if she could feel the weight of every word I’d spoken.

Cassian shifted in his chair, his usual bravado tempered by a trace of something more serious. Azriel’s face remained unreadable, but his shadows seemed to draw closer, whispering secrets only he could hear. Feyre’s lips pressed into a thin line, as if she was considering what I had said, turning over each detail in her mind. And Rhysand—his expression was still thoughtful, but his eyes held an understanding that went deeper than I had expected.

“You made a desperate choice,” Rhysand finally said, his voice gentle but firm, like the steady pull of a tide. “And you paid a price for it. But that doesn’t mean you have to face this alone now.”

I shook my head, the old fear rising up in me again. “I don’t know what she wants from me, Rhysand. I don’t know why she sent me here, or if she plans to come for me again. Maybe... maybe she’s just waiting to see if I’ll survive this new life, or if I’ll break under the weight of it.” My voice cracked, and I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.

The moment Rhysand’s name slipped from my lips, I bit down on my tongue, cursing myself inwardly. Azriel’s hazel eyes snapped toward me, sharp and unyielding, like those of a hawk spotting its prey. Shadows unfurled around him, curling and weaving through the air as if ready to close in on me. Cassian, Feyre, and Mor exchanged puzzled looks, their expressions shifting from surprise to suspicion as they focused their attention on me. Elain, caught between concern and curiosity, glanced at her friends’ faces, trying to understand the sudden shift in the room’s atmosphere.

Nesta, however, stood a little apart, her mate beside her, a mocking smile playing on her lips as she met Cassian’s gaze, sharing an unspoken thought. The tension was palpable, hanging thick in the air like a brewing storm.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, settling more comfortably, though there was nothing relaxed about his posture. His eyes had grown darker, shadows playing across his features as he studied me. “I don’t recall ever telling you my name, Sy,” he said, his voice as smooth as silk but carrying an unmistakable edge.

There it was—accusation and doubt laced in his words, suspicion seeping into every syllable. He thought I might be a spy, someone sent to infiltrate their circle, to learn their secrets. Perhaps even a pawn of Eris or Tamlin, playing a role in some scheme. I could see it in his gaze, the way his mind calculated the possible threats, how each piece might fit into a dangerous puzzle.

I opened my mouth, desperate to explain, but the words died on my tongue. How could I possibly justify this? How could I tell them that, in my world, they were characters in a story I had read—heroes and villains who existed only within the pages of a book? Saying that aloud would only make me sound mad, and it certainly wouldn’t help my case now.

But lying was just as dangerous. Azriel’s shadows twitched around me, as if sensing my indecision, ready to tighten their hold should I say something false. Deception would only dig me into a deeper hole, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to claw my way out of it.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing as I tried to find some middle ground—some way to explain enough without revealing too much. I could feel my pulse hammering in my ears, and I forced myself to hold Rhysand’s gaze, hoping that some semblance of honesty might buy me time, might keep me from being seen as an enemy. But how much could I afford to say before they turned their suspicions into action?

And there, in that moment, with all eyes fixed on me, I realized that this might be my only chance to find some thread of trust among them—or to lose it entirely.

I took a shaky breath, my mind still spinning with possible explanations, none of them good enough. My palms felt clammy as I clenched them into fists, pressing them against my legs to keep my hands from shaking. Rhysand’s eyes bore into mine, unyielding, waiting for an answer that might prove my innocence or seal my fate.

“I... I’m not a spy,” I stammered, the words coming out before I could fully think them through. “I swear, I’m not here to harm any of you.”

Azriel’s shadows twitched closer, brushing against my skin like a cold breeze, as if testing the truth of my words. His expression remained impassive, but his shadows were far less forgiving, tightening their circle around me. Cassian shifted in his chair, his playful demeanor gone, replaced with the focused scrutiny of a warrior. Mor crossed her arms, her gaze sharp and unrelenting, while Feyre’s expression softened just a fraction, though wariness still lingered in her eyes.

Rhysand’s lips curled into a tight smile, but it held no warmth. “Then explain it to us, Sy. Explain how you know my name when I never gave it to you. Explain why you seem to know more about us than a simple stranger should.”

My heart pounded faster, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. How could I make them believe me without sounding completely insane? I couldn’t tell them the full truth—that in my world, they were fictional, their lives woven into stories that people devoured hungrily. It would sound like a bad joke or the ramblings of a madwoman, and it wouldn’t change the suspicion already festering in their minds.

But there was no point in holding back now. If I didn’t give them something, they’d assume the worst anyway. I licked my dry lips and tried to speak, my voice trembling but steadying as I went on. “I can’t explain it in a way that will make sense... but where I come from, there are stories about you—about all of you. Stories that people know and read. They tell of your lives, your battles, your home here. They know your names, your faces.”

Rhysand’s expression remained unreadable, but his posture stiffened. He glanced briefly at Azriel, who held my gaze with an intensity that made it feel like he could see into my very thoughts. Cassian’s frown deepened, while Mor seemed caught between disbelief and intrigue. Nesta’s smile faltered, replaced with a scowl as if she didn’t know whether to laugh at the absurdity of my words or take them seriously.

Feyre’s brows furrowed, her hand twitching slightly, as if she wanted to reach out but held herself back. “Are you saying... that we’re some kind of... legend? That people from your world know about us?” Her voice was softer than Rhysand’s, more curious than accusatory, but the doubt was clear.

I nodded slowly, trying to find the right words to make this sound even remotely plausible. “Yes. I don’t know how it’s possible, but it’s the truth. I knew who you were before I even arrived in this world. I know some of what you’ve been through, the battles you’ve fought, the choices you’ve made... because I read about them.”

Mor let out a breath, an incredulous laugh escaping her. “So, let me get this straight—you’re telling us that you’ve read our lives like some sort of fairy tale in your world?”

I winced at the way she phrased it, knowing how absurd it must sound to them. “It’s more than a fairy tale, but... yes, in a way. It’s as if I knew you before I ever came here. But it’s not... everything.” I glanced down, my voice lowering. “There are gaps, things I don’t understand. It’s not like I know your every thought or intention.”

Rhysand studied me for a long moment, his face a mask of concentration. “If that’s true, then how can we trust that you’re not here to use that knowledge against us? How do we know you aren’t working with someone who would harm this court?”

Desperation crept into my voice as I leaned forward, trying to make them see the sincerity in my words. “Because I don’t have anyone to work with! I don’t know how I got here, or why Hekate chose me. I just wanted to escape the life I had, to find a way to survive. I never intended to be a threat to any of you.”

Azriel’s shadows tightened further, brushing against my arms, my neck, like a warning. “You could be lying,” he murmured, his voice as cold as the touch of his shadows. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve encountered someone with hidden intentions.”

I shivered, not just from the chill of his shadows but from the realization that I might be digging my own grave with every word. I forced myself to meet his gaze, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I know you have no reason to believe me. But I swear, I don’t want to harm anyone. I just want... to understand what’s happening to me.”

Feyre’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of empathy in her expression as she looked between me and her mate. Rhysand’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might dismiss my story outright, cast me out or worse. But instead, he leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his eyes locking onto mine.

“If you truly have knowledge of our world, then you’ll understand why we can’t take your presence lightly,” he said, his tone measured. “We’ve faced enough deception to know that trust isn’t given freely. But I’m willing to give you a chance, Sy. A chance to prove that you aren’t the enemy you might appear to be.”

He turned to the others, his gaze sweeping over each of them before settling back on me. “But know this—if you betray that trust, if you turn out to be a danger to this court or its people, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

I nodded slowly, my throat dry and tight with the weight of his words. “I understand.”

Rhysand’s expression remained unreadable, but he gave a small nod, as if the matter was settled for now. He glanced at Azriel, who reluctantly eased his shadows back, though the tension between us remained, a reminder that this fragile truce could shatter with a single misstep.

Cassian huffed a breath, breaking the silence with a sardonic smile. “Well, this should make things interesting.” He shot me a look that was almost teasing, though his eyes still held a flicker of suspicion. “Welcome to Velaris, Sy. I hope you like surprises.”

Mor shook her head, a bemused smile tugging at her lips. “Of all the strange things we’ve seen, this one might take the cake.”

Elain remained quiet, her gaze still filled with that gentle curiosity, as if she wanted to understand every piece of my story before forming her judgment. Nesta, however, simply crossed her arms, her eyes narrowed as she watched me, no trace of her earlier amusement left.

I took another breath, trying to steady the racing of my heart. It wasn’t trust—not yet. But it was a chance, and for now, that was more than I could have hoped for. And as I looked around the room at the faces of those who would determine my fate, I knew that this fragile alliance was all that stood between me and the unknown dangers of this new reality.

It wasn’t safety, not yet. But it was a beginning. And that, for now, was enough.

After the intense interrogation over breakfast, the atmosphere gradually shifted. It was as if I had always been there, just another person at their table. The conversation flowed around me, and everyone resumed their meal, discussing their plans for the day, and bantering in a way that felt strangely normal. A few minutes later, the door to the dining room opened, and in came a toddler cradled in the arms of his nanny. Nyx.

Excitement rippled through the room as Rhysand, Feyre, and the others turned their attention to the little boy. He was even more beautiful than the stories had described—his mother’s pale skin and his father’s striking, vivid eyes. It was easy to see that he would break hearts when he grew older. With a delighted squeal, Nyx stretched his chubby arms toward his father, and Rhysand immediately reached out, pulling his son into a warm embrace. The sight of him holding his child softened the tension that had settled over the room, a rare, tender moment that I couldn’t help but watch.

Feyre observed her husband and son, her expression gentle, but then her gaze flicked to me, her curiosity sharp. “Nyx... was he in those books of yours too?” she asked, her tone carefully neutral, but the look in her eyes betrayed a mother’s worry—a need to know what the future might hold for her child.

I hesitated for a moment, then nodded, offering a small, tentative smile. “Yes, he was. But only as he is now, Feyre. I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about what’s to come. I don’t know your futures.” My words were sincere, my gaze shifting to Rhysand and Nyx, who were still lost in their own world. “I wish I could say something to ease your fears, to give you certainty, but I can’t.”

Feyre’s expression softened into a sad smile, as if my honesty held a comfort of its own, even if it wasn’t the reassurance she’d hoped for. The rest of the meal passed without incident, a strange sense of normalcy settling over the room despite the tension that still lingered in the air.

After breakfast, I returned to the couch where I had slept, only to find that my belongings had already been neatly packed away. It seemed that the time for introductions and casual conversation was over. When I re-entered the room where they had gathered, it was clear that the real conversation was about to begin.

Rhysand had taken a seat in an armchair by the window, his silhouette framed against the morning light. The others arranged themselves around the room, each choosing a spot that allowed them a clear view of me, their expressions serious. It felt like being in the center of a storm, all their attentions converging on me with quiet intensity. Whatever lay ahead, it was clear that this would be more than a simple chat.

Trying to hide my unease, I took a seat in an empty chair beside Azriel, his shadows still curling subtly at the edges of the room. He watched me with that same, unreadable look, as if weighing every detail of my presence.

Rhysand’s voice broke the silence, his tone serious. “If you’ve decided to stay here, then there are things we need to discuss, Sy.” His words carried the weight of leadership, calm but firm, leaving no room for ambiguity. “You claim to know Velaris, which means you also know that each of us has a role, a purpose within this court.”

I nodded slowly, feeling the tension in the room tighten as all eyes remained fixed on me. “Yes, I know,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. There was no point in pretending otherwise, not when they had already seen through my attempts to hide my knowledge.

Cassian leaned forward, his gaze unwavering, though there was a strange kind of gentleness in his voice that I hadn’t expected. “Then what is your decision? Will you stay, or will you leave?” Nesta stood close beside him, her posture tense, her sharp gaze fixed on me like a predator ready to strike at the first sign of danger.

I took a breath, forcing myself to meet each of their gazes in turn, gathering my thoughts. “Before I can truly decide... I need to understand this place better. To learn what Velaris is beyond just the stories I know,” I admitted, choosing my words carefully. “But if, after that, I find that I can help, then... I would like to be of service. To earn my place here.”

The silence that followed my words felt heavy, like the calm before a storm, as each of them processed my response. Rhysand’s expression remained unreadable, his eyes searching mine as if looking for any trace of deceit. Feyre watched me closely, her hands clasped in her lap, and I could see a flicker of something close to hope in her gaze. Mor and Cassian exchanged a glance, their skepticism not entirely hidden, but there was a note of curiosity there as well.

Azriel’s shadows seemed to stir around him, but he said nothing, his gaze still trained on me, his expression as enigmatic as ever. Nesta’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were trying to decide whether I was worth the risk I might pose to their safety.

Rhysand finally leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if coming to a decision. “Very well, Sy,” he said, his voice quiet but authoritative. “We will give you time to learn, and to prove yourself. But know this—trust must be earned, not given freely. You will be watched, and any hint of betrayal will not be taken lightly.”

I nodded, a small thread of relief winding through the tension that still knotted my chest. “I understand. I don’t expect you to trust me right away.”

Rhysand’s lips curled into a faint, grim smile. “Good. Then we’ll start by showing you what Velaris truly is, beyond the stories you’ve read.” He glanced at Feyre, who gave him a small nod in return. “Feyre and I will introduce you to the city and its people, and you’ll see for yourself what it means to live among us.”

I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered in my chest. This was the beginning of something I couldn’t fully understand—something that could change everything. And as I met the eyes of those who would now shape my path, I wondered if I was ready for what came next.

Whatever it was, there would be no turning back.

Feyre and Rhysand took me through the wonders of Velaris, the city even more beautiful than the books had described. The vibrant colors, the smell of the sea air mingling with the floral notes from the gardens, and the sound of laughter and music drifting from the open windows made it feel almost like a dream. The people of Velaris were kind, even if they couldn’t help but cast curious glances my way. My unfamiliar clothes, my short stature, and my odd ears made me stand out, but no one seemed bothered by my presence.

As the hours went by, the exhaustion began to creep in, mingling with the hunger gnawing at my stomach. The walk had been long—longer than anything I’d been able to manage in my old life. Back there, even making it from my bed to the bathroom was a struggle most days. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t complained about the walk, why I’d stayed silent through the tour. Being able to move freely, to feel the strength in my legs, was a gift I hadn’t realized I’d missed so much.

“Here!” Feyre said excitedly, pulling me from my thoughts. I followed her gaze to a small boutique nestled between the colorful buildings, its windows lined with beautifully crafted dresses and garments. Feyre turned to me, a warm smile lighting up her face as she took my hands. “Your clothes might be comfortable, but it wouldn’t hurt to blend in a bit more, right?”

She was right. In my own world, the odd one out might be an alien—here, that might very well be me. I wasn’t quite that strange, but I certainly stood out. I didn’t want to draw any more attention to myself than I already had, so I allowed her to lead me into the shop.

The woman behind the counter greeted us with a friendly smile, though her expression shifted briefly to surprise when she noticed me. I couldn’t blame her—my clothing might have been normal for my world, but here it was clearly out of place. My pajamas—a long, cream-colored pair of pants and a short-sleeved top of the same color—weren’t exactly suitable for a city like Velaris. Luckily, they’d given me a cloak back at the River House, which helped me look a little less outlandish.

“We’ll need a few dresses,” Feyre said to the woman, drawing her attention away from me. The shopkeeper nodded in understanding and led us toward the racks of clothing, Feyre eagerly following behind her.

Just as I was about to trail after them, a familiar, smooth voice spoke from behind me, making me jump slightly. “Looks like this could take a while,” Rhysand teased, his tone playful.

I turned to find him watching me with a faintly amused smile, and my cheeks flushed under the intensity of his gaze. He seemed to find my reaction amusing, almost as if he enjoyed keeping me on edge. I shifted awkwardly, glancing down at the floor. “Yeah, probably,” I mumbled, rubbing the back of my neck. “But... I don’t have any money, and I’m not sure how I’ll pay you back for all this. I mean, I will, I promise. I’ll pay back every bit of it—somehow.”

Rhysand’s expression softened, and he placed a warm hand on my shoulder, making me look up in surprise. His gaze held a rare understanding as he met my eyes. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he said gently, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “And if you tell Feyre you’re concerned about the cost, she’ll probably just kick us both out of the shop and buy you whatever she wants anyway.”

A startled laugh escaped me—a snort, really—and he chuckled along with me, his laughter lightening the tension in the air. It was such an unexpected moment of shared humor that I almost forgot the strangeness of my situation.

Before we could continue, Feyre’s voice called from further inside the shop, her tone a mix of impatience and amusement. “Are you two coming, or are you just going to stand there all day?”

I turned to see her holding a bundle of clothes, an expectant look on her face. I shot a quick, grateful glance at Rhysand, leaning in to whisper, “Thank you.”

He nodded, a small, understanding smile playing on his lips as he stepped back, allowing me to follow Feyre toward the fitting rooms. With a deep breath, I walked into the next phase of this strange, new life—one that involved trying on dresses that I never would have imagined wearing back in my old world, hoping that somehow, I might find a way to fit into this one.

As I stepped into the fitting room, Feyre handed me a few dresses with an encouraging smile. The fabrics felt luxurious between my fingers, softer and lighter than anything I had worn before. The first dress I tried on was a deep forest green, a shade that reminded me of the lush trees I had seen around Velaris. It was made from a lightweight, flowing material that draped elegantly over my frame, falling just below my knees. The sleeves were long, fitting snugly around my arms before flaring out slightly at the wrists, with delicate stitching along the cuffs that gave it a touch of understated beauty.

The neckline was simple, neither too high nor too low, with a small, embroidered pattern of silver leaves that curled around the edges. It gave the dress a touch of sparkle, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost ethereal, as if the threads themselves were woven from moonlight. I turned slightly in front of the mirror, letting the fabric swish around my legs. It felt light and freeing, a stark contrast to the heavy, stiff clothing I had grown used to in my old life.

Next, I tried on a dark blue dress, the color of a twilight sky. It was sleeveless, with a fitted bodice that cinched gently at the waist before cascading into a skirt that moved like water with each step. The fabric had a subtle shimmer to it, catching the light with every movement. It made me feel graceful, like I could disappear into the night sky and dance among the stars. The skirt flowed down to my ankles, and I couldn’t help but smile as the fabric brushed against my skin, soft and cool. This dress felt like a secret, something precious that whispered of new beginnings and possibilities.

But the one that truly took my breath away was the third—an ash-gray gown with intricate lace detailing around the neckline and sleeves. The lace patterns resembled vines and flowers, delicate and intricate, trailing down the length of my arms and across my collarbones. The dress itself hugged my form in a way that was both comfortable and elegant, with a high neckline that balanced the fitted bodice. It flared out gently below the hips, the skirt billowing around me like a soft mist when I moved.

Feyre’s reflection appeared behind me in the mirror, a knowing smile on her lips as she took in my reaction. “That one suits you,” she said, her voice warm and encouraging. “It brings out the softness in your eyes.”

I hesitated, glancing at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the figure looking back at me. In my old life, I had always worn practical clothes—things that wouldn’t draw attention. But here, in this dress, I looked like I might belong in Velaris, like I was part of this world that I had only ever read about.

“Maybe it’s not so bad,” I admitted, smoothing my hands over the fabric. “It’s... different.”

Feyre’s smile widened as she nodded approvingly. “Different isn’t always a bad thing. Besides, you blend in a little better now.”

I chuckled softly, a little more at ease as I turned to face her fully. The dresses she had picked out had managed to strike a balance between my comfort and the elegance of Velaris, allowing me to feel a part of this place without losing myself entirely.

As I stepped out of the fitting room, I caught a glimpse of Rhysand waiting near the entrance, his gaze sweeping over me with that same unreadable expression. For a moment, I wondered if he saw the changes I was starting to feel—if he could sense the shift in me as I took this small step toward adapting to his world. But whatever thoughts he had, he kept them to himself, simply offering me a nod as if to say, This is just the beginning.

As we walked back toward the River House, we followed the path along the riverbank, the gentle sound of the flowing water a soothing backdrop to the conversation. Feyre and Rhysand walked on either side of me, their curiosity evident as they asked me about my life—questions that seemed simple but carried the weight of genuine interest. They wanted to know how many siblings I had, what my parents were like, the friends I had left behind, and how old I was when I’d made my desperate choice. It made sense—they knew almost nothing about me, even as I knew so much about them.

I did my best to answer, sharing fragments of a life that already felt distant. I spoke of my mother’s warmth, my father’s quiet strength, the siblings I had grown up with, and the friends I had once spent endless hours with. But each word came with a bittersweet ache, a reminder of the world I had left behind, even if it had been filled with pain.

As the river shimmered in the late afternoon sun, Feyre asked me, “Did you have any powers in your world?” She posed the question delicately, as if afraid it might sting, like a bruise that hadn’t yet healed.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly at the thought. “No, not really—unless you count teaching and working with kids as a power!” I said with a small grin, the corners of my mouth lifting despite the melancholy that had settled over me.

Feyre joined in my laughter, the sound light and genuine. “Working with children might be the greatest power of all,” she said with a bright smile, and I could see the warmth in her expression, a spark of humor in her eyes.

Rhysand chuckled beside her, shaking his head. “Especially Illyrian children,” he added, and the two of them exchanged a knowing look, both of them laughing at some shared memory I couldn’t quite grasp.

Feyre turned back to me, her curiosity far from sated. “What else did you do? Before... well, before you became ill?”

I hesitated, but there was no judgment in their eyes, just genuine interest. “Not much, really. But before I got sick, I loved music, painting, theater—anything to do with the arts. And reading, of course. Books became my lifeline when I couldn’t get out of bed. Reading about other people’s stories, listening to their experiences, and maybe even trying to write my own... it kept me going.”

Feyre’s expression softened, and I could see the empathy in her eyes, the compassion she didn’t bother to hide. “You’re welcome to paint with me anytime,” she offered, a tentative smile tugging at her lips. “We could share my studio, if you’d like.”

I stopped for a moment, letting her words sink in. It was a simple offer, yet it felt like so much more—a chance at something normal, a small piece of the life I had thought I’d lost forever. I looked up at her, my voice barely more than a whisper. “I’d love that.”

Before I could say more, Rhysand’s playful voice cut through the moment. “Our guest’s stomach is growling so loudly that even those in the House of Wind might hear it. I think it’s time we head home.”

I hadn’t realized just how hungry I was until he mentioned it, and I couldn’t help but laugh softly, a bit embarrassed. But before I could respond, Rhysand reached out and took both of our hands, his grip warm and reassuring. The world blurred around us as he used his magic to winnow us back to the River House, the familiar warmth of magic wrapping around us like a gentle breeze.

In the blink of an eye, we reappeared in the entrance hall of the River House. The air was cooler here, and the scent of something delicious wafted through the air, making my stomach rumble again.

As we steadied ourselves, I realized we weren’t alone. Waiting for us in the hallway were Azriel, Cassian, and Mor, each of them with expressions that ranged from curiosity to amusement. Cassian, arms crossed over his broad chest, flashed me a grin that bordered on teasing. “So, did they bore you to death with the grand tour of Velaris?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “No, not at all. It was... incredible. More beautiful than I ever imagined.”

Azriel’s gaze was steady, his shadows swirling lazily around him as he observed me. “Did you learn anything new about our city?” he asked, his voice carrying that quiet intensity that made it hard to tell if he was joking or serious.

I hesitated for a moment, then shrugged slightly. “Maybe not new, but seeing it in person... it felt like seeing a dream come to life.”

Mor stepped forward, her smile warm and genuine as she clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t scare you off,” she said lightly, her tone teasing. “I was starting to think we’d have to chase you back to the forest.”

Rhysand gave a mock sigh of exasperation, shaking his head. “You wound me, Mor. I think we’ve done a fine job of being gracious hosts.”

Mor rolled her eyes at him, but her smile never faded. “Sure, sure. Now, why don’t we let our guest get something to eat before she collapses from hunger?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound lighter than it had been in a long time. And as we all made our way into the dining room, the air seemed a little less heavy, the shadows a little less daunting. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to find a place among them—this strange, new family that had taken me in, despite all the uncertainties.

And as we sat down to share a meal, the warmth of their laughter and conversation filled the space around me, wrapping me in a sense of belonging that I hadn’t realized I’d been missing so desperately. It wasn’t home—not yet—but for the first time, I felt like it could be.

[mattzerella-sticks]

On one hand, part of me thinks that the Time Quangle has to do with this unidentifiable rage god, going back in time to either prevent being forgotten or get revenge against those who made them a forgotten deity and, ultimately, 'dead'. On the other hand, the time quangle might possibly be due to the Rat Grinders going back in time to ensure the Bad Kids never become friends since they hate them so famously.

And on the third hand this time quangle could be wholly removed from the main plot and be about something totally inconsequential, or even related to one of the Bad Kid's running bits - like Fig's disguises. Wanda Chillda could be the time quangle, and no one would ever know because she's so mysterious and tiny!

[tsalmu]

Unidentified Deity (Nebo?) Arslan Tash, Syria c. 740 BCE

Housed in the Syria-Aleppo Museum

[entheognosis]

Soma, in ancient India, an unidentified plant the juice of which was a fundamental offering of the Vedic sacrifices. The stalks of the plant were pressed between stones, and the juice was filtered through sheep’s wool and then mixed with water and milk. After it was offered as a libation to the gods, the remainder of the soma was consumed by the priests and the sacrificer. It was highly valued for its exhilarating, probably hallucinogenic, effect. The personified deity Soma was the “master of plants,” the healer of disease, and the bestower of riches.

The God of Soma

by Martin Kubala

[baddreamland]

Fragment of basalt clepsydra (water clock); on the exterior surface are representations of Philip Arrhidaeus offering to the deities Min, Sekhmet, and an unidentified goddess; Hieroglyphic text.

clepsydra

[themushroombitch]

what should my OC's name be

it is Time.

all names below were submitted.i tossed a bunch for various reasons (name of a real person, could tell i would hate writing it, etc) and then used a random number generator to narrow it down. except Astraeus because TWO people submitted it so i figured it should go on here

Propaganda (names not listed were submitted w/o propaganda):

Agatha: "old lady name good"

Astraeus: "It's a name of a Greek god who was an astrological deity and is also associated with wind. The name is derived from the Greek word for star and it is also an scientific name for a fungi that is in the shape of a star. Also I just think it's neat" and also "After astraeus hygrometicus, for OC’s potential mushroom-hood and unidentifiable starlight hair. “Astraeus hygrometricus, commonly known as the hygroscopic earthstar, the barometer earthstar, or the false earthstar, is a species of fungus in the family Diplocystaceae” -wikipedia"

Clementine: "beautiful name"

Gift: "It means poison in german and if they're a fungus they might as well kill ppl :)"

Aamina: a behind the name link was submitted

Latte: "i wanted to name my dog this but i was outvoted. latte this is your second chance"

Erigeron: "it's the name of the genus of plants including daisy fleabane and robin's plantain, which i learned to identify recently on a trip to great smoky mountains national park. i think they're really charming flowers. also, the geron part you might recognize as the greek root for old man, which fits with the baldness i guess, though in this case the genus is called such because parts of the fruit & flower look like white hair at certain stages. it's not the prettiest sounding name though :("

[lmk-aus-galore]

Cinema Sins/Wins Rip Off of Lego Monkie Kid.

Yeah yeah I’m back folks, I just decided to take a looong break.

Inspired by @satansaidmyturnintheh3||scape

Rules:

-I won't be counting Animation Mistakes, because Idk how to do that, and I myself am a beginner animator (more like incredibly amateur, to the point I'm asking my sister for help) Unless of course the Animation is obviously and clearly having a mistake for me to watch.(Or it is said in the wiki) The other reason is because I don't want to keep repeating a scene just to check for an animation mistake.

-!This is mostly for entertainment purposes, sorry if I sound too mean!

-I also won't be counting flashbacks as 'mistakes' because most of them are based on bias.

-I'll be formatting it like this

-Neutral

-Sin

-Win

Let’s get started.

——————————————-

-Intro.

._.

-Love how you can see where Mei, Sandy and MK are in this scene.

-On the other hand why does Pigsy have a random game machine beside his shop? I know there are apartment buildings on top of said shop but in Season 2 he actively has authority to remove it.

-Secondly is MK currently on break at the moment or is he just, ‘slacking off’ judging by his clothes he should be currently working.

-Dragon Horse and Stone Monkey.

-Ah yes the underrated trio. Sandy, Mei and MK. Please tell me this group has a name.

-Bad time to call your daughter.

-The way Mei is so nervous to talk to her mother and the way she talks as if her mother doesn’t even give her enough time to explain, like I think Mei’s Mother is cutting her off at times here and it’s not really okay. It feels like Mei is talking to her boss than her Mom.

-Sandy for the win.

-The finishing move is a spin of the staff and a hit to the leg…wow MK.

-I really love how Sandy is just casually friends with these guys. Like these guys just met Sandy a few weeks ago and all of a sudden they said ‘Let’s be friends’

-Ok MK you should really get social cues…or at least let Mei get a word in-

-‘I always wanted to see Mei’s secret Dragon House full of secret Dragon stuff’ makes me wonder why no one believes in the Monkey King stories. Either that or why Mei isn’t being worshipped like a deity by now.

-Also MK, kinda creepy…but to be fair Mei put cameras on all of you…

-BRO THIS BULL CLONE HAS EVERYTHING ON HER?!

-Why does this Bull Clone pull out the same Two Pictures twice?

-Mei doesn’t smile in her photo, along with the rest of her family :(

-In fact she looks kinda restricted.

-Also Key detail, looks like Mei’s little green hair things are dyed!

-PIF confirms that Sha Wujing’s spear and Zhu Bajie’s rake are Celestial Weapons that later tie into Season 4

-We also have the Calabash, PIF’s fan, Wukong’s staff, Nezha’s spear and two of the Samadhi Fire Rings…though I think by this time of development this probably is Nezha’s little ring thingys in his shoes? Not really sure. The only one we don’t know about is the unidentified sword and the random rope.

-Also is she implying that her own fan is a powerful artifact? I guess that makes sense…?

-Why does PIF’s animation always stretch her or squish her I can’t take her seriously XD worse that it’s usually the face.

-Mei wanting to be a normal child is so sad. On the other hand why don’t we have more fanfics of Mei and her family dynamic? Come on people the angst is right there!

-When you think about it, the High-Tech security might’ve been the reason Mei became the ‘Tech Girl’ in the group. Since her family dabbles in High-Technology it’s only obvious she grew curious of that stuff.

-On the other note, what’s with Ancient families and suddenly getting a grasp at handling High-Technology? Like bro Red Son and Mei have so many parallels to each other it’s insane.

-MEI THIS IS WHY YOU DONT LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN.

-You know Red Son you might need to double down in calling Mei a peasant because uhh…wow, the place is huge.

-Mei’s room doesn’t have a door, which shows how shitty these people actually are.

-Also Mei has a lot of rock aesthetic posters, including one with a spider meaning Mei canonically had a rock phase. That or a goth phase so goth Mei is probably canon.

-Why I thought of rock is because of the two sets of guitars she has, one being an electric guitar.

-Mei also has a skateboard indicating she used to skate.

-She has an indoor TV with two game controllers (Why didn’t they just play in her bedroom?)

-And finally she has some things I think her parents would’ve given her such has the pony statue and the meditation carpet on the floor.

-Also apparently she plays the piano? Or is that even a piano?

-The legend of Mei’s sword is kinda cool actually.

-WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH IT?! HOW DO YOU DECIDE WHO GETS TO WEILD IT THEN?!

-I have a feeling I know why no one has been able to hold that sword in like…ever (They all look so mean)

-‘You two boot up the old TV!’ What TV? There is literally no TV there? Is there a TV off-screen? Even so where would you put said TV? And again, why not your room?

-MK control your strength- how the hell does that even happen?

-Bull Clone literally just yeeted his hat at him.

-Said Bull Clone took the precious Dragon Sword despite the fact that he was struggling to get it off the statue

-Mei calls her Motorcycle like a horse, get it? Dragon Horse?

-Okay now I don’t blame MK I think that pinball machine is old. BECAUSE HOW DOES THAT JUST HAPPEN?!

-Mei this house should at LEAST take up a whole acre, HOW BIG IS YOUR HOUSE?!

-Mei fixing her bike is while she is chasing the Bull Clone is badass as hell. We do not talk about her enough.

-Pro tip: Never mess with Mei.

-This is why we need to give this family some doubt, okay if literally all her ancestors are dissing her and insulting her to her face because of the way she acts then maybe you shouldn’t turn a blind eye.

-‘You know what I am part of this family! I am Mei! Descendant of the Great Dragon of the West Sea, this is mine! And this is my House!” You go girl, show these guys a what you’re made of!

-A very good take on Mei accepting who she is despite her family’s expectations on her. She’s part of the family but she knows that she needs to stand up for herself. Good bravo.

-IS IT JUST ME OR IS THAT THING BIGGER THAN NORMAL?!

-I wonder what the parents’ reaction was, Holy cow this might’ve been QUITE the sight.

-Yep that Bull Clone is straight up dead.

-MK I think that machine is really just old.

-Lol, Sandy making sure MK doesn’t lose focus.

-‘Somebody forgot our luggage’ then she stares directly at the dad and said dad doesn’t give a damn.

-The fact that Mei has to apologize first before getting praised is messed up as hell. If someone is trying to steal a really powerful relic such as that, then obviously it’s gonna be chaos, but the fact she has to apologize first before they acknowledge she did something good is messed up.

-But to be fair I think they do love Mei, really, but the way they parent just icks me.

-And Mei’s mom sounds like she pulled that whole talk out from google.

-Mei’s dad sounds…familiar hold up-

-KNEW I HEARD THAT VOICE SOMEWHERE. (Also apparently Mei’s mom is the same VA as Mei, so Stephanie Steph is just talking to herself)

-Poor MK…

[grimulf-of-the-wilderness]

𝕎𝕚𝕤𝕙 𝕌𝕡𝕠𝕟 𝔸 𝔽𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣

Closed Starter Care Of @amireallythelast

What's left of your past is just a view....

The hurried growth and the constant change of Teyvat had pushed Grimulf to the edge, questions upon questions, piled up and lead this nomad into the wild unknown.

The Dark Sea.

Where a void of never ending wasteland existed beyond the dominion of the realms known deities. An eternal heaven, or hell depending on one's perspective.

A seemingly unending vortex of nothingness stretched out upon the horizon, save for an object positioned to the North. It beckoned like a shining star of hope.

Curiosity motivated each tentative step within this liminal space should this unidentified object turn out to be another ghostly remnant of a fallen god, hell bent on chasing him out of their territory.

Luckily it was just a door.

A luminescent, blindingly white, shining door that gave no hint as to where it would lead.

What did he have to lose? Absolutely nothing. So, the hilichurl who defied stepped within the portal only to be immediately whisked away to another dimension via the speed of light.

Another world, another time.

Falling from the sky, like a pox upon the their realm he hit the ground with a thud. Grimulf's anemo ability managed to slow the impact down in order to avoid serious injury but it didn't soften the blow entirely and he passed out for a time.

Fully content to slip into that mental plane where he's already been to where he's going. Where the dreamer dreams of dreaming.