#Ram Temple trust

[youryurigoddess]

On love and sacrifices

There’s so much more to this scapegoating business and big sacrifices referenced in the Good Omens narrative than the literal goats. And they’re only getting bigger, louder, final.

But let’s take it slow and start with the beginning, quite literally — i.e., with the Good Omens 2 title sequence. As we follow Aziraphale and Crowley on their journey, the universe warps and their usual left and right side positioning switches during the magic show (not accidentally an act of trust and sacrifice required both from the angel and the demon). They stay so throughout the next scene, which is their little dance in the air, and after they seemingly get settled on the A. Z. Fell and Co.’s roof and back to normal, the flipped sky in the background suggests that something’s not quite right yet. In the central part of the shot looms a large, humanlike shadow of the Elephant Trunk Nebula.

The nebula is a part of a constellation called Cepheus, after an Ethiopian king from the Greek mythology who agreed to sacrifice his only daughter in order to appease the gods and end a local calamity started by her mother and his wife, Cassiopeia (talk about generational responsibility). With time and a delightfully ironic twist of fate, the name of said daughter, Andromeda, became more famous than that of her father. Although she was chained up to a rock and offered to the sea serpent Cetus, the girl was spotted by the warrior Perseus, casually flying over the sea — either on the back of the Pegasus or thanks to a pair of winged sandals — after his victory over Medusa. He fell in love on the spot, defeated the serpent (with the help of a magical sword or Medusa’s severed head, depending on the varying sources), and freed the princess. That’s not exactly where their story ends, but we won’t be getting into the rest here.

Not surprisingly, Neil has mentioned two parallel child sacrifice stories from the biblical context back in August. The first is one of the big ones — The Binding of Isaac. God's command to sacrifice Isaac, his only son, was a test of Abraham's faith. The angel of the Lord intervenes and provides a ram to be sacrificed in the boy’s place.

The second one isn’t nearly as popular, but you might have heard a variant of it in fairy tales or as the Law of Surprise invoked in The Witcher saga. In exchange for Israel’s victory over its enemies in battle, Jephthah had rashly promised God to repay the debt with the first thing seen on his return back home. The victorious warrior didn’t suspect to see his only child moving innocently "to meet him with timbrels and with dances" though. In horror, Jephthah covered his eyes with his cloak, but to no avail: ultimately, he was forced to honor his vow to God, and the girl was sacrificed. As grisly as it might look like in the Old Master’s paintings, it’s important to remember that human sacrifices weren’t limited to physical offerings only — Jephthah’s daughter might have been offered to God in the sense of officially shunning her family and dedicating her life to service instead, probably sequestered in a temple somewhere.

Interestingly, the main character of a big chunk of the Bible and the reason for the Second Coming happens to be THE most influential child sacrifice in the modern history. You know, a certain 33-year-old carpenter sent by his Heavenly Father to die on a cross for the sins of the mankind? Someone better call Aubrey Thyme ASAP.

Circling back to Aziraphale, he could be also seen as a representative of the concept of filial piety, since Eden willing to personally take a Fall not only for the humanity’s collective or individual transgressions, but the shortcomings of his Ineffable Parental Figure as well. Our favorite angel angel always fights for what is right and good, sure, but why would that be even a thing if God was truly omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent?

If Aziraphale’s medal is anything to go by, it looks like we might get an answer from the way it’s introducing another mythological narrative into the game, that is the story of Daedalus and Icarus. The most absorbing thing about this is the stark contrast to the recurring child sacrifice references for S3 mentioned in this post — Daedalus isn’t a father who wanted to sacrifice his son, it was his attempt to save him from imprisonment that ultimately drove Icarus to his death. The boy ignored his father’s explicit instructions, committing the grave and culturally universal sin of disobedience to one's parents that simply couldn’t go unpunished, one way or another.

But Icarus’s transgression could be seen both as high-flying ambition and striving for personal accomplishment as well as humanitarian sacrifice for knowledge and humanity’s advancement in general.

Similarly to a certain angel who left everything for what superficially seems like a work promotion, but is the ultimate act of love — both for his demon and the children they have been protecting and nurturing together for six thousand years. From the very Beginning, his white wings have been shielding everything he holds dear in this world.

[studio-of-woof]

(This has nothing to do with that AU thing I have cooking up. With that out of the way… let’s get this show on the road)

THE BANDIT PRINCESS

A Fanfic based on The Amazing Digital Circus!

CHAPTER 1: Runaway Princess.

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Screams.

All she could hear were screams.

Screams of her people. Her kingdom… Now in ruins…

After the gate was left unlocked by a certain purple lagomorph, the Candy Canyon Kingdom was left vulnerable to a gluttonous, terrible monster known as… The Fudge. Each and every one of the townfolk tried to run, hide, even some tried to fight back. But it was no use…

The Princess of the kingdom, Loolilalu, could only watch on in pure horror at the state of the place. She didn’t run, or rather, she couldn’t. She stood still, frozen in fear.

It wasn’t long until the goopy monster noticed her by herself, chuckling to himself before starting to charge at her from behind… Loo snapped out of it upon hearing him slither his way over.

She braced for the inevitable…

Until… a truck horn was heard.

Without a moments notice, Loo jumped out of the way of the incoming vehicle as it crashes into The Fudge, briefly sending him back a little as he rubs his temple. He grumbles in pain.

“My face! My monstrous, ugly face!” He yelped.

Loo sits up to look over at the truck as it skids and comes to a stop in front of her. One of the truck doors open to reveal a short and stubby purple gummy gator in the passenger seat.

He calls out to her, “Princess! Hop in!”

Loo didn’t know what to think, but she’d be safer inside that truck than out in the open. After a moment of hesitation, she climbed into the truck, seating herself behind the passenger and driver’s seat.

In the driver’s seat sat another gummy gator, this one was tall with a yellowish-orange hue and long arms. He stomps onto the accelerator and the truck speeds off, but not without the The Fudge in hot pursuit.

“W-Wait! But what about my people??” Loo cried out. Looking onwards at all the wreckage.

“Sorry your highness, but there’s no time and not enough room in this truck!” the tall gator exclaimed. The truck rushes out of the gate with The Fudge not too far behind, seems like ramming into his face made him angry, and he wasn’t letting up.

“When I catch up, I will feast on that truck WITH YOU IN IT!” he roared. As they stray further from the kingdom, the shorter gator looks out the window to check if they’re still being chased.

He turns to his partner in the driver’s seat, “He’s not backing down! I told ya we should’ve just honked at him!”

“He’d just eat the truck if we only honked at ‘im! Ramming speaks louder than a honk!” the taller one argues back. He looks at the interface of the truck and his eyes dart to a knob. Suddenly, he gets a risky idea. The truck accelerates to get a good enough distance from the oversized beast, then skids to the side.

“Why did you stop??” Loo panicked, “He’s coming right towards us!”

“Princess, I need you to trust me on this. Reach over to that knob near in front of Max there!” He points to the knob in front of the purple gator, who’s name is revealed to be Max. Loo reaches her hand onto it.

“Now, on my go, you’ll need to turn that knob clockwi– no, ANTI-clockwise, okay?” he yells.

Loo looks at him, alarmed, “What?? What does this even do?”

Before the taller gator could answer, they hear The Fudge bellow out a roar as he charges directly to them, maw agape. As soon as he just about reaches the truck, the tall gator shouts, “GO!”

Loo cranks the knob, as she does, large green spikes protrude through the sides of the truck. Max, Loo and the other gator collectively scream in fear as the monster almost devours the truck… but he immediately spits it out upon his throat making contact with the spikes.

“GRRRAAAAAAOOOGHHHH! TOO SHARP! TOO SHARP!” The Fudge yelps in pain, and retreats away.

The trio reopen their eyes, both the gators quietly exit the truck to check if the candy-eating behemoth had finally left. Sure enough, he did, they both breathe a sigh of relief.

“Hahh… crikey… That was a close one, eh?” Max pants. Loo shakily steps out of the vehicle and sits herself down, staring at the ground. Both of the gators turn towards the fearful princess and sit down beside her.

“My… my kingdom… all of my royal subjects… gone!” she muttered under her shaky breath. She looks up to see the two gators next to her. “And… you two… you were the bandits that robbed us. How did…” her eyes dart over to the truck, “I thought the knights captured your tanker to return our syrup supply! Why do you have two of the exact same truck?”

The two bandits look at eachother, then back to Loo.

“Well… It’s a rather long yet funny story actually!” Max explained.

He tells Loo about the chase, how their truck crashed into a large rock, then got sent flying into the air, lost sight of their boss, then landed back into the fudge swamp, got interrogated by a chess piece with a bucket on his head and a liquorice haired lady, then they saw a copy of their truck come flying out of the ground, knocked out the fudge monster and reunited with their boss, and so they took the truck copy back to their village.

Max then asked, “You got all that, your highness?” But Loo just looked even more confused than she was before, her face frozen with a perplexed expression. Max leans over to his taller partner and whispers to him, “I explained that all in enough detail, right Chad?”

Chad nodded back as a reply.

“Your… boss… he wouldn’t have happened to be the bandit fella that the knights were planning to execute, right?” Loo asked them.

“Execute?? Boss didn’t tell us they were going to execute ‘im!” Chad responded, rather shocked. “He told us he was going to be living with them from now on, didn’t exactly explain why, but that clown girl he was with, he seemed to grow rather fond of her!”

Max chimed in with a chuckle, “Methinks Boss has a crush.”

“What?? First that rabbit leaves the gate unlocked, now you tell me that hooligan gets off scott-free for stealing our supply?? This is outrageous!” Loo angrily stands up, looking over Max and Chad, “in fact, you two think you got off scott-free as well for participating in this crime?” She glares at them with a nasty scowl.

Max panics for a moment before he speaks up, “L-Look your highness, yeah we may have stolen your syrup, b-but we promise it was for a good reason!”

Chad joined in, “Yeah! It was for Boss’ mum!”

Loo paused.

“... his mother?”

“She’s fallen terribly ill, syrup is like a medicine for us gummies! So Boss needed all the syrup he could get so his mum can recover.” explained Chad, “We did manage to deliver the syrup in this copy truck back to our village before we caught wind of The Fudge trudging to your kingdom!”

Loo sits back down upon hearing this. “Then… why did you come to rescue me?”

“Well we couldn’t just sit by and do nothin’! It’s not right!” Max stated.

Chad snaps his fingers as he gets an idea, “Hey, why don’t we bring you to the village and have you stay there a while! It’s not much, but it’s a cozy place.”

“What? Absolutely not!” Loo snarled.

“But your kingdom isn’t safe right now! Besides, if you want proof of the reason why we stole from you, Boss’ mum resides in the village, maybe you could meet ‘er!” Max suggested.

Loo hated to admit it, but Max was right, her kingdom’s not safe. It was in the sludgy maws of the behemoth that was The Fudge. And she’d be completely vulnerable camping out in the middle of nowhere. So whether she liked it or not, it appears she needed to form an uneasy truce with the gummy bandits.

“... Very well then.” Loo agreed, “I’ll come to the village, and perhaps meet your boss’ mum. But pull any funny business and I’ll have your heads. Is that clear?”

Max and Chad nod frantically.

The three climb back into the truck as they drive their way to the gummy village. Loo didn’t know what awaited her from now on, but she was determined about two things.

Slaying The Fudge, and finding those “knights.”

[erose-this-name]

The Lone God and the Loneliest God

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Narinder opens the heavy door of the temple, it’s hinges creaking through the empty pews. His footsteps echo through its hall.

Lamb greets him, head down over their desk in their office, clawed fingers running through tangled wool between their horns. “... Hello, Nari’.”

“Evening, Lamb. What still keeps you up, after the sun is down?” Narinder says. 

The Lamb yawns, “Accounting, for the year’s grain crop.”

“You gave such tasks to Heket, did you not? You are not quite a god, yet. That body still requires rest.” Narinder says.

“She’s behind on the paperwork, it’s quicker if I just finished it myself… That’s not why you’re here, is it?” Lamb says, still hunched over the desk, not looking up from their work.

“No. But, I suspect you know already why I am.”

“... We can get by without that sacrifice, Narinder. Don’t worry about it.”

Three eyes are narrowed at the Lamb. “You make me your disciple, yet you refuse to let me perform the duties entailed. You ask me for advice, yet you refuse to listen. The Red Crown needs death, Lamb, let him die.”

Lamb sits up in their desk, staring at the stained-glass before them, “You know, I’ve been running the cult with pretty minimal bloodshed ever since you chose me, it’s worked out just fine. You underestimate the alternatives.”

Narinder crosses his arms, “This fear of getting your hands dirty is unbecoming of the god of death. You should revel in it! Even after slaughtering hundreds, thousands, in your crusades… To think a mere sacrificial lamb has become the last god, still frightened of the headsman’s ax.”

Lamb croaks, "... a 'sacrificial lamb’? … ‘sacrificial’ ‘lamb’? ... Is-… is that really all you think of me, Narinder? S-still?”

Narinder rolls his eyes, “Well, I have not said you were a very good one-”

Lamb turns around, pain across their tired face, “We used to just be sheep… But, I don’t even remember that time. Running and hiding from genocidal sacrifices, in the name of YOUR prophecy, is all I’ve ever known. Because of YOUR rebellion! … T-they forced me to watch my family die, Narinder, and then they killed me. And you didn't even have the decency to let me join them… But… But I DID die, Lambert died. And no matter how many times you resurrected the Lamb, I’ve only ever come back as this… lifeless shell. Devoid of choice, of freedom, of rest. All because of this accursed prophecy. Even as a god, I’m even less free. I have nothing but responsibility, can change nothing. Death can not flow backwards…”

“Why not??”

“I DON’T KNOW!” The Lamb yells.

The cat crosses his arms, “You may blame nothing on me, Lamb. You chose to steal the Red Crown. You chose to betray me. Were you to obey me, you would be with them now. And I would have the Crown.”

Lamb screams, “THAT WASN’T A CHOICE! That was an ultimatum, at best! At worst, igniting years of nightmares… You’re no better than the bishops, not one has thought a word of remorse... I was loyal… I trusted you… I didn’t betray you, YOU BETRAYED ME! Yet… in my infinite benevolence… I saw fit to spare you. AND YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO COME INTO MY TEMPLE, BUILT BY MY CULT, AND CALL ME A ‘SACRIFICIAL LAMB’? I AM YOUR GOD. WITNESS ME AND DESPAIR!”

“VESSEL, CALM DOWN!”

“SILENCE !” Bellows the God of Mercy, what was once known as Lamb.

Narinder, through his third eye, sees standing before him not a little lamb, but a towering Bishop. A glimpse of the New Death, the future order, here and now. Summoned by the wishes of the Red Crown.

And that God stares back at former death with four eyes, each smoldering with restless hatred. A predatory ram, the Red Crown between Their spiraling horns. Wool and fleece from the neck down stained black by Their own ichor, and red by the blood of the yet-to-die.

In place of chains, They bear a broken sacrificial blade, symbol of all They will abolish. And in Their hand They wield not a scythe, but a shepherd's cane. Not a harvestman, but a guide. Not an end, but an oscillation. Not a judge, but a jailer, a slaver, a tyrant from which not even death will be an escape from Their flock.

And Mercy’s coming will be heralded by the tolling of church bells hung around Their neck, and the chanting and pounding of war drums of a bloody crusade of the undead and deathless, forever matching across a land where no divine laws of nature will ever again hold sway except for decay and stagnation.

And chief lost amongst those eternal legions and hordes will march a cat, Narinder, forgotten. The lone god and the loneliest god, as much trapped ghosts as the rest.

The Shepherd of Souls will speak back to Their once master, in voices not Theirs, “Nar-in-der?… I remember you, yes. Do you know why I spared you, and the other bishops? Why I continued to allow you five… to live?”

Narinder’s resolve breaks, for only the third time in his eternal existence, he is afraid. “Lamb, I beg of you, calm down. Your body cannot take this… You are not ready, yet…”

“It was not an act of my m e r c y, cat. I wanted to see you five humbled. I wanted you to understand the hope, and the love, and the mourning, and suffering, and the despair of ‘mere mortals’, I wanted you to understand all you’ve done… Were I to slaughter every cat, every worm, every toad, every squid, every spider, I would have been justified. That would have been equal. But no, that is not enough. Perpetual torment would not be enough. No punishment can ever be enough. I will never let you go, One Who Waited. Your soul is mine. Now, bow.”

“… I-… I’m s-sorry…”

“BOW.” The deep command reverberates through the cathedral, shaking it to its foundations.

The former god plummets to the floor, kowtowing before the demon.

“Good… kitty…”

The Shepherd of Souls deflates, retreating back into their physical form, into the Red Crown, into time and possibility. 

The little lamb sways before the cat, spent. The Red Crown sated. Tears roll down their pale, trembling face, over dark bags from twinkling bloodshot eyes. 

Dying words and sobs slip through dry lips, between their pointed teeth and a bleeding tongue, “Nari… s-save me, please…”

The lamb faints, falling into Narinder’s arms.

Narinder sighs, looking down at the wretched creature in his lap. “You're an idiot, Lamb.”

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[inkyquince]

I'm too eepy so I'll go into detail later but fucking...

Content warning, oh god. Blood, lots of blood. Gortash being a nasty. Dark urge reader. Lots of talk about overpowering the dark urge sexually but it's very consensual, just power play. Rough kissing and sex and impact play and stabbing but that's seen as a sexy foreplay. It's also kinda absatatvg and bad lmao, I wrote this at 5am in bed after I woke up and I'm gonna go back to sleep in three seconds.

Fucking Gortash being a freak. Adoring the blood when Dark Urge bites into his neck, hard enough for their teeth to leave marks, scars that have been whittled into his skin over time. Loves the way they kiss him afterwards- if it could be called a kiss. Their mouth soaked in his blood, pressing their tongue into his mouth and he lets them drag the tip over his teeth. Do they doubt that he would bite down on it, or do they not care if he did tried to inflict the pain? Or worse, would they welcome it, and any semblance of restraint would peel away? With his pride holding him back, he'd let them do ungodly things to him, this creature born of murder under the killing moon.

He's thought of them, wearing the same fineries of the nobles that flock around him every day, and his stomach tightens. Dressed up, their hands stained with blood, a true beast among the quivering herd of people with riches sewn into their clothes. Gortash thinks of them in satin and lace and in blood.

But the only thing better than to kneel to this child of Bhaal, is to make them twitch.

Roughly cupping their face, even as they bare they teeth, just to press his lips to theirs, even has they hiss and spit. Gortash thinks of submitting to them as an act of love fondness but him overpowering them is his own act of worship.

They have their cultists to kiss their feet as they deserved the steps to their fathers temple, they have a butler to bequeath them gifts, but he'll be the only one that holds their attention. Their temple resting on his knee, even if he has to bruise their throat in his harsh grip to push them down.

Gortash needs to overpower them, but not in the usual way of needing a brat to become subservient to him, with a kick to their gut. No, he needs to wrestle them down, and show them he's the victor. He'll be dripping blood, a dagger stuck in his side, but he'll win, and they'd feel that their true place is under him, with his hard cock pressing against their side, as he mouths at their neck, uncaring about any who'd stumble upon them.

Ever since returning, his life has felt plastic, serene, sterilised. The Urge, his Urge, reminds him of the Hells, of sulphur staining his skin and blood on his tongue where he had nearly bitten through it as the jailer beats him and mocks him. He hates it. But on the Bhaalspawn, the humiliation of his flashbacks become an aphrodisiac, and he greedily drinks it all in.

So he fucks them against marble floors and prestigious paintings and expensive cloth, as they bite him and scratch him and spill both of their blood. They could ram a dagger through his side and he'd still grip their chin to force them to meet his lips.

The days he spends over powering them, gripping their wrists down as they sink their teeth into his fragile skin, will one day give way to when they stretch out against his sheets, drowsiness settling in, and they stay. Maybe because they don't care about their vulnerability at that moment, or maybe because there's a semblance of trust between them, where he wears a collar of their bites, and they roll over and show their belly for him.

Either way, what bliss.

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 2 - The Pact

Eddie Munson X AFAB! Reader

Chapter warnings: (MDI) 18+ only, mentions of drugs, mentions of sex, mentions of alcohol , adult themes, explicit language.

Edited 02/04/23

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‘I had sex with Eddie Munson, I had sex with my classmate who is also my drug dealer Eddie Munson, I had sex in public with my classmate/drug dealer Eddie Munson, and we’re probably going to do it again… and now we're having milkshakes. Sex and milkshakes.’ 

  Your mind was reeling with repetitive thoughts, the bright fluorescent lighting of the diner only succeeding in throwing your headache into sharper relief; you groaned pressing your fingers to your temples.

"How you feeling champ?" Eddie asks, sitting opposite you in the red vinyl booth, mouth full of a greasy cheeseburger.

"I think I'm gonna puke." You moan, resting your head on your arms. 

He only chuckled, reaching across to ruffle your hair affectionately, you wanted to hit his hand out of the way but you could barely muster a glare.

"You're just coming down from a hefty dose of premium weed and shitty alcohol is all sweetheart, eat something and you'll be right as rain." He said soothingly, offering you his fries with a vigorous shake of the basket. 

“I told you I'm not hungry.” You insisted, stomach churning as you watched him chase a handful of fries with a gulp strawberry milkshake topped with mounds of whipped cream.

“If you don’t eat, then you don’t get a reward.” He said in a sing-song voice.

“What kind of a reward?” You ask, arching an eyebrow in curiosity. He gestures for you to lean closer, looking around conspiratorially, you roll your eyes at the dramatics meeting him in the middle. He was so close you could have counted his eyelashes if you had the time, lips almost brushing yours, you held your breath wondering if he was going to kiss you.

“Well…?” You whispered

“Eat something and you’ll find out, princess.” He winked, dropping back into his seat with a smirk, sliding the basket of fries towards you once more.

“Asshole.” You mumble reproachfully, taking a single fry and barely nibbling the end, nose wrinkling as the salt hit your already dry mouth.

"Dip it in your milkshake." Eddie suggested, pushing your banana shake towards you, amusement dancing in his eyes.. 

"Eddie, the goal is to stop me being sick, not speed things along." You say in disgust.

"Trust me" He insisted firmly.

  With little energy to argue, you dunked the remainder of your fry unceremoniously in the thick creamy liquid, eying the concoction warily. Sucking in a deep breath, you rammed the fry into your mouth, scrunching up your face.

 "Well…?" He asks, laughing at your screwed up expression.

You hated to admit it but it was surprisingly pleasant, the combination of salty and sweet felt refreshing to your alcohol numb taste buds, but best of all the coldness of the shake was mercifully helping to soothe your pounding skull.

"Not bad." You said flippantly, already reaching over to grab the basket of the fries. He scoffed, giving you a look that clearly said 'I told you so' before diving back into his monster burger with gusto. 

It was all oddly domesticated, you thought, any onlooker would be forgiven for thinking you were just another young couple out on a date. But that wasn’t what this was, you and Eddie hadn’t mentioned a thing about dating, and besides you didn’t want to date Eddie, what you wanted was a distraction from Steve you reminded yourself.

You took a few sips of your milkshake, shaking your head as Eddie shoved some onion rings into his already full mouth.

  "So, what did you mean by a pact?" You asked, twirling your straw idly, as Eddie attempted to chew and speak at the same time.

“A pact, you know, a set of rules, an agreement. The whole point of this deal is to get a little bit of fun back in our lives-," He pulled his strawberry milkshake towards him, gulping the last half in one go. "The crushes we have are messy, and the last thing we need is more mess, so the best thing to do is lay out a couple of ground rules."

  "I thought you didn't go in for rules Munson?" You goaded with a smile, lightly kicking his leg under the table. 

"Gotta have some rules sweetheart, otherwise how are you gonna break any." He teased, giving you a kick back. He pulled a bunch of napkins from the dispenser next to him, then started patting down the various pockets of his jacket and jeans, evidently coming up short for whatever it was he wanted. "Hey, you got lipstick or something?" 

You looked at him in confusion, but nevertheless extracted your Revlon lipstick from your skirt pocket. "I don't think-” You checked the name on the sticker, “Misty Plum is your shade, 'Fireball Red' would look great with your colouring though." You quipped.

"Ha, ha. Hand it over." He deadpanned, holding out his hand as you passed it over, your curiosity immediately turning to horror as he flipped the cap off and started scribbling ‘#Rule 1’ on a napkin, his tongue peeking out in apparent concentration.

"Eddie!" You shrieked, making a grab for the lipstick "That shit is expensive!"

"Sweetheart, I will buy you another, now shut up and listen." He held it out of your reach. "This napkin is our contract, doesn't need to be notarized, witnessed or any of that other crap, but these are rules we need to agree on and follow if this is gonna work." He gave you a look reminiscent of your Dad, a look that usually accompanied the words 'is that clear?'

You felt chided, flopping back down into the booth with your arms folded petulantly pouting in a silent protest for your abused cosmetics. 

"Good girl." He cooed condescendingly, so being an adult you stuck your tongue out.

 "Real mature princess." He laughed "So, I'm thinking first and foremost, we agree to have fun, and when it's no longer fun we stop" He asked with the lipstick poised above the napkin.

"I stopped having fun when you mutilated my lipstick." You grumbled.

"Would you get over it already?" He said impatiently.

"No."

"Brat."

"Bully."

"Jesus H Christ!" Eddie huffed loudly in exasperation, hauling himself out of the booth. For a wild moment you thought he was going to just up and leave you, instead he approached a care-worn looking waitress cleaning tables, who handed him something.

"There I have a pen, happy now?" He asked haughtily, dropping back into the booth with a thud. He capped your lipstick, rolling it back towards you none too gently, scrunching up the lipstick covered napkin and grabbing a new one.

"Yes." You replied quietly, pocketing it, not liking the sour atmosphere between you and feeling awkward for causing such a fuss over a $2 lipstick so you added a quick "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He said curtly, before rubbing a hand over his face and changing to a softer tone.

"Look sweetheart, if you've changed your mind and you don't want to do this, it's totally fine, no hard feelings." He reassured you adding in a lower voice as the waitress walked past. "But believe when I say that little rendezvous of ours will be in my spank bank for many months to come." His grin so rakishly cheeky that you couldn't help crack a smile in return.

  You mentally weighed up your options, Eddie was offering you an out, you could chalk the whole thing up to an intoxication induced lack of judgment, never to speak of ever again.

You could go back to losing entire days pining away in your bedroom for Steve; staring at the Polaroid of you both pretending to pose like Han Solo and Princess Leia in front of a Star Wars poster at work.

Wearing his sweater to bed, the one he let you borrow that one evening when you got cold watching Robin play in band, holding it hostage ever since hoping he never asks for it back.

Then there were the 4 hour-long lovelorn calls to Robin, in which you asked her things like 'do you really think Steve liked the perfume I was wearing or if he just said it to be nice'. 

Or, you could bite the Eddie shaped bullet and take the chance that you might be able to squeeze some fun into your otherwise pathetic life. 

You glanced up at Eddie, there was something about him which coaxed out a side of you you wanted to see more of. 

Even now after years of being friends with Steve you often find yourself incapable of holding a real conversation without tripping over basic words, blushing so fiercely he's actually asked you before if you had a fever.  

Around Eddie you were somehow sharper, funnier, probably because you had the added advantage of not being in love with him. It was like split personalities, and apparently the Eddie version of you was a nymphomaniac type of girl who had sex in public, whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen, but did it matter when you were having fun?

You had made up your mind.

  "I had a lot of fun tonight, more fun than I have had in a long, long time. And I'd like to continue, having fun." You admit. "If you still want to?" You added wondering if Eddie had maybe changed his mind and was just trying to let you down easy. 

"Wouldn’t be here if I didn't, sweetheart." He assured you, gathering the pen and napkin. “So let’s make this fun official.” Eddie said grinning broadly once again, writing carefully.

#Rule 1 - Have fun, the pact ends when either party is no longer having fun. 

    You picked up your milkshake, squeezing into the booth next to him.

"Anything else?" He asked, leaning back to give you a better look.

There was a definite grey area to the arrangement you were concocting, both of you were doing this as the people you actually wanted to be with were unavailable, this was purely a physical outlet. What if Steve and Nancy did break up, surely Eddie knew you’d want out straight away, same with him if Chrissy and Jason split?

What if you bumped into some Prince Charming on the street, would you feel the need to pass up the opportunity because of Eddie?

"Um, dates with other people? We're allowed to go on them?." You queried, trying to get a feel for how he felt on the subject.

"You mean in the very rare event, we manage to get dates?" His laugh quickly turned into a grunt of pain as you elbowed him in the ribs.

"Alright dates with other people are allowed and don’t affect the pact," he agreed, still rubbing at his side, wincing, "but with one amendment."

  #Rule 2 - Dates are allowed, both parties must tell each other. Don’t get jealous.

"Fair enough." You conceded reading sideways, you picked the bacon out of his forgotten burger whilst he pretended to swat you away like a fly.

“Which neatly brings us to rule number three.” Eddie said, giving you a pointed look as you reach across him to grab his milkshake glass. "Communication."

"You wanna get walkie-talkies or something?" You ask absentmindedly, trying to fish the cocktail cherry out from the bottom of the glass with two straws acting as chopsticks. He watched trying not to crack a smile, when you looked delighted to have finally seized the cherry only for it to plop back to the bottom, your face dropping with it.

"No G.I. Joe.” He said sarcastically, taking one of the straws and stabbing it through the cherry, passing it to you. “I mean we make sure we talk to each other, check in every now and then emotionally to see if we're still happy about the arrangement, going back to rule number one, and rule number two." 

"All this talk about emotions Eddie, I never knew you cared." You drawled, chewing on the cherry, fluttering your eyelashes and making kissy faces at him, squeaking in shock when he grabbed your face kissing you hard.

  You didn’t know what to do as his tongue licked into your mouth, well, your body knew what to do, effectively going limp in his hold; heat rushing to your belly, lips moving against his. Your mind on the other hand was filled with alarms, wasn’t this too familiar? You hadn’t discussed what was acceptable outside of fooling around, you figured you’d act like you were nothing more than casual friends because that’s what you were? This was about sex, fun casual sex, nothing more.

Just as you were going into full mental shutdown, he pulled away looking smug.

"And that’s what I'm talking about, you make kissy faces at me like that, I'm going to assume you want me to kiss you.” He was toying with you, knowing damn well he only did it to prove a point. “But if you only want me to kiss you when we're fucking then we need to be clear about it, understand?” You could only nod, effectively rendered speechless, as he wrote out the last rule underlining for good measure. 

  #Rule 3 - Communication.

Still not trusting your voice to come out a few octaves higher than normal, you busied yourself by grabbing the napkin as though there was more to read than three simple rules.

"Should we sign it or something?" You ask

Eddie laughed. "Wanting to get my autograph for when I'm a famous Rockstar?" He teased, but jotted his initials on the left bottom corner of the tissue paper. You ignored him, pen hovering slightly, ‘you can still back out’ the sensible part of your brain whispered, you shook your head slightly signing your initials in the bottom right corner.

It was done, the pact was made. 

Eddie folded the napkin up and put it carefully in the inner top pocket of his jacket, the same pocket that had the condom in earlier. You fell quiet, once again at a crossroads, what happened now would you just see each other at school? Turn up at the other’s house when you fancy a quickie.

“Anyone ever told you, you think too much?” Eddie said leaning back in the booth, arm stretched out behind you.

“Robin mostly, and my Dad” You admit.

“And they’re right, you look like you’re about to have an aneurysm.” He laughed. “You need something to calm you down.” 

“Oh yeah like what?” You rolled your eyes, fiddling with the pen lid, noticing in your peripheral he had moved closer to you.

“Like the reward I promised you.” He muttered, tracing a finger through the remnants of whipped cream that lingered around the rim of his milkshake glass, you watched entranced, breath quickening, as he brought the finger to his mouth, licking up to his ringed knuckle. "Seems only fair, you ate when i told you, so how about you and I go back to the van and I eat your pussy out before dropping you home hmm?"

You felt your jaw drop in an almost comical fashion, Eddie taking full advantage swiping his thumb across your plump lower lip.

"Is that a yes baby? Remember what we just said about communication." He teased, his other hand coming down to stroke the exposed part of your thigh, grinning at the shiver which passed through you.

"Yes please." You all but whimpered.

"Good girl." He praised, grabbing your hand and pulling you quicker than lightning from the booth, leaving only a few crumpled notes, the sounds of your giggling following you out of the diner.

[wellthebardsdead]

Lucy: *steps into the devils den slightly* Voss, out here.

Voss: you made it! Good, please you must accept the devils deal whatever he asks you must-

Lucy: shhh. Shhh… I’ll handle this. Meet me downstairs. *smiles warmly*

Lae’zel: you must trust her, Kithrak.

Voss: *nods* yes… I will. I will meet with you downstairs. *walks by them and freezes as Lucy takes his face in her hands and gently heals his wound*

Lucy: That looked painful… go on. *smiles and let’s him go*

Voss: *touches the healed wound in surprise before nodding his head in thanks and leaving*

Lucy: *looks to the group* wait out here.

Everyone: WHAT?!

Lucy: I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. *smiles and walks into the room, closing and locking the door behind her* Right. Cards on the table. I’ve entertained your little performance long enough because I find you amusing. But quite frankly I’m tired and not looking for a fight, and I’ve had you pinned for checkmate for sometime now.

Raphael: is that so? Care to elaborate?

Lucy: you want me to get you the crown of karsus in exchange for the Orphic hammer that I need to set Orpheus free. With that you intend to unite the hells under your rule as- *clears her throat and gestures with her fingers* ‘arch devil supreme’ and move on to conquer other realms.

Raphael: *not surprised she’s figured it out given how she’s been leaps and bounds ahead of him at this point* indeed. And I have a proposition for you in fact. With the crown in hand I can free you from whomever the devil is that’s taken over Zariels reign when I take their head along with all of the other arch devils whom oppose me. And you can rule at my side as my consort.

Lucy: *snorts* you sound like Astarions bad ending. *laughs and sighs as her head tilts to the side with the weight of her horns as a third set begin to grow again making a crown of six fit along her brow and temple like a ram* my answer is no. Now let me ask you, a question dear… If your father with all the powers of a Demi god and an arch devil had the foresight not to use the crown, what makes you think you’ll succeed with only a fraction of that power? You won’t even be able to get past my layer.

Raphael: your- layer?… no- *finally realising she’s not just a favoured warlock or mortal acting on behalf of another devil and feeling like an idiot for not adding it up sooner*

Lucy: *grins* And- one more question… *transforms into her arch duchess form in all her hellish glory, the heavenly glow already burning brighter than hellfire as Selûne and Lathander both recognise her good deeds* Why, shouldn’t I just go tell your daddy dearest. What you’re up to? I’m certain he’d Looooove, to know.

Raphael: y-you wouldn’t dare. Not after I helped your- spawn cure himself and those other pathetic whelps!

Lucy: help is a strong word when it was in fact a deal. And oh… I would- *snaps her fingers making a portal to mephistar appear* give me the hammer. Set hope free and swear you’ll never let harm come to her again… and I. Won’t tell your father what you’re up to.

Raphael: *pure uncontainable rage clear on his face* y-you- You can’t do this!!

Lucy: oh but I can. And I will. *walks towards the portal, her foot literally through it as she moves to step into the palace*

Raphael: NO! Okay! Fine! You win! I’ll do it! I’ll do anything just- *sighs looking visibly defeated*

Lucy: *looks back at him playfully* promise~?

Raphael: *summons the hammer and a blank contract* whatever your terms… I’ve no choice but to agree to them…

Lucy: *smiles* good. *walks to him and writes out the contract, reading over it to be certain of no loopholes before signing it and handing it to him*

Raphael: *sighs and begrudgingly signs it, only for a pair of cufflinks to appear on his sleeves bearing her symbol* what? *looks at the contract again, eyes widening in visible surprise*

Lucy: there was an opening in my court since I got rid of Mizora. And, under my banner. You’ll be safe-

Raphael: from my father…

Lucy: Mhm. And if anyone questions your actions up until now you say-

Raphael: I was doing it for you…

Lucy: bingo. Now. Go let hope go and apologise to her.

Raphael: …Can you just kill me instead-

Lucy: *takes the hammer and slaps his ass with her free hand* go!

Raphael: PLEASE DONT MAKE ME DO THIS! *watches her leave* … *re-reads the contract, still in a state of shock* I’m… her consort… *watches as a ring appears suddenly on his finger* … *hugs the contract to his chest and falls back on the bed* I’m married.

*meanwhile*

Gale: what did he ask of you?! What did you sign?!

Lucy: *putting the hammer in her bag of holding, the emperor still silenced after she snapped him away again* Technically, my marriage license.

*also meanwhile*

Mephistopheles: what is your report?

Haarlep: excellent news! It turns out the young master was attempting to retrieve the crown at the behest of the new arch duchess so she may ingratiate herself to you your grace. Oh and. They just recently got married.

Mephistopheles: …WHAT?! OF ALL MY SPAWN SHE PICKED THAT WET HANDKERCHIEF?!

[enigma-the-mysterious]

Hi! New here. And I have some stuff to ask from you if that's ok (you seemed the most qualified)

If I'm not wrong, you are a Hindu but a Dalit. What are your thoughts on revision of scriptures? Is it of any help? If not what can be done by us (I'm a Hindu and a Brahmin) to make Hinduism less hostile to Dalits? Cos trust me I have read the scripts and um they are problematic when it comes to this and I find that I can't lie to myself anymore without hindering my journey in faith.

I would love your inputs and am always open to discuss stuff.

All my love 💕

Eh, I wouldn't exactly call myself the "most qualified", I am sure there are other people who have studied these things more extensively and are in a better position to answer these. I am just some gal.

What I can do, is talk about my personal experiences. Like you said, I am a Hindu. I am a Dalit. My relationship with my religion is complex. My faith gave me hope and light when I was at the lowest in my life and it still does. My faith and my beliefs have never really been contingent on any scriptures. Truth be told, I have hardly read any of them. I know they are problematic and the so-called "rules" or "dharma" everyone must abide by are definitely a relic from a bygone era. It doesn't matter to me what the scriptures say, it has never mattered to me. My relationship to my God is highly personal and no text in the world, no so-called "dharma-adhikari" can dictate it.

Does that mean it has always been roses and peaches in my relationship to my religion? Nope. The Uttar Ramayan, for instance, makes me highly uncomfortable as both a woman and a Dalit. I know there are debates about it not being a part of the original Ramayan but well.... It makes me so uncomfortable that, I personally cannot respect Ram as a God anymore. A flawed ruler? Maybe? A God? Nope

So, like I said, I personally don't care much about the scriptures. 'Cause at the end of the day, they are just that- texts on papers.

As to whether I think if revision of texts will help with the currently prevailing discrimination against Dalits, the short answer is no. Long answer? I have spoken about it in more detail (and with a lot more anger and frustration, I guess) here. Advocate for their basic human rights instead. Talk about how practising religious "customs" shouldn't mean that you get to insult someone's basic dignity. Work for changing the present and the future, right now, instead of trying to change the past.

Anyway, I don't think that was very coherent. But I hope I was able to answer some of your questions at least. Thank you for dropping by my askbox <3

EDIT TO ADD: Also, as to make Hinduism less hostile for Dalits, just let them exist in peace? Many Dalits are Hindu, many aren't (you can guess why). When Hindu Dalits want to enter temples and pray to their Gods, just let them? Don't act like a Dalit entering a temple is the end of the world. Don't gatekeep their faith. Just allow them to exist in public places (including temples) in peace

[newspatron]

Ram Temple in Ayodhya | A Symbol of Faith and Struggle for Hindus

If you are interested in learning more about the Ram temple in Ayodhya, and why it is a symbol of faith and struggle for millions of Hindus, then you should read this article.

The Ram temple in Ayodhya is one of the most sacred and revered places for Hindus around the world. It is believed to be the birthplace of Lord Ram, the seventh incarnation of Lord Vishnu, the supreme deity of Hinduism. Lord Ram is considered to be the ideal king, warrior, son, husband, and father, and his life story is narrated in the epic Ramayana. The Ram temple in Ayodhya is not only a place…

[allgirlsareprincesses]

How to Train Your Dragon (2010)

HTTYD1 is basically a retelling of the Bellerophon & Pegasus myth. Bellerophon was instructed by the king to kill the Chimera, a monster which threatened the kingdom. A soothsayer advised him that he would need to ride the legendary winged horse Pegasus to be victorious. On his advice, Bellerophon slept in the temple of Athena, where the goddess visited him in a dream and gave him a magical golden bridle. The hero then traveled to a blessed fountain (pool) in his hometown, and won Pegasus' trust and the right to ride him. Together they faced the Chimera, and ultimately won when Bellerophon affixed a block of lead to his spear and rammed it down the monster's throat. When the Chimera tried to breathe fire, it melted the lead and suffocated itself. Bellerophon then returned to the kingdom and married the princess.

Hiccup's village is threatened by the dragons, but guided by his instincts, he wins the trust of Toothless, the legendary Night Fury. Using what he learns from his new friend, Hiccup builds a saddle and harness so that he can ride the dragon. In the end, they fly into battle against the boss dragon and defeat it by firing a bolt of fire down its throat. Then they return and Hiccup eventually marries Astrid.

Further, in some versions Bellerophon and Pegasus are brothers, both born from the death of the Medusa. Hiccup and Toothless need one another, and are presented as two of a kind, signaled by their matching injuries and interdependent flying system.

Hiccup also experiences a Heroine's Journey, with his father representing his Wounded Masculine and Toothless representing his Missing Feminine.

[teabreakpancakes]

Kinktober: Day Fourteen

Corrupt You Sweetly (Childe x Sub GN Reader)

corruption kink, dacryphilia!

You were naive, innocent, and untainted by everything; the Tsaritsa worked hard to keep it that way. Yet, here you were, all nervous and on the brink of tears on his lap.

"There there, it's alright little one, what we're about to do isn't scary at all" he reassured, caressing your cheek. He just wanted to make you feel good, that's all—he's been aching to do so for so so long.

"But, Ajax, y, you said you were gonna touch me down there, no one has ever touched me there" you pursed your lips, unsure of what to do.

His eyes softened, cupping your face with both of his hands. "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to, I just wanted to be your first but if you aren't comfortable with it I won't continue, your feelings matter most to me" he whispered, pressing a soft kiss onto your temple.

Fidgeting with your hands, you lean against his chest. Ajax would never do anything to harm you and you knew that he'd stop if you asked him to. "I don't mind if you do it, j, just stop if I don't like it okay?" you mumbled, digging your face into his chest.

You could feel his heart rate pick up even more, "I'm so glad you trusted me with this" his whispered, tearing up slightly. "T, Then, can I remove your bottoms?" he asked, placing a finger under the waistband of your underwear.

You nod, watching his fingers gently tug your underwear down your soft thighs. The cool air hitting your intimate areas sends a shiver up your back. The ginger haired man gently slides one of your thighs to the side, watching your expression for any sign of discomfort.

"I'm gonna start touching you now okay?" he informs, giving a reassuring smile. He holds back a chuckle at the sharp gasp leaving your throat when he begins to gently caress your sex.

"Right here? feels good right here?" he cooed, ramming into your sensitive spot. Tears ran down your rose tinted cheeks as you babbled his name like a mantra.

It's been hours. Ajax feels guilty but fuck, your crying face keeps on riling him up. "A, Ajax, 'm so full, sho full 'f you" they sobbed out onto his shoulder. A pleased smirk paints the harbingers face, loving the sound of you being so dazed from how good it felt.

He wanted to fuck you until you became his own little whore. Tainted only by your lovely husband, you were his and only his after all so he didn't see why he couldn't. Not when the Tsaritsa's already given him her blessing and certainly not when he's made it known to every single person in Snezhnaya that you were taken.

His sweet praises sent you over the edge, already sensitive from your previous orgasms. "I love you so much" he singsongs, fucking more of his cum into your cute little hole. Drool trickled down your chin, prompting him to lick it up with a soft groan.

The harbinger could hardly believe that you could make such an expression; looking so fucked out and ruined, and only for him. As much as he felt bad for ruining your innocence, he can only think of molding you into his slut to compensate.

The image of you begging for his cock seemed too good to pass on after all.

@mirology

istg, i hated tagging this, FFS WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MANY NAMES ARGHHH

Did i get off track? yep, i wanted to write more, but then my brain died

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

There will never be anything more despicable than building and celebrating, and forcing a nation to celebrate on the taxpayers money, a temple build on the mass graves of Muslims. The Hindu nationalist state, has proved again that this nation belongs to only Hindus.

Babri Masjid, 1992

Ram Temple, 2024

A bit of context for those who don’t know about the issue:

Babri Masjid, was a mosque in Ayodhya, India. It was built in the 16th century by the Mughal Empire. Babri Masjid was a holy place for the Muslims in the country. There’s a history of communalism (created by the British Empire) between Hindus (the majority religion) and Muslims (the minority) in the country.

In 1992, Babri Masjid was attacked and demolished by Hindu extremists who believed that the mosque was built on the site of birthplace of Ram (Hindu god). Thousands of people lost their lives. Thousands of Muslims were killed in cold blood by a hyper-nationalist state.

In 2010, after decades of Muslims fighting for justice, the Allahabad High Court upheld the claim that the mosque was built on Ram’s birth place. Muslims were also awarded one-third area of the site for the construction of a mosque. However, thr decision was subsequently appealed by all parties to the Indian Supreme Court, wherein a five judge bench heard a title suit from August to October 2019. On 9 November 2019, the Supreme Court quashed the lower court's judgement and ordered the entire site to be handed over to a trust to build the Hindu temple.

Today, 22nd January, 2024, marks the inaugural of the Ram Temple in Ayodhya. On a site that is so deeply entrenched within a community’s blood, pain and trauma. While these Hindu nationalists celebrate, every Muslim in the country feels more scared. Muslims in India have always been unlawfully detained, persecuted, punished and killed throughout the past seven decades but it has only worsened ever since BJP, the ruling party came in power. Celebrities, sportsperson, politicians and millions of people travelled to Ayodhya to celebrate this tremendous failure of the state.

Today, the Indian constitution lies under those thousands grave.

If any one of you celebrated, I hope you understand the gravity of your actions. I hope you understand what you all set in motion. I hope that one day, you understand and that there is no redemption for you after that.

I hope you all rot in hell.

Here’s a short poem by Rabindranath Tagore about an old god, a new temple, an arrogant king and many hungry and homeless ordinary people.

[silly-l1ttle-guy]

silly little fic of my oc

tw for mentions of suicide, death, abuse, neglect, r@pe, etc (there's a lot going on)

------

Ravioli sighed, rubbing her temples. Today was one of the days she hated most; a day where everyone was out except her. Sure, she could listen to music or a podcast or even an audiobook, but couldn’t be bothered to search around her room for them. 

Usually there would be at least one person other than her in the villa, usually Giorno, but he was out on a date with Fugo, his little boyfriend. Ravioli scoffed at the thought. Mista was home quite a lot too, but he had been sent out on a mission to go take care of a local drug dealer that had been found out by Giorno. Not even Bôa was home, having been sent out on a mission with Mista. 

Ravi swore under her breath, standing up and grabbing her white cane. She’d kill Bôa if he tried anything with Mista, damnit. She didn’t care how good of a friend he was; she’d still kill him for trying to get with her boyfriend. 

After a few minutes of walking and narrowly avoiding running into walls, Ravioli reached what was supposed to be Bruno’s room. She entered silently and closed the door behind her, sitting on what was supposed to be his bed. 

“Bruno?” A twelve year old Ravioli had asked, sitting in bed with a young boy, no less than a year older than her. “What do you look like?” 

Bruno smiled, despite knowing she couldn’t see it. “Well, my hair is a black bob, and I’m wearing a white suit with black dots on it. Also, I have blue eyes.” 

The girl rested her head on his shoulder. “Like sky blue?” 

Bruno chuckled, shaking his head. “I think my father told me they were a deep ocean blue, but my mother said they looked like sapphires.” 

Ravioli hummed in response, holding onto him tightly. “I wish I had blue eyes. They must be so pretty.” 

Snapping back out of her thoughts, Ravioli shook her head. She could hear the squeaks of her Stand and realised she musted summoned them when she had zoned out. No Surprises stood on the bed around her, making soft squeaking noises until she called them back. 

Lifting her hand up to rub her eyes, she felt a familiar wetness. Ah, she must’ve been crying again. Of course she was. 

If Bruno was here, he would’ve hugged her and wiped away her tears, but he had been dead for months. The first person that had ever really cared about her was gone, and she couldn’t do anything about it. 

Swallowing back a sob, Ravioli stood up and grit her teeth, grabbing her cane tightly and leaving the room. She hated being like this; forcing her sadness into anger and forcing it out on others, but she couldn’t help it. It was how she had always dealt with trauma, bottling it up and turning it into anger was just how she learnt to protect herself. 

“Papa?” The 4 year old girl’s voice called out, backing into a corner as her parents approached her with a knife and a large bottle of bleach. 

“Stay still, Rio, mama and papa need to do this so we can get money,” her mother spoke in a sickly-sweet voice, her ruby eyes set on the bright red eyes of her daughter. 

Rio backed away in fear, until she hit the wall. She whimpered as her father gripped her tightly, then held her against the floor so she’d stay still. 

Screams were heard as Rio’s mother stabbed at both her eyes, then poured bleach into them afterwards. They took shards of glass and embedded them in her skin, as well as her eyes, before beating her senseless. The took the girl to the hospital, claiming that she had been in the car with a bottle of bleach, when another car rammed into theirs. 

Rio stayed in the hospital for a few days, but had been permanently blinded from the cuts and the bleach. She was quieter since that day, and could hardly trust anyone, even those she wanted to trust. 

Ravioli snapped out of it as she heard the front door open, quickly heading to the front room to greet whoever came home. 

“Hey, Ravi!” She heard Mista’s voice call out, and she sighed. 

“Hi Mista. Hey Bôa,” She greeted, as Mista walked up to her and hugged her tightly. “Have fun?” 

“Mista got shot again!” Bôa yelled, presumably leaving to his room. Ravioli groaned, smelling the blood on her boyfriend. 

“God damnit… Again?” She sighed. 

“He had a gun! What was I supposed to do, dodge?” Mista asked, letting go of Ravi and crossing his arms dramatically. 

Ravioli just scoffed, before calling out her No Surprises. The puffball like Stands stood around Mista, bouncing and making squeaking sounds, as Mista’s wounds healed. Ravioli winced, feeling smaller versions of his wounds appear on her skin. 

“And you have a stand, and also a gun,” she counters, after healing him. “And stop touching my Stand! I can feel that too, you know!” 

Mista pouted, letting go of one of the No Surprises. “You’re no fun. Anyway, wanna go to my room and take a nap or something?” 

Sighing again, the blind girl nodded her head, letting Mista pick her up and carry her to his room. 

“Let go!” The girl screamed, trying to claw herself out of the grasp of the large man. 

“Calm down, kid. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, locking the door to his shitty, rundown apartment as they entered. The man set her down on his couch, before sitting next to her. “You’re Rio Romeo, yes?” 

Rio nodded her head, shaking. “What do you want?” 

“My name is Risotto Nero, you can trust me,” Risotto ignored her question. “How old are you, Rio?” 

Rio hesitated, before answering. “… 11. But I’m turning 12 next week, so it doesn’t count!” 

Risotto chuckled, moving his dark purple hair out of his face to look at the girl in front of him. “I don’t suppose you can tell, but air hair is similar. My hair is purple, like yours, just darker. In fact, people could mistake us for family. We both have the same dark skin, too.” 

Rio looked up in the direction of his voice, confused and scared. “W-what?” 

“Don’t worry about it. You’re on a run from the police, aren’t you?” Risotto asked her calmly. 

Rio just nodded her head, not wanting to speak. 

“I can get them off your trail.” 

“… Ravi?? Didja fall asleep with your eyes open or something?” Mista’s voice rang out, causing Ravioli to shake her head. 

“I’ve just been out of it today, fuck off,” She scowled, to which Mista playfully threw her on his bed. 

Ravioli grunted, rolling onto her side as Mista took his shoes off, then got on the bed beside her and wrapped his arms around his girlfriend tightly. Mista mumbled a few words, before immediately falling asleep. 

Ravioli sighed and closed her eyes, despite knowing that only nightmares would await her when she fell asleep. 

Rio yelped as another one of her cousins pushed her around, causing her to fall on the floor. “Wow, Rio! You’re just as weak as last year!” 

She remembered them laughing at her, while she couldn’t do anything but try to stand. Rio had been abused and neglected her whole life, she was incredibly malnourished by this point, and weaker and smaller than an 11 year old girl should be. 

Rio managed to get on her feet, sneaking away to the kitchen. She was planning on finding a snack, but her hand landed on a kitchen knife. Rio paused, holding the knife for a few moments, feeling an immense rage light in her. 

She was sick of this shit. 

“Oh Rio~! We weren’t done with you-“ The moment her cousin touched her shoulder, she turned and stabbed the knife through his chest, before slashing his neck. Screams rang out through the house, though they weren’t hers this time. 

“R-Rio?!” Rio heard her aunt’s voice call out, likely in shock at the 4 dead children laying in front of her. It didn’t take her long to realise that the small, weak, and blind Rio had killed her cousins. 

Rio lunged in the direction of her aunt’s voice, remembering the times her aunt had stripped Rio of her clothes, then touched her wherever she could reach. Rio never like or wanted that, and it happened anyway. She stabbed her aunt in the neck, listening to the loud thud as she fell to floor. 

Rio silently stalked to where she knew her parents were. She was dirty and covered in blood, though none of it was her own. 

They didn’t know what was coming until Rio heard a high-pitched scream as she stabbed someone in the neck. That was her mother’s scream, meaning she had just killed her father. Rio didn’t waste any time in killing her mother, too. 

And for the first time in years, the house was silent. Rio grabbed knife and cleaned herself off with water from the kitchen sink, then ran like her life depended on it. 

And it did. 

“What do mean you can help me?” Rio asked timidly, listening to Risotto speak. 

“You killed 7 people at a Christmas party, that’s impressive. You could be valuable,” Risotto continued, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I want you to join Passione, or otherwise known as simply ‘the mafia.’ You’d have to change your name first, of course. My name isn’t actually Risotto Nero, I had to change it to get the cops off my trail, too.” 

Rio blinked, frozen in her seat. “Huh?” 

“Do you want to join Passione?” Hesitantly, Rio nodded her head. “Good, now choose a new name. It can be anything you want.” 

Rio though for a moment, before speaking quietly. “… Ravioli Salsa. If you chose a food, I want to be named after a food, too.” 

Risotto chuckled, patting her head. “Alright then, Ravioli. I’ll take you to Polpo to start the test.” 

Ravioli’s eyes shot open, only be greeted with a dark blur. She didn't move. Ravi could feel Mista’s arms around her waist, and at some point, during their nap, he had tangled his legs with hers. She felt the vibrations of his snores on her back, which were already audible enough. 

Ravi sighed, pulling herself out of his grasp. She could hear talking from a few rooms across, which meant Giorno and Fugo must’ve come back from their date. 

Ravioli remembered the first time she met Fugo, back when she was 17. Bruno had brought him home, and at first, she despised him. He took Bruno’s attention away from her, which she hated.  

“… How old are you even?” She scoffed, sitting next to Fugo. 

“I’m 14,” He answered plainly, eying Ravioli curiously. 

She felt a bit of sympathy, considering that he was just a kid, but soon got up and left. 

Later that night, she awoke as she heard someone enter her room. 

“… Fugo?” She yawned, noting that the footsteps were too light to be Bruno’s. 

She could hear Fugo’s breath hitch in his throat, as if he wasn’t expecting her to wake up. Ravioli sat up, sighing. “What do you want? It’s late.” 

Fugo gulped, taking a few steps closer to her bed. “C- can I sleep in your bed..?” 

His voice was shaking, as if he was holding back tears. He sounded scared, meaning he probably had a nightmare of some sort. 

Ravioli, after a moment of silence, nodded her head and moved over to make room. “Did you have a nightmare?” 

Fugo stared in shock that she was actually letting him in her bed, and he quickly climbed in next to Ravioli, though he made sure to keep his distance. Fugo mumbled a weak “yeah” to Ravioli’s question, as he made himself comfortable. 

Ravioli laid back down, not knowing what to say. She had never had to comfort someone like this before, this was new. “… do you want to talk about it?” 

Fugo was silent for a moment, before he spoke. “It was more of a… of a memory than a dream.” 

Ravioli felt a pang of sympathy. She knew that feeling all too well. 

“When… when I was 13 my professor… he…” Fugo choked out, clearly trying not to cry. 

“Raped you?” Ravioli finished, feeling as though she knew where this was going. She heard the sound of Fugo nodding his head against the fabric of the pillow. 

“Yeah… that. The second time he tried to do it… I beat him to death with an encyclopaedia,” Fugo managed to say, his voice cracking as he let out a sob. 

Ravioli sighed, shifting slightly. “My aunt did the same thing to me.” 

She could hear the boy pause, croaking out a quiet “you too?” 

Ravi nodded, humming. “I was 10 the first time.” 

“… did you learn to overcome it?” Fugo asked, his voice slightly raspy. Ravioli hesitated. 

“No. I just try not to think about it,” she confessed to him. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.” 

“Will you ever find a way to forget it?” Fugo asked. Ravioli chuckled quietly. 

“No, that sort of thing is hard to forget. I doubt either of us will learn to forget something like that,” she shook her head. 

The room was silent for a moment, the only sound being the subtle snoring coming from Bruno’s room. Fugo rolled onto his side, and Ravioli felt him gently grab her arm. She remained silent, letting the kid hold on to her for comfort. She couldn’t judge him, not after all those nights she had spent clinging to Bruno for comfort. 

A knock on the bedroom door caused Ravioli to stand up, grabbing her cane. Judging by how the knock was gentle, she assumed it was Giorno. 

“Rav?” She was right, Giorno’s voice called out as she walked to the door and opened it. 

“I’m here, Giogio,” Ravioli yawned. She was close to Giorno, almost viewing him as a younger brother. “Did you have fun?” 

“I did, thank you,” Giorno confirmed. “How was your day?” 

Ravioli shrugged, putting her hand in her pocket. “It was fine. I just woke up.” 

She heard Giorno hum, then pushed past him to go back to her own room. As Ravioli walked, she fidgeted with what was apparently an iron replica of Risotto’s Stand, Metallica. She remembered when he gave it to her. 

“What’s your real name?” Ravioli asked, sitting next to Risotto on his couch. She and Bruno had gotten into an argument over something stupid, so she had headed to Risotto in an attempt to calm down. 

“I can’t tell you that,” Risotto replied, observing one of the Metallica beans on his finger. Ravioli groaned, flopping down on him. 

“Fine... What does your Stand look like?” She asked, as Risotto playfully ruffled her hair. 

Risotto hummed, before grabbing a small iron cube he had made. Using Metallica, he shaped it into a replica of his Stand, then handed it to Ravioli. “Like this.” 

The girl hummed, feeling it for a few moments. “Can I keep it?” 

He was dead now too. Of course the closest person she had to a father figure was dead, why wouldn’t he be? 

Ravioli walked past her room, head for one of the balconies. She didn’t know how high up she was, all she knew was that it was high enough to kill someone. 

Standing alone, Ravioli leaned against the railing, thinking to herself. It would be so easy to just jump off, to get it all over with. Usually whenever she attempted this sort of thing, Bruno was there to stop her. But Bruno wasn’t here anymore, was he? Would anyone try to stop her? 

Her thoughts were cut off by a voice coming from beside her. “You weren’t there when I woke up. What gives?” 

Mista. That was Mista’s voice. “How high up are we?” Ravioli asked aloud. Fuck, why did she ask that? 

Immediately, Ravioli felt Mista grab her by the arm and pull her towards him, away from the railing. “Do not.” 

His voice was serious and firm, not all relaxed and cheerful like how it is usually around Ravi. The girl scowled, but made no attempts to move away. “I wasn’t going to, asshole.” 

She could hear Mista sigh, then he wrapped his arms around her waist. “I just want to make sure you’re safe, Rav. I love you.” 

“... I love you too, Guido,” although Mista told Ravioli he loved her almost every day, it was rare for her to say it back. 

She could almost hear Mista grin as he guided her back inside, into her room. She wanted to tell him why she was like this, she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. 

Maybe one day she could tell him. Just not today. 

Breathing heavily, Ravioli scrambled away from the thing that had pierced her. She was certain it was an arrow of some kind.

"So you have accepted the arrow and become one of the chosen few?" A voice called out. She couldn't tell where it came from, all she knew is that she relit the lighter, and got stabbed by something. "Show me your stand."

Ravioli panicked, not knowing what to do. She heard squeaking sounds surrounding her, and felt an immense energy.

"I shall name them for you," the voice boomed once again. "No Surprises. That shall be the name of your stand."

She had passed the test.

------

[rise-of-the-ancients]

“The crystals lie within your care. They trust you. Put your faith in them as I do of you. You would be impressed with what one can do with guidance. Sayonara, Terios.”

Wanted…

Needed…

Help us…

Wrists twisted about to test the strength of the energetic beams that bounded his arms behind his back. To little avail, wringing the rope had done nothing. Even plucking a quill from his forearm in attempt to saw the beams off showed no improvement. The Titan growled under his breath as he continued to twists his bounded wrists over themselves. If there was one thing that Terios was known best for was his stubbornness. Even if all of his resources were exhausted, Terios had an annoying knack for persistence. 

The once noble echidna warriors had forced Terios to march through the East Forest all day and most of the night. He was tasked to navigate through the harsh overgrown vegetation—to which was the fault of the planet lacking harmonious balance—of the East forest and reside to the ruins of a once thriving hub that bordered the next frontier. At least… that’s what he last recalled. Exhaustion from the day and night’s travel prevented him from obtaining any recollection of time and mental state. How wonderful rest and serenity felt in his mind. And he would have had it if it weren’t for the slip-up at the East Forest’s temple.

Long ago, travelers from across the island could seek shelter at a small hub for refreshments and sleeping accommodations. Terios had used a couple himself when accompanying the Ancients during travels. This hub in particular was the last area of civilization that bordered both the West and East Forest. It was also the last hub that was within proximity of Sanctuary. A place that he once called home. Not much resided in the West Forest other than a few pillars and the excruciating journey to the Highland Canyons… that was where the next temple was located. However, fate had other plans. Instead of making his way to the Highland Canyons, he was temporarily confined to the hub ruins.

Wanted…

Needed…

Help us…

I hear you, he thought, I know.

Terios huffed in annoyance as he leaned back, but was met with a sharp kick to his spine and a spear uncomfortably close to his neck. So much for attempting to sheer the beams off with his back spines. The hedgehog shifted a cold glance upwards to the echidna that towered over his side.

“Don’t try anything,” the echidna barked.

“For now I won’t,” Terios replied with a cheeky smile, “but I can’t guarantee anything for the future.”

That earned another uncomfortable gesture close to Terios’ neck. Terios couldn’t believe that these were the same echidnas that he once sparred with years ago… echidnas that he had once formed a relationship with and fought in wars with when Lyric’s forces expanded across the islands. The Ancients would be so disappointed in their actions.

“I can’t believe that you were the Ancients’ preferred warrior,” the echidna muttered under his breath. He drew his spear back and grumbled his breath. “An utter disgrace I’d say. You’re not even sporting your armor anymore.”

Terios quickly whipped his head around his shoulder and flung himself to his feet. He was quick to react, no hesitation crossed his mind as he stood upright. The ebony hedgehog pounced and rammed his shoulder into the echidna’s chest to keep him pinned to the wall. The spear that the echidna had fancied to taunt the hedgehog with dropped to the ground. Hearing the soft clink of the flint hitting the stone flooring, Terios quickly kicked it a crossed the room to keep away from his opponent. It didn’t matter that some of his mobility was capped. The point was still addressed and made clear to the echidna. No one had the right to judge his sense of pride and where it came from.

Terios barred his fangs and snarled under his breath. “Don’t talks to me about disgrace. Not while you’re still breathing.”

Both Terios and the echidna paused as they heard clapping from a distance. The hedgehog whipped his head behind his back and snarled. At the entrance of the eerie room stood a maroon colored echidna with icy blue eyes and a hearty amount of golden jewelry branding his person. On each side of the echidna stood two cloaked warriors, each donning spears and shield to protect themselves.

Pachacamac. Of course it was him.

“I’m impressed. It’s sloppy, but I’m quite impressed. The Terios that I know would have killed himself before becoming a prisoner,” said the older echidna. Pachacamac shifted his glance to see an emotion stir in the hedgehog’s eyes; one that displayed silent rebuttal and anger a cold stare. “You can untie him now. The great Titan of the Ancients won’t try anything. Especially when we have the Chaos Crystals in our care.”

Terios inched his shoulder from the echidna’s diaphragm and slowly exposed his bounded wrist. As soon as the knot was undone, Terios massages his wrists and grumbled under his breath. The echidna slithered away as soon as he was freed and retreated from the scene. Of course, the warrior didn’t leave until picking up his spear and escaping through the opening. The hedgehog couldn’t help but smirk to himself in knowing that he was capable of striking fear into one’s mind. And he did so with minimal effort. It was always a pleasure to see his enemies cower and run away in fear.

“Took you long enough,” Terios growled. He walked over to the echidna and jabbed his finger into Pachacamac’s chest. “Now get out of my way. I’m finding OMEGA. I’m taking the crystals, Blue’s staff, and then I’m leaving.”

“Why leave? Don’t you want to know why I wanted you here? Come, share a fire with me. I’m sure that you’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

As the echidna gestured to the center of the dimly lit room, a communal fire pit roared to life. Finer details of the room that Terios was held in became clearer. The room didn’t have much to it other than violently slashed tapestries and holes in the wall. Not much traces of gold and precious jewels remained. All of the elegance that decorated the space had been looted or destroyed. Even the painted murals had been dishonored with graffiti staining the wall. Furnishings were smashed saved for the seats that surrounded the fire pit. Terios blinked a few times and shook his head. How could anyone be so bold and daring to deface a once peaceful ground? Temples he could understand, but a hub he lacked the answer for… unless it displayed too much evidence of the Ancients’ presence.

The anger was understandable. Removing them from history and their known existence entirely was just petty.

“You… did you do all this?” Terios questioned as he took his seat.

Pachacamac flashed the hedgehog a grin and threw some incense into the fire. The subtle crackles and pop of the fire pit were a bit relaxing to watch. As the fire cracked and popped from being fed the sage, a white spark from within the flames caught Terios’ attention. Terios made an attempt to lean forward, but was quickly forced back into his seat by the two echidnas from behind. With each flicker of light that the fire produced, the white spark from within grew as it ate at the sage. Terios squinted his eyes to study the pulsating spark from the fire. His attention occupied the open flame as Pachacamac chuckled.

“You must see something in the flames,” he said. “Good. Let the flames be a visual guide as I tell you my story of the Ancients.”

Terios scoffed as he crossed his arms to his chest.

“The Ancients were known for their mystical work. Not only were they knowledgeable in the supernatural, they all had an immense appreciation for technology and lived harmoniously with nature. Some did anyways. You should know all about that.”

Terios kept his eyes fixated on the growing spark in the flames. He knew the story all too well. He didn’t care to suffer through a warped perspective of storytelling. His mind occupied a different matter. Such as the debate of whether or not he was hallucinating from exhaustion, or if spark from within the flames was beginning to take a form.

“I’m sure that you’re familiar with the Ancients’ story,” Pachacamac stated, “two powerful deities created the universe. One created the world and everything around it, the other created emotion and destruction. One wanted authority and control, the other wanted freedom and justice. Jealousy over powers formed, but resulted in an Ancient being banished from home. Sickness and revenge stirred. We were created, then you were forced into existence. Wars came and we fought them all. Then came the Great Sacrifice, you disappearing for a month, and now here we are. Honestly, I haven’t seen this much drama since the humans were created… and you know how much of a problem that was.”

Pachacamac’s sour words entered through one ear and exited the other. A bit of it was exaggerated, but Pachacamac always seemed to had a taste for flare and drama. If there was one thing that Terios remembered of the echidna was his need to complain and seek power. Terios didn’t care much about what the echidna had to say. His attention was focused on the flames dancing in the pit and the spark that pulsated slowly.

“Your fault.” Gurgled words murmured.

Terios twitched his ears to the sound of the lowered voice. His eyes shifted upwards to observe his surroundings as a precaution. Where had that voice come from? Surely the other bodies in the room heard it as well. Maybe he was hallucinating?

“Your fault...”

Terios whipped his head back to the direction of the voice and flinched when saw he saw the fire. No longer did the flames have a pulsating white spark within them. Instead, the hue of the flames changed from a golden amber to silvery white and cyan. He couldn’t believe his eyes! How could fire hold such capability? Terios leaned back in his seat as he watched a set of glowing red eyes open from the hearth. The hedgehog held his breath. The eyes blinked and furrowed its eyebrows as they registered Terios’ face. The eyes blinked once more as a faint silhouette began to take shape. The outline of a single figure grew twice the flame’s size and sculpted a set of elongated ears and five tails set ablaze. The eyes opened once more and peered down to a startled Terios near the ground. A kitsune stood in place with its tails flickering angrily from side to side.

He knew that stare. He was all to familiar with those eyes and who they belonged to. “Aero?” He whispered to himself.

“Your fault,” The words swarmed around his head and bellowed in his ears Terios shut his eyes and cupped his hands over ears as the figure continued to scream, “your fault! YOUR FAULT! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!”

Eyes snapped open as the ebony hedgehog gasped from his deep trance. Terios’ fingers twitched ever so slightly as his claws dug into the plush seating of the throw pillows. The hedgehog quickly shifted his head to Pachacamac, then back at the fire. And to Terios’ unfortunate surprise, the echidnas were not affected at all. From what he observed, it was only him that witnessed the horrors of the flames. Perhaps he did fabricate the whole scenario? No. Absolutely not. That didn’t sound or feel like a hallucination. it was too real to not be a hallucination.

Terios growled as he shook his head. Now was not the time, other matters were important. “Rrgh! What does this have to do with the crystals?”

“The Terios that I knew was a great warrior. We were both in the same class and trained by the same Ancient. You were feared, but respected. From what I saw during the war, I would have never believed who you were.” This time, Pachacamac earned a growl. “The actions that I have seen you display so far has led me to come to this conclusion: you’re in mourning. You’ve been mourning for a while.”

All Terios could do was blink. His true anger was not to be expressed upon his mantle. It didn’t matter how white his knuckles were from clenching them into fists, nor was it wise to judge his character in ear flicks. If one knew him well enough, they’d know that Terios was expressive through his eyes. No amount of study in body language was needed to understand how the hedgehog felt. As soon as Pachacamac saw the quick flicker in Terios’ eyes he knew that he succeeded in striking a nerve.

"We, the echidna and myself, are direct descendants. We are as strong and as connected to the Ancients’ relics as if they were still living. We’ve kept ourselves busy for a month, as you can see. We’ve done some… rebranding.” With a flick of his wrist, Pachacamac graciously snatched the deerskin bag that an armed echidna extended outward. The crystals. “It’s very clear that you’re not one of us. And you’re not fit to guard the crystals.“

Terios whipped his head to the direction of lighting ringing. Faint whispers in the background as they pleaded for his attention.

Wanted.

Needed.

Help.

The crystals were calling him.

“I know that you can hear them.” Pachacamac said, “I know of your bond. I can’t form a connection with them unless you relinquish your bond with them.  Give them to me. With the crystals in my care, I will take the role as an Ancient. Let the true bloodline of the fallen Ancients guard the Chaos Crystals. This is what they would have wanted.”

Terios flung himself from his seat and readied himself in a stance. With balled fists a faint green light emitted between his fingers and began to stretch. Each of his hands sported a long spear made of pure chaos energy. Energy that flowed within each fiber of his body and grew stronger when channeled with emotion. It was crucial that he only called upon the power and connection to the energy that he needed, not what he wanted. An exorbitant amount of chaos energy would have been too much to tame while keeping his emotions in check.

In a blink of an eye, Terios flung the spear into the direction of the cloaked echidna holding the bag. The point of the chaos spear wove itself in between the strap of the bag and pierced the wall before anyone could grab it. Terios gave a quick nod of his head closed his eyes as he was surrounded by a radiant green light. A warm light that felt more comfortable to him the more he channeled the chaos energy. In a flash, Terios appeared from one side of the room to the other and loosened the spear from the wall. Terios flung the bag over his shoulder and directed the spear to the echidnas that halted in their path. Each of the cloaked echidnas exchanged a quick glance to one another as they parted to the side. The hedgehog flashed them a quick grin and sauntered over to the elder echidna still sitting by the fire pit.

“Your backassward beliefs of becoming an Ancient only go so far.” Terios growled to Pachacamac, spear drawn outwards to his face. “You do not know them as well as I do, specifically Blue. This is not what they would have wanted. This why I was the superior decision. I’m taking the crystals to return to the temples. I’m retrieving Blue’s staff and taking my leave. Try me and you’ll regret it.”

And with that, Terios took his leave. The entrance that had once been guarded by the valiant warriors had subsided to walls and sought safety of blending in with the shadows. 

“Then you leave me no choice,” Pachacamac muttered. The elder echidna turned his head to the cloaked individual by his side and curled his lip. “Get the mech suit.”

——

No matter how many twists and turns Terios took, the hedgehog had found that he could not escape the maze of makeshift camp sites and crumbling ruins of the hub. Each direction that the hedgehog took led him to swarms of echidnas sporting their own choice in weapon to defend themselves. Word had spread that Terios had escaped. He had anticipated that word of his escape would surface, but he didn’t expect to be hunted so quickly. It didn’t help that he was out in the open either, it was easy to spot his signature red stripes in the wild. His saving grace of the matter was that he was quick. He was very quick. Quick on his feet and sharp with thought. Though it felt a bit wrong to boast about such skills, not with him struggling to find Blue’s staff and an exit. Damn it, he growled to himself. Damn it, damn it, damn it! At least he could say that he apprehended the crystals from the echidnas with ease.

Terios took a sharp turn and evaded the blade of his enemy’s spear that was inches away from his nose. The hedgehog’s footing gave out from beneath him. as he slowed his run to make the turn. He skidded across the soft ground and grass before his back slammed into the crumbling structure of a fallen statue. Grumbling, the Titan rolled onto his knees and patted his chest with care. The medallion that had been fastened to his person for years remained in tact, same for strap of his the tote bag. Terios stood up slowly and massaged his shoulders with care before taking a proper look and the debris on the ground. His eyes shifted back and forth as it followed the trail of debris on the ground. His heart pounded in his throat as he walked besides the trail. His pace quickened as curiosity grew. Chunks of wall with colored ochre paint were puzzle pieces of once beautiful murals. Statues that once stood tall and proud were nothing more than heaps of marble piled together by its petioles. His walk turned into a jog. He wove in and out of the littered remains of art before he halted around another corner. To what his wondering eyes found stopped him in his tracks and left a sour taste in his mouth.

Much like he seen in his temporary prison, the hub’s market and inns where vandalized and dismantled beyond repair. Any traces of the Ancients and their pride was defaced. The eyes and mouths of the Ancients were ripped from their statues, murals were smashed, tapestries and flags were ripped from their post. Any traces of the Ancients’ names were erased from the hub’s central courtyard. In its place were markers of the remaining echidna warriors to signify their order. Poorly etched drawings of echidna warriors had covered up the Ancients’ name. His heart sank into his chest and he soaked in the scene before him. Everything that Terios had grown accustomed to for years had been taken down and demolished within days. Countless hours of details that shared the story of the Ancients and their lives were disappearing before his eyes. If this was what they could accomplish within a month’s time to one area, he couldn’t begin to imagine what horrors that they’ve accomplished elsewhere. And if they had begun to make their presence known elsewhere, what else were they willing to destroy in order to have their names remembered?

The hedgehog’s hands trembled as he balled them into fists. “They’re… defacing history.”

“Correction,” Terios’ fur stood on end as he inched his head behind him. “We’re improving.”

Terios barely had time to react before he was flung across the ground. He could barely process the act of being flung across the yard as he felt his body collided with the crumbled wall. His head spun and his body ached as he inched himself off of the floor. Terios rubbed his head and groaned as he sat on his knees. He blinked a few times in attempt to correct his vision. The world around him spiraled and jumped. Terios couldn’t exactly fight whatever threw him if he couldn’t see correctly. Nausea from the blow of his body smacking the wall and the world spinning was too much for him. But he had to keep going. He had to push forward.

Terios staggered to his feet and shifted his eyes above to locate the sound of metal scraping the floor and cackling from the distance. And to what the Titan found shook him to his very core. The Titan gripped hold of the satchel’s strap tightly as he felt the warmth of a chaos spear form in his clenched fist. A suit of obsidian armor towered over Terios’ small frame as he struggled to his feet. Terios whipped his head around to the sounds of maniacal laughter to meet the horrendous stare of an angry echidna as the armored suit inched its was forward to the Titan. The hedgehog had seen a few mech suits like this in his lifetime. He could count how many he’d encountered the unfortunate company of mech suits such as the one one before him.

“Do you like it,” Pachacamac asked with his devilish smile curling, “I hoped that you would. I found many functional mech suits like this at Lyric’s Facility.”

Mech suits were mechanical pieces of armor that the Ancients had invented, but they were only meant to be used as a last resort. It was a suit that featured arms and legs with a chair for a pilot. Each suit stood tall as mountains and could withstand any force thrown at them. And each suit was carefully crafted to cater to the fighting style as its pilot thanks to a symbiotic chip installed. Terios recalled the first suit that was created… and the fight that nearly killed him. Fortunately for him, only five were only created before the Ancients deemed them as too dangerous to use. He had wished that the echidna warriors hadn’t touched them.

“Don’t worry, the symbiotic chip inside it won’t override like it did to the Ancients.” Pachacamac stated. “This is completely manual.”

Terios gripped the spear in hand and gestured it forward. “Get out of that suit if you know what’s good for you. Your hunger to erase the Ancients’ history from total existence is disgraceful.“

The echidna growled as he piloted the armor. Mechanical arms swung left and right in hopes of hitting its target. With each swing of the arms, Terios dodged the fists with ease. No matter how many times Pachacamac attempted to strike him, no matter how much destruction and mayhem he was willing to cause, Terios only proved that he was hard to hit. Terios threw a spear at the mech suit as he jumped in the air. He was quick to dodge a punch, but growled as the suit smashed into the wall of a structure came tumbling down. There was no point in trying to reason with him now.

“Stop talking about them as if they’re still alive!” Pachacamac screamed. His face became purple and his eyes burned from the tears that streamed down his face. “The Ancients died because of you.“

The metal claws of the mech suit lunged forward and grasped Terios’ quills. The Titan screamed as he was yanked from the air and slammed to the ground, trembling the earth. Terios chug his fingers into the dirt and growled as he felt the pressure of the mechanical hand press him further into the ground. The hedgehog glared at the echidna in the mech suit and growled under his breath. Anger clouded his mind and took over Pachacamac’s heart. The once noble warrior that Terios had known for years was no longer alive. What remained of the warrior was a memory and an empty shell of the echidna.

“Give. Me. The. Crystals.” Pachacamac hissed between clenched teeth.

Before Terios could rebuttal, the two opponents turned their direction to the howls of laughter in the distance. Footsteps of a large figure thundered through the dark forest. Metal scraped against metal as footsteps boomed. With each thump that Terios felt from the shaken ground, he could feel the power of each step course though his chest. Pachacamac released the grip that he had on Terios and stood upright in a defensive stance to fight. Whatever force was making it’s way to them was enough to make the echidna worried. Terios flung himself to his feet once more and crafted a spear once more. No matter the exhaustion that his body and mind felt, Terios had to be ready no matter the circumstances.

Trees of the forest parted to the side and the rumble of footsteps stopped. Terios could only stare with widen eyes as his jaw dropped in awe. He inched his head up as far as he could to see a mechanical arm frantically waive in his direction. “TERIOS!” He hearted the familiar squeal his name, “I-HAVE-ACQUIRED-LEGS!”

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters (Round 1): General Bracket Match 52

Alak | Identity: mlm | Media: The High Republic Adventures 2022

Alak was a member of Maz Kanata’s pirate crew. He was born to one of the ruling families of the Scarlet Skulls, a brutal group of mute assassins. However, the night before the initiation a baby was born, and seeing her innocence and the brutal life she’d be forced into, made him realize he couldn’t become a full Scarlet Skull, or let the same thing happen to her. He left, and eight years later he returned to destroy the cult and rescue her. She became his adoptive daughter and pirate prodigy Quiet Shan. He was part of Maz’s crew when she opposed the Dank Graks, a motley gang of Dark-siders attempting to take over Takodana. He was in love with the famous pirate hunter Raf Thatchburn. Their opposed occupations made things very difficult. When they talked over holo, the rest of the crew observed to make sure he didn’t give any information away. Chasing after the Graks when the kidnapped Maz led him and the crew to the Battle of Jedha, where he had a conversation about love with Dexter Jettster (who talked about his QPR with Maz). Shan overheard this conversation, and when Raf was also drawn into the chaos of the battle of Jedha, she saved his life. This made Raf realize he needed to be someone who deserved Alak and Shan’s trust, and he helped save Maz and Takodana from the Graks. He quit his job as a pirate hunter, becoming a pirate to properly get with Alak.

Vernestra Rwoh | Identity: aroace | Media: the High Republic Phase I

Gifted Kid SyndromeTM. Vernestra Rwoh is primarily a character in the middle grade High Republic novels (as appearing in the YA Out of the Shadows). A prodigy, she solves the problem with adults having to be out of the picture in middle grade novels by being one of the youngest Jedi Knights ever- being knighted at 15 after an unusually short term as Stellan Gios’ padawan also from an abnormally young age. As a padawan, she would fall unconscious when traveling through hyperspace and have visions, something that resolved itself on its own (unknown to any of the characters, this was an unrealized ability to navigate hyperspace). Following a vision from the Force, she secretly modified her lightsaber to become a light-whip. 

She was on the Steady Wing, a diplomatic ship, that blew up and killed all of the adults. Working with the prodigious inventor Avon Starros, Honesty Weft, and the padawan Imri Canatros, they survived and captured the Nihil who sabotaged the ship. She also talked Imri down from the Dark Side and became his new master, despite their similar ages. During the Attack on the Republic Fair, she joined Ram Jamoram and Lula Talisola, who both looked up to her, in restoring communications on the planet. Later, she and her Padawan investigated a gravity well generator the Nihil were working on. During that time, her hyperspace visions were reactivated by Mari San Tekka. She was with the old woman when she finally managed to die, denying the Nihil any new Paths. She gave Venrestra one final path.

Later, following visions of Avon being in danger, she and Imri found that the Nihil were kidnapping children to be made into recruits on the planet Dalna. By leading the Jedi of the Dalna temple to the camp, they were able to alert Starlight Beacon and evacuate the planet before it was geologically destabilized by the Nihil’s kyber crystal experiments. She was in the top part of Starlight Beacon when it was destroyed and participated in the group effort to hold it together. She presumably escaped. As a prodigy, she had the maturity and serenity expected of a Jedi. Fear didn’t trouble her, but she struggled with self-doubt, wondering if she could really be a Jedi Knight and Master to someone the same age as her. She also understood not to let her friendship with Avon cause her to be more worried about her than the missing children on Dalna (commentary with how her being aroace doesn’t make her immune to attachment). She was also a terrible pilot. She has been confirmed to appear in Acolyte.

[mariacallous]

Much of India came to a standstill on Jan. 22, when Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi consecrated a temple in the northern city of Ayodhya commemorating Rama, a warrior-king worshipped by Hindus as a god. Schools, colleges, and offices closed and central government offices gave a half-day off to all employees. Some expectant parents even cajoled obstetricians to schedule cesarean sections on the day so that their children are born at the auspicious moment coinciding with the temple’s opening.

Such a public display of religiosity by the Indian government and its leadership may seem peculiar, particularly to those who cherish secularism. But India moved away from the state’s traditional interpretation of secularism a decade ago, when Modi led the Hindu nationalist Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) to power. With the next national elections only a few months away, Modi has choreographed the Ram temple consecration to consolidate his Hindu vote (about 80 percent of the country’s population is Hindu). The political intent is clear: Cutouts of Modi grace lampposts on the airport road in Ayodhya, with similar images of Rama added almost as an afterthought. In an audio message on social media this month, Modi said, “God has made me an instrument to represent all the people of India.”

The ongoing construction of Ram Mandir is very controversial in India. From the early 16th century until 1992, a mosque known as Babri Masjid stood on the site—built during the time of the emperor Babur, the first Mughal to rule India. Many Hindus say that Babur destroyed a temple honoring Rama that previously stood on the land, which they believe is Rama’s birthplace. In the 1980s, Hindu activists began a movement to reclaim the site and build a temple there. In December 1992, they razed the mosque, an act that shocked the nation.

But in the past two decades, India has changed, and Hindus clamored for the land to be restored to them. In 2019, the Indian Supreme Court ruled that although the initial act of demolition was illegal, it would offer the site to a Hindu trust to build a temple and grant land elsewhere to a Muslim trust to rebuild a mosque. Although the construction of the Ram Mandir is not yet complete, Modi needs the imagery for his election campaign, and so the consecration will go ahead. Some opposition parties, including the Indian National Congress and the Communist Party of India, did not send their top leadership to the ceremony; however, some Congress leaders were divided over the boycott and at least two attended.

Rama, for many Hindus, is maryada purushottam—the ideal human being who sacrifices himself for others. His is the kind of life to which lesser mortals should aspire; his heroism is based not simply on battlecraft, but upon his ability to put others’ interests before his own. In the Sanskrit epic Ramayana, Rama is the prince of Ayodhya who is about to become king when one of his father’s wives demands that Rama go into exile, and the succession passes to her son instead. Rama leaves with his wife, Sita, and brother Lakshmana. The king of Lanka, Ravana, abducts Sita, and Rama mobilizes an army of monkeys to invade the island fortress, defeating Ravana and rescuing Sita. After 14 years, Rama finally rules Ayodhya, leading to a golden age.

The BJP sees the construction of the Ram Mandir temple as evidence of its single-minded determination, no matter how long it takes. Formed in 1980 by some members of the former Janata Party, the BJP initially struggled electorally. It briefly held power in the 1990s and led a coalition government between 1999 and 2004. In 2014, Modi projected himself as committed to development and boosted the BJP’s vote share to win a majority of seats in parliament with 31 percent of the national vote; five years later, the party increased its tally to 303 seats out of 542, winning 37 percent of the vote. The temple project follows other promises kept by Modi’s government: revoking the special autonomous status of Indian-administered Kashmir and introducing a citizenship act that created a pathway to Indian citizenship for asylum-seekers from neighboring countries but excluded Muslims. Modi has shown that he is the man who gets things done.

The BJP capitalized on three major changes that occurred in India in the 1980s to build its identity and increase its vote share. First, many Indians bristled at how India practiced secularism, perceiving the government as granting special favors to religious communities, such as subsidies for Muslims to perform the Hajj and curriculum exemptions for faith-based schools. Second, Indians were tired of living in an economy beset by sluggish growth and shoddy products due to socialist policies that restricted foreign investment and trade. (That changed in 1991, when the Congress government deregulated the economy.)

Finally, India was a leader in the Non-Aligned Movement, but the appeal of nonalignment was fading with the decline of Soviet influence and the eventual disintegration of the Soviet Union. The Congress party ruled India for most of its first 49 years post-independence, and it was instrumental in developing India’s secularism, socialism, and nonalignment. The BJP took advantage of public disenchantment and stepped into the void, promising “equality for all, appeasement to none,” to promote a market-based economy, and to reset its foreign policy, often aligning with Western interests. (Still, the BJP pursues strategic autonomy in many respects, such as its continuing trade ties with Russia despite Western sanctions.)

Most politicians have the next election on their mind; Modi and the BJP leadership have the next generation in mind. After all, more than 40 percent of Indians have no living memory of the Babri Masjid mosque. Even in the early years, the party began influencing India’s younger generations in the states where it came to power first, changing textbooks and rewriting history to downplay the roles of Mahatma Gandhi and Prime Minister Jawaharlal Nehru (and his family members who later came to power) and project alternative heroes who were more militant and outwardly Hindu. By promoting Rama as the warrior-king who ruled over an ideal state, the BJP aims to create a constituency of voters who see their identity primarily in religious terms and equate the Hindu faith with the nation of India.

To the BJP’s core voters—the hardwired Hindu nationalists—the party has promised to restore Hindu glories, embodied by the Ram Mandir temple. The events in Ayodhya have set a precedent: Some party activists want to transform more mosques (and, in some instances, churches), claiming they were also built where Hindu temples once stood. The triumphalism around the temple construction is so vicious that not only is it the opposition leaders boycotting the event who are facing criticism, but also four seers of the Hindu faith who have raised a range of objections—including the choice of Modi to perform the ceremony, which they say should be presided over by a priest.

The Hindu nationalist movement’s elevation of Rama over other Hindu deities is also strange. Hinduism is polytheistic, and its literature does not rest on one book. Many interpretations are liberal, and some contradict each other: Skepticism and atheism are also part of certain strands of Hinduism. In the late 1980s, I interviewed Morarji Desai, who had served as India’s prime minister representing the Janata Party. I asked him what he thought of the movement to build the Ram temple on the site of Babri Masjid, and he suggested that the BJP’s ultimate goal was to undermine Hinduism’s pluralism and turn it into a faith with one book (the Ramayana), one place of worship (Ayodhya), and one god (Rama). The slogan now reverberating through Ayodhya and much of India is Jai Shri Ram, or “Victory to Lord Rama.”

Rama is an exceptionally interesting and nuanced literary figure and well-loved outside of India, especially in Southeast Asia. But many Indians do not take kindly to works that present Rama in a different light, such as the late poet A.K. Ramanujan’s celebrated essay, “Three Hundred Ramayanas,” which shows how the epic’s characters appear in different forms and offer different interpretations in India and beyond. Nina Paley’s charming 2008 animated film that draws on the Ramayana, Sita Sings the Blues, was also controversial. The latest victim of this outrage is a Tamil film released on Netflix last month, Annapoorani, about the daughter of a Hindu priest who wants to be a chef; her Muslim friend encourages her to pursue her dream, correctly citing a verse from the Ramayana that shows that Rama ate meat. Some Hindus who practice vegetarianism for religious reasons were offended; Netflix withdrew the film, and the actor who played the protagonist issued a public apology on a “Jai Shri Ram” letterhead.

India is no longer a land of nuances. A significant part of its population wants an assertive government and a black-and-white narrative where subjugated Hindus are reclaiming their identity, and the foreigners who colonized the country in the past—the British and, before them, Muslims—are cast as villains. Such an approach risks turning a multidimensional country into a cardboard caricature of itself. The Ram temple consecration marked another milestone on that path—which Modi walks in the hope of getting elected once again.