#another doozy

[sevensoulmates]

30 and 31!!

Hello! Thanks for asking!

30.) ooohhh. nowadays I wish I saw more fics of Eddie, his childhood, and having to deal with Helena growing up. Or current timeline fics that have more breaking down of Eddie's relationship with his mom in particular. (this is also something I want to happen in the show as well).

31.) I mentioned a bunch of other discourse in the last ask, but this one I'll do a different one. And that is regarding Shannon. This is another one that I feel like general fandom consensus has filp-flopped from earlier seasons. You could not ESCAPE Shannon hate during s2-s3 peak. Now, people seem to kinda lowkey put her on a pedestal? Or at least they put Eddie's relationship with her on a pedestal. This might be a hot take but I do not believe that Shannon was Eddie's great love, or the love of his life, or even that Eddie was really deeply in GENUINE romantic love with her. I don't think Eddie's actually ever been in love with a single female character in this show, nor do I think he will ever be. And I need people to stop taking what he said about Shannon at the end of s6 as "proof" that she was his "one". It's so clear to me that the show is trying to tell us that Eddie looks back on his relationship with Shannon through rose-colored glasses. Even before she died, he was trying to convince himself that getting back with her was what he wanted. Shannon was the only one with some sense that they were NOT, should NOT, and will NEVER BE right for each other. Christopher is a blessing, and I do believe Eddie loved her as the mother of his child, and probably as someone whom he was deeply attached to from his youth, but NOPE. You will never EVER convince me that Eddie was in love with her. One day the show will hammer home that point, I'm sure of it.

[jonsaslove]

Kinda sorta dropped a 16k word update for you all, I hope you enjoy…🫣

[ssomepersonn]

campfire night

(unshaded vers under the cut :] )

[get-back-homeward]

Emotional moments, you left in a rage But if you could love me now, I wouldn't be in a cage Provisional license, I'm under arrest But if you could get me out, I'd like to take another test

Cage (aka Emotional Moments) [x] An unreleased song by Paul McCartney, 1978 [x]

[rainbow-wolf120]

The RayClone Theory: Why It Could Be Possible

(Massive Spoilers for CLH below) Tw: Ab//se, Imprisonment, D3ath, Really Bad Pacing on My Part <3

With me thinking about this way too much, I’ve come up with a thought. Have you ever wondered why the CLH Rayman is so… different from his in-game persona?

No, it’s not because it's a remix. Think deeper. Examine them under a microscope.

It could be because… they’re not the same person.

Now, this may sound like another silly cartoon theory, but hear me out. I have… proof. Aka overanalyzing, but school taught me to do that.

So, what is the RayClone Theory? Well, to put it simple, the Rayman we see in the show isn't the ‘first’ Rayman. There’s been many in the past. Many, as in 5 or so. How? That’s what this post is for. So, let's go back to the beginning. Mushing both Rayman and CLH lore alike.

To make this simpler, we’re gonna establish a rule. Referring to all the Raymen in the show as ‘Rayman’ is very, very confusing. So I will make a list:

OG Rayman - Rayman CLH Rayman - Ramon Rayplacement - Fakeman

Get it? Got it? Good. Let’s start.

According to the Rayman lore, Rayman was created with one purpose in mind: To protect the Glade (or, in this case, Dimension X). He was created for one thing only. To protect. To be the ‘hero’.

In the games, he’s never failed before. He thrives and beats the bad guy. But remember, this isn’t the games. It’s a remix. A what-if. This leads into:

What if Rayman failed? What does he do then?

And not like, fails as in Rayman 2, fail as in royally fucked up. Fail as in, the closest one to him dies by ‘his hand’. No, not Globox, he was considered alive by Adi. But you know who he didn’t confirm?

Betilla the Fairy.

You could be thinking: “Duh, of course she wasn’t mentioned. He was being broad.”, but he mentioned Razorbeard. His ass wasn’t relevant since Rayman M. So why mention him, but not Rayman’s literal mom??

Because she's not alive. 

Eden (and America) has always been a resource hungry society. It’s human nature. In this timeline, society progresses much quicker than in the real world (flying cars in 1992). Progress needs resources. Have you ever noticed that Eden is barren of all plant life? It’s because Eden (or America) used it all for industrialization.

How does this relate to Rayman? You know how the Glade of Dreams is a lush forest? Resources from massive jungles to deep oceans to towering mountains? Imagine what a power-hungry company (or companies) would do if they discovered this.

*Insert How Bad Can I Be Here*

The creation of the Super-Scope must’ve been revolutionary. The ability to travel to other dimensions with one click of a trigger. Resources galore.

Sarah Fisher mentions in ep2 that the Golder Super-Scope was stolen from Eden’s labs. So, what’s stopping Eden from creating this material? Nothing. That’s what.

Eden, still a sorta underground company, creates this gun and finds Dimension X. Filled with lush resources ripe for the picking. The critters of the Glade don’t know their ‘bad guys’. They don’t look inherently bad. So they leave them be.

Rabbids. The little bunny fellas.

The Kaiju monsters in the show. How does that become a monster? It’s easy. Toxic chemicals. Not just any toxic chemicals, but Eden’s toxic chemicals from polluting the Glade.

I’m getting distracted, back to Rayman.

Kaiju Rabbids started popping around Dimension X. They started small and inefficient until they got bigger and bigger. Rayman took care of them, yes, but one day, he got absolutely bombarded by a hoard of Rabbids.

A massive war broke out between the citizens of the Dimension and the Rabbids. No one knows how it started because Eden left after it got all it needed.

Rayman, having ‘hero-ing’ literally coded into him, fights back. Others help, yes, but it’s mostly Rayman doing the fighting. 

This leads into Betilla, and how she died.

Rayman was getting jumped by Rabbids, so she came in to save him, risking her life as a result. Yes, her sacrifice did stun the Rabbids and cause them to flee into the depths of Dimension X, but Rayman feels like he’s one to blame.

No one really fully ‘died’ in the games. Sure, they got kidnapped, possessed, you name it. But no explicit deaths besides villains.

So, imagine what that does to a guy when his first, full on death witness was with his creator, his mother.

He doesn’t take it too well.

Yes. Rayman was a hero and drove out the Rabbids, but he didn’t save everybody. He couldn’t save his mom.

He failed.

Lost and confused, Rayman runs to find… something. He runs away, something he’s never done before. He never backed down from a fight. So why is he now?

Well, because he’s scared. Scared for his life and others.

Betilla saved him with her own life. She died because of him. Heroes are supposed to be giving the sacrifice. Not receiving it.

Rayman blames himself. If he’s out of the picture, then no one else would risk their life for his.

The art book says that they destroyed the dimension, but Globox, the Teensies, and even Razorbeard are alive, so the dimension can’t be unlivable. So what if this use of ‘dimension’ was less literal?

This may sound far-off, but Rayman’s “dimension” could be talking about Betilla. She created him, so she is his ‘dimension’.

This transition into Eden! Or, America currently.

Rayman goes into America looking for a fresh start. To find his purpose. He failed his original purpose (which was to be a hero and save everybody), so he blocked out everything that happened originally to start a fresh start.

Or, every immigration story ever. Leaving behind what you loved for a better start.

He needed a new purpose. And that purpose is to be an entertainer!

His origin in America is the same as the show. He goes to college, gets outcasted, and rises with Eden.

Things are different here than with Ramon. Rayman is… less constricted here.

Back when Eden was new (most likely had good intentions), they weren’t worried about Rayman finding the truth. There was no truth to find. So Rayman was allowed to explore, make friends, talk to people and hybrids below his social class.

One day, he met a hybrid journalist. One of the lower-income hybrids, but a very strong writer. Rayman admired their work, being a news reporter and all, and the two became really good friends, even with him getting them a job at Eden.

Then, the journalist goes snooping. Eden wasn’t as terrible as it is in the present day, but it still did bad things. The hybrid craves justice (like any other journalist) and stations a revolt. It affects Eden, but nothing major except getting the journalist put in jail.

Rayman finds out and goes to give his buddy a visit and to ask what happened. Rayman (still under the influence of Eden) explains that they shouldn’t have revolted and that Eden is great. The hybrid shows him the articles and photos (which were disapproved by Eden so they weren’t published) and explains their side of the story. Since the journalist was low-income, they experienced the biases and issues of Eden first hand.

Rayman obviously seeks the truth as well, promising that he could save the journalist. He goes to the Board of the Directors with the proof and articles, demanding an explanation. Not in a violent way like Ramon, but in a diplomatic manner.

(Keep in mind, Rayman has been questioning Eden in recent weeks from folks he’s talked with in his downtime)

Sound familiar? Of course it does. It happens in the show. Clones are still clones, y’know?

The Board, unsure on how to react with their poster boy finding their fucked up ways, tells Rayman that they’ll explain tomorrow.

Rayman, still trusting of the Board, agrees and waits it out. The next day, he awakens, chained in a dingy room.

Why? Well, the Board knew that Rayman’s act wouldn’t be as efficient if he knew what he was saying was bullshit. Think Disney’s Bolt. So what do they do?

Try out their latest technology, of course. And that was a cloning device.

Now, you can’t just clone Rayman. He’s an alien. Not an organic lifeform. So, how did Eden approach it?

Lums. Take bits of Rayman, combine it with various animals, and boom. Almost perfect Rayman clone.

Clones are never perfect. Each one has an imperfection, little or big. And the Lums is what gives Rayman his main form.

So, chain him to the basement so he’s always on hand. Duh.

Rayman stays in that basement for at least 10 years. Sad, alone, and going insane. He can’t die; he’s immortal. Eden goes through at least 4 or 5 different RayClones before landing on Ramon. I’ll go into Ramon in a bit.

When a RayClone is too imperfect or steps out of line, the Board sends one of the Niji 6 to eliminate them. This is shown by this line of dialogue:

“Taking care of”? What do they imply by that? Maybe it implies that they were sent to assassinate Rayman, or in this case, Ramon. 

So, RayClone bodies can’t exactly decompose. Yes, they can die and lose consciousness, but those Lums inside them don’t allow the body to rot. So what happened to those bodies? Leave them in the depths of Eden to rot.

Back to Rayman, one day, he manages to slip his hand loose from the chains and free him. This happens when Ramon is just made. The Board orders the Niji 6 to hunt and bring back Rayman. During his escape attempt, Rayman accidentally causes an explosion ‘killing him’.

We’re gonna pause his story and shift to Ramon.

Now, I wanna talk about his reaction to Red in ep3. Clones share the same memories as the original, but they don’t experience it the same. It’s like knowing something and actually being there.

The Rabbids attack, but Ramon isn’t really stressed about them attacking. Was he that faithful in the Niji 6? Or was it something else?

Was it because he doesn’t have that trauma about them?

When Red calls Ramon an “interdimensional alien scum," Ramon bursts? Why? Because he experienced it. He experienced being belittled and talked down by his colleagues at work. He knows how it feels, so he’s pissed.

If Rayman was in his place, Rayman would be fidgety and panicky about the Rabbids and brush over Red insulting him. If anything, Rayman would be thanking Red for stopping them. Yes, Rayman was talked down in college and his early days, but the Rabbids changed his life.

You could argue that it’s because he had his cry before the cameras were running, but he shows no sign of that. No voice cracks or eye twitches. And the fight just happened, which explains the presence of Red.

Going back in time for a moment-

Ramon was the latest RayClone and the last one with the ‘death’ of Rayman. This makes Eden super protective over him and his opinion on Eden. Other RayClones in the past were either too disfigured to seamlessly become Rayman, or found / was close to the truth. They need to keep Ramon pure.

How does one keep something pure and untouched? Isolated them, of course!

(Note the use of the word ‘illusory’ here)

This also explains the ‘Eden-generated’ scripts. Rayman wrote his own scripts. Rayman said his own opinion. Now, 10+ years later, Eden writes Ramon’s scripts. Ramon says Eden’s opinion.

If he was stripped of his freedom, then how would he be infected with the truth?

If he wasn’t needed anymore.

This is where Fakeman comes in. I think Fakeman is Raymesis, due to those yellow eye highlights you can see in a split second.

The Board wasn’t as faithful in Ramon as they were previously. He might’ve had some outbursts before ep3. They needed a backup. They can’t clone him, the clone would be to fucked up. They needed another Rayman.

Remember the Rabbid invasion in ep2 / 3? While the Niji 6 was dealing with the kaijus, guess who was snooping around the Glade for a Rayplacement?

Raymesis was kidnapped and forced to work for Eden if he liked it or not. They weren’t going to clone him yet, but to keep him in line, instead of acceptance (like they did with Rayman), they used threats.

This explains Fakeman’s uneasiness in ep6 with Retribution Day. That was his first big acting event, and the one Eden decided if he’s replacing Rayman on stage or in the basement.

Look at his face when it’s canceled. Bro looks scared shitless.

But Fakeman and his lore / personality is a whole ‘nother post.

Ramon follows the same path as Rayman. Seeing something unfair (Rayman’s friend getting arrested and Ramon losing his job), and doing something about it.

It’s that Ramon is filled with vengeance and anger because his whole life was a lie.

Rayman is filled with doubt and confusion because he just refound his purpose, and that was a lie.

Rayman’s whole journey throughout this is finding his purpose. His original purpose was to ‘save everybody’, and that failed. He went to America to find a purpose and did with Eden. In his character bio in the art book mentions this purpose line.

“Even happier that Eden gave him purpose”. Why? Because he lost his original purpose! He felt he was nothing before Eden gave him everything. He’s under the mindset that Eden gave him his meaning of life again.

They quite literally saved his life.

Anyway, what does Rayman do after his ‘death’? Have an identity crisis of course! He was locked up for over 10 years, his brain is scrambled eggs at this point!

He failed his purpose for Eden, so he resorts back to his original purpose: Be a Hero.

But, what about the Rayman on TV? Is he the real one?

Rayman’s mindset is that he was created to be a hero. Heroes are brave, speak the truth, and rise up against bad. What is the Rayman on TV doing?

He’s being brave, speaking the ‘truth’, and rising up against ‘bad’.

What’s the real Rayman doing?

He’s being a coward, secret about what he knows and saw, and hiding against the bad.

Heroes don’t do that. So Rayman must be a fake. He must be the RayClone. He’s the mistake. At least, that’s what he made himself think.

Now, I won’t get into my ideas for Season 2. If people want it, sure. I will. But for now, I’ll leave it at that. This is 2200+ words, and I’m grasping at the air at this point.

If you disagree? Great! If you don’t? Great! Tell me your own thoughts / theories then!

[justallihere]

“That was easier than I thought,” Rhiannon said quietly. She knelt when Violet did, hinging open the guard’s mouth so Violet could tip some of the sleeping concoction in. They did the same to the other.

Ridoc had an unimpressed scowl on his face. “Infantry are useless,” he muttered. He left them where they lay and turned on his heel to stalk inside.

[brittlebutch]

"You're a good girl, Tula," Mama comments indulgently, as if Tula was still a kit rather than something fully grown, settling back in to poke and prod Tula into place enough to continue combing through the dust and knots matting up her fur. Bitterly, Tula wishes she didn't have to be. But whatever world exists where Tula had the option of that freedom, it isn't this one. She had gotten tantalizingly close, near enough to taste it for a little while, but the path took a hard turn a the last second, and now Tula is left to salvage what little she can from the wreckage of what could have been.

words: 3,241

[apocalyp-tech-a]

Anyone else feel like this? 😆

[suitetarts]

reasons to be honest

Astarion x Original Female Character, Dark Urge Tav (Good) Angst, Comfort, Kissing, Fluff (Link to AO3) After Astarion’s confession, Delilah is conflicted but still very in love–which she hasn’t quite admitted to yet. Unfortunately for sober her, she is a sad drunk on a mission after the celebrations in Moonrise Tower. Angst-fueled barbs and comforting words ensue.

Another one shot with my Tav, Delilah. This one happens to make no reference to her features or gender, just that she's a drow with mommy issues. You can go to the AO3 series for the other fic I have for her, or click here.

“Another… please.”

The red tiefling boy hesitates as Delilah’s head rolls awkwardly to the side, the previous shots of liquor clearly hitting her hard. Her piercing red eyes dart to his unmoving hands and then meet his own in a cold glare. With a squeal, he grabs a new liquor bottle from Ketheric’s stores and begins to pour once more.

Another child, a bluish tiefling with tight curls, collecting bottles from the small goblin hovels hidden throughout the first floor of Moonrise, comes marching over to chastise. “Drow Lady, oi! That’s enough!”

“Mmm? I saved your sorry little hides ‘nd you’re cutting me off?” Delilah exhales out of her nose indignantly, easily swiping the nearly full bottle from the boy’s hands.

“Oi oi oi! But that’s s’posed to be mine to sell on the road,” the blue tiefling cries.

The darkness within her, the other parasite on her psyche that pulls her to violence, begs her to reverse her grip on the bottle and crack it open, spilling red across the floor in a viscous new style of carpet. Delilah lets out a puff of air and pushes the thought away with a spot of effort. As she walks away with a stagger, she raises her free hand to wave the children good night.

The various hallways and great meeting spaces that were host to a battle between her companions and the Absolute cultists only a few hours ago is now just a bloody path of stones, one that she hopes will lead her to her bedroll. These cursed lands had truly been a nightmare in every sense of the word. Delilah is hopeful that being one step closer to their goals will allow her some peace and rest. However, she knows that defeating Myrkul’s Chosen can’t possibly help the matters of the heart that tear her from a good night’s sleep.

As the liquid inside the bottle hits her lips, she winces. Blood red and horrendously strong like it was distilled from pure malice. Whoever had decided to keep this in their stores either had something powerfully flavorful to mix it with or hated themselves. Delilah ponders if there is anything in this tower that would be sweet enough to cover the taste, blushes, and takes a decidedly large and bitter sip.

She curses under her breath as she finds herself walking the ramparts of Moonrise, her mind wandering back to Astarion despite the severity of all their other issues surrounding the tadpoles. Delilah continued to mull over their talk the other night and had been unintentionally distant, even though she knew that there was still so much more to say. The discussion replays in her mind once more. Astarion had, at least initially, lied about it all. He had manipulated her so comprehensively, body and soul. He told her such sweet things, some that she recognized as flirtatious tricks, but others that she had come to actually believe. He laid with her nearly every night not because he wanted to, but to control her. The bastard had admitted to her face that the only part of his plan that failed is, essentially, he harbored guilt about doing it after catching feelings.

And even after hurting her so profoundly, Delilah had reassured him. The typical shrill tone with which he joked or complained or flirted during their adventures was absent, replaced with a lower, more melancholy genuineness that she couldn’t help but comfort. She said that she deeply cared for him, that she would stay by his side as he created boundaries for himself. The two had a productive yet brief discussion and she never lied, not a single sweet word or supportive touch. 

All despite her heart cracking down the middle, threatening to shatter. 

Delilah staggers, reaching to the cold stony walls of the tower for support. Her fingers grip the edge of one of the stones and she could imagine it was Astarion’s collarbones. Her nails dig into the sandy mortar for a moment as her temper flares, before guilt and sympathy eases the tension in her joints. She feels justified in her frustration, but he doesn’t deserve her anger. His situation is beyond complicated and she truly is trying to understand it from his perspective. She goes through the situation again, as accurately as she can manage:

After being kidnapped and implanted with ticking time bomb mind flayer parasites, a hot and powerful drow sorceress (with a tendency to murder without warning or reason!) prances around in the wilds of the Storm Coast with a group of equally powerful strangers, including a famous monster hunter and a fierce alien warrior. The sorceress comes across a vampire spawn that has done little else besides use his body to ensnare meals for his master and suffer indescribable abuse for multiple mortal lifetimes. It makes perfect sense that he would use the tools at his disposal to secure his safety with a band of questionable characters. It makes sense to deceive one of these powerful fools into a relationship. It makes sense to target her as the leader of the group. It makes sense to manipulate her until she is no longer useful. It makes sense to try his damnedest to not actually feel anything for her, because gods forbid she’s worthy of real love. It makes sense. It makes sense.

Delilah sighs into the darkness. Perhaps this was not the most favorable interpretation to Astarion’s reasons for pursuing her the way he did. He had admitted that he’d fallen for her, that he wanted them to be real. It was her who felt an implication in his words that he wanted them to be real moving forward and that everything before was never real.

A chill runs through her as she takes another sip of liquor and she decides to focus on finding her way to camp. She rounds the same door twice before going the correct path and finding a host of friendly faces. Lae’zel, Aylin, and Isobel are near the door, with the former two animatedly discussing fighting techniques while the cleric takes the opportunity to rest and enjoy the peaceful evening with her lover. Delilah stops for a moment to listen in before moving further into camp, where Wyll and Karlach speak in a more somber tone around the fire. She almost goes to join them, but Karlach’s heat and ire at the Chosen of Bane the group had seen right before the battle with Ketheric is palpable in the air. Perhaps it's selfish, but she doesn’t want to be angry for Karlach's sake. Not when she’s already feeling so anxious and irritated about her own stupid problems.

Owlbert barrels past Delilah with Scratch hot on his feathered tail, passing close enough to her that she dodges clumsily and begins to trip. Her hands are sent to break her fall but instead catch on the bleached white linen of Astarion’s shirt.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth before speaking with a coy grin. “Darling, I knew you’d fallen for me but I didn’t realize you were going to take it literally.”

A fierce blush overtakes her, bringing a pink tint to her gray complexion. Her tongue rolls awkwardly in her mouth as she tries to cover herself, “I– I didn’t mean to fall. But thank you.”

“You’re completely trashed,” Astarion observes with amused surprise as he attempts to help restore Delilah’s balance. He steadies her forearms before tentatively letting go. Her red eyes, so similar to his own, beam up at him as she only slightly wobbles. His lips pull into one of those sweet half smiles that he only gives to her. “Adorable.”

“Y’think I’m adorable?”

“We’ve been over this. You’re very attractive.”

Delilah narrows her eyes and snickers, doing her best to rub her hands together like a villain in a street play while still holding onto the bottle of liquor. “Again.” He rolls his eyes and begins to lead her towards her tent.

“This–” Astarion emphasizes as he easily snatches the liquor from her loose grip. “–is for not returning the compliment.”

While Astarion has it hoisted in the air, he inches his nose closer before reeling at the strong vapors of the alcohol. She does not opt to carry herself with the typical pride of a female drow, instead choosing to whine and reach for the bottle. The two are evenly matched on height, but he's a master at using his tricks to keep any item just barely too far away.

“Tut tut tut. You know how this works dear.”

She stamps her foot down playfully. “I’ve told you a million times, ‘Starion. You’re–” 

He cuts her off with a press of his index finger to her lips. “Ah-starion. If you please,” he asks with a shiteating grin. “Do continue.”

Delilah pulls her mouth to a straight line as she groans in her throat, but her eyes betray the annoyed facade she’s trying to convince him of. They’re smiling. She starts again, “I’ve told you a million times, Ahhh-starion. You’re perfectly gorgeous.”

He preens with satisfaction, tossing his hand through his hair for dramatic flair. “Thank you love, you’re quite perfect yourself.”

Delilah hums and turns away, in part to watch her feet as they approach her tent and also to avoid him seeing her as she repeats his words in her head. Her? Perfect? After all the nasty and selfish thoughts she’s had tonight, and every other night since he finally opened up to her? Hardly. Not to mention that falling for some charlatan with a pretty face and a sad life who tells her what she wants to hear is all far too unbecoming for a drow of her nobility and breeding. Her mother would literally kill her three times over for even an ounce of this behavior. It's frankly a miracle that a mistake like her made it to adulthood. And then there’s the whole thing with nearly uncontrollable murderous urges that, only a few weeks prior, had almost cost him his life?! Perfect.

Astarion notices Delilah’s withdrawal and leans forward to see her chin quivering and her eyes brimming with tears.

“Hey, hey, wait.” His voice drops its usual mirthful cadence. She stops, still facing away from him. “What’s wrong? Did I say something to upset you?”

“I’m not perfect,” she whispers just loud enough for him to hear. Delilah kneels at the rugs outside her tent, clumsily reaching behind her ass to take off her shoes. “Also, I think I’m mad… but I dunno.” 

“Mad at what?”

“At you.”

Astarion freezes for a split second before nodding his head in begrudged acceptance. He sets the bottle down and kneels next to her, leaning forward to make eye contact. “Better to be mad than leaving me, which frankly, is what I expected when I confessed what I had done to you. I deserve your anger.”

“No, you don’t,” she says, doing her best to maintain eye contact as the liquor and tears threaten to make her crumble. “Everything you did makes sense.”

He clears his throat, giving himself a moment to gather his response. “I had my reasons, but that doesn’t mean the things I did were right .”

Delilah’s throat contorts as she tries to suppress a sob. All at once, the proximity of the others makes her panic and she quickly retreats into the darkness of her tent. When Astarion doesn’t immediately follow her, she kicks the flap. He peeks in to find her sitting cross legged at the far end, her eyes darting between him and a pillow just out of arm's reach of her.

Nervously drumming against the stiff canvas tent flap as he holds it open, Astarion sighs. “Darling, I’m not sure you’ll be pleased that we’ve had this conversation when you’re so drunk. Maybe this should wait.”

She wipes her eyes with the collar of her shirt. “I don’ care, sit.”

As he crawls in on his hands and knees, his fingers splaying out as his palm leans into the plush of her bedding, she closes her eyes to steel herself. Of their many encounters prior to Astarion’s confession, most of those had been spent here. She was no stranger to the ways of pleasure, but he had brought her to rapture in ways she had never imagined were possible. She had thought of those nightly trysts as an escape from reality, an easy and fun passion to help them both get away from the looming despair of the tadpoles. Just the thought of how Astarion must recollect those evenings makes her own memories turn sour and rotten.

He mirrors her cross legged sit from across the tent, laying the pillow in his lap so that he can fidget with the tassels and flange. He is uncharacteristically quiet.

Was he expecting a scolding, for her to hit him, or some other form of anger, even cruelty? Delilah looks down at her feet. “D’you think I’m gonna yell at you?”

“No,” Astarion says quickly. He plucks at the silver threads of her pillow. “Maybe.”

“I’d never–” she starts, before seeing a fang poke out of his smile and one of his eyebrows shoot up questioningly. “Well, not never, but not about this. ‘Nd I’m not really mad at you. I dunno. You just hurt me–a lot–when y’said you lied to me.” The words seem innocent and childish as she speaks them to her toes. After a pause, she adds, “For months.”

Astarion draws his shoulders forward until his nose almost touches his knees, almost as if he’s trying to make his body as uncomfortable as he feels. “I know, I’m sorry my love.” He looks up at her through his white lashes, a move that could fit right into his flirtatious fop routine if not for the sincerity dripping from his words. “You have every right to be mad.”

“Stop that,” Delilah begs, a smile breaking across her face as she lets out a short sad whimper.

He pulls his back straight once more, looking down before looking back up at her. “Stop what?”

“Stop apologizing and being so nice to me,” she sighs around a smile. But the smile quickly fades. She continues, “And complicated. I dunno.”

“I’m supposed to cut back on the complaints about the niceties you give to me, but you tell me to stop? I thought you wanted me to be all empathetic and sweet to every body,” he says with an air of their usual banter. The pair sit in silence for a moment as the tension once again rises, like a taut bow string waiting for the call to loose. 

“What do you mean… ‘complicated’?” Astarion asks, without hardly using any air to carry his words, staring at the pillow flange’s thread between his fingertips as he unweaves it. She knows that he knows what she’s talking about, in general terms. Delilah huffs as she lays down on her side facing away from him, unable to explain this with even the possibility of eye contact.

“I had a lot of fun when we did, y’know, horizontal stuff. I thought you did too,” she starts nervously, holding onto her shoulders as she curls in on herself. “But now… Gods, I’m so gross. I took advantage of you. And you–”

“Stop. You didn’t take advantage of me.” His voice sounds strangled behind her. She can hear him padding closer to her, slowly. “Please, look at me.”

She curls further into herself. “But you didn’t want to fuck me.”

“Stop it, Del. Stop,” Astarion says sternly, pulling her back flush to the ground. He reaches over to hold both of her shoulders in place as he steadies himself on his knees to her side. His eyes unintentionally drift towards her neck, and she recalls this position, with him leaning his chest over hers, is much like that first night when he fed from her neck. His throat bobs, swallowing his sanguine hunger, and returns his eyes to watch hers. “I tried to explain the other night, but– Please understand me when I tell you that everything I did was what I wanted. My intentions weren’t, uh, always the most proper. But! I did want to fuck you. I want to fuck you now. It's just… not that simple.”

Delilah’s skin is hot underneath Astarion’s intense gaze and salacious words, especially the way his hands grip tighter at the idea of taking her at this very moment. She could almost be satisfied with this explanation if sex was truly all that mattered to her. Luckily for them both, it was not.

“Did you ever want to kiss me?” She breathes the question, her eyes softening under the heat of his presence. 

He scoffs, releasing her shoulders to kneel beside her. He snakes a hand along both sides of her jaw and tenderly pulls her head up as he leans down to kiss her. Her hands fly up to his ears, her fingertips dragging through his curls. He brings her in closer, their teeth just barely feeling the pressure of the kiss, before he pulls away to hover over her face. He lets out a breath as he answers simply, “Yes. Any time you ask.”

“Even at first?”

“Even the most cold-hearted bastard wouldn’t look at a pretty thing like you and not want to kiss her,” Astarion says honestly, although a hint of his flirtatious tone seeps through. 

Delilah tucks her chin into her shoulder, the blush creeping down from her cheeks to her neck and threatening to envelop her whole. She deflects to save herself from burning up. “That better not be a canned line.”

“Well…” His voice cracks and the smile on his lips falters, before he searches her face for some evidence of forgiveness. She still looks like putty in his hands, flushed and pliable. His eyebrows pull together, from pity or guilt or a combination of, as he answers her. “It doesn’t matter, da– Del. It’s true.” He leans back down for a chaste kiss before pulling his hands away from her and returning to a comfortable sitting position.

As he pulled away from the kisses, she did her best to give him a sweet smile but it didn’t quite make it to her eyes. He sighs, laying within reach of her onto his side with his head propped up by his arm. “I’m sure you’re not having an easy time trusting me lately, but… Honestly, it's true.”

She sympathized with his mild frustration. He was saying and doing all of the right things, and they were true, so why was she still upset?

Rhetorical question: she knew.

“Astarion?” She turned to face him with her elbows together and hands gripped at her chest.

“Yeah?”

“I… I think I love you,” she whispers. By the tension between them and the blank look on his face, she feels that the air has been sucked out of the tent. She feels light and breathless, floaty even, at finally putting words to her inner turmoil, and so she continues. “Even though you’re a liar. And I think I’ve loved you for a while now.”

Astarion lets out a large breath, rolling onto his back. As he fearfully studies the roof of the tent, Delilah wonders if he’s reliving some terribly sad memories of others who told him the same thing, others that were doomed to fall prey to Cazador. She wonders if it's the opposite, that he’s never been allowed to keep anyone long enough for them to love him. Or simply that he doesn’t feel the same and doesn’t want to hurt her even more. No matter what his reason is, she reaches a hand out to lay in the empty space between their bodies. An offering that she allows him to take or refuse, regardless of how much she wants to pull him closer.

“Del, I– I’m not sure what to say, but I–”

“If you don’t love me back, or you don’t know how, or whatever…” As she continues, the words trip and catch on the emotion pouring through and threatens to burst from her very soul. “Don’t tell me the truth. I can’t, I’ll… But please, don’t lie either. No more lies.”

Astarion rolls back onto his side to look at her, to look at what he’s done to her. One of his hands finds hers in the no-man’s land between them, as the other snakes through to hold the other against her sternum. “No more lies,” he repeats, earning a nod from his crying lover. “I’m so sorry. I’m going to work on, well, me, and as I do, I will become better. Stronger. For the both of us.”

Delilah curls inwards around their conjoined hands, breathing warm but fading sobs onto the cool skin of his arm. “Are we… Are we going to be okay?”

“Unless you or the tadpoles have other plans.”

“Is that a ‘yes’?”

He pauses, uncomfortable still with the concept of optimism. Promises of good tidings she made to him were generally met with a bitter snap from a man who over centuries had the ability to feel hope beaten out of him. But, in this moment, he softens at her, as he always has, and says, “Yes.”

They lay in silence for a few too many moments, just holding each other's hands and sharing a peaceful moment of mutual understanding. Delilah begins to lose the fight against her heavy eyelids. The anger, embarrassment, and heartache all seemed so trivial as she laid there with him on the brink of consciousness. He was right; they would be okay. 

The last thing Delilah remembers is her grip loosening on his hand at her chest, but the lingering sensation of his cool skin on hers. When her trance breaks, she finds herself parched under a haphazard pile of blankets with a certain elf still resting at her side. She gently lays some of the warmest ones on top of Astarion before she leaves to nurse her hangover, just barely missing the way his eyes peek open mischievously. She misses the way he hesitates to follow her, instead choosing to snuggle into her warmth like a reptile to a sunny rock, trying to keep her heat to himself as the stones beneath the bedding already begin to sap it cold and dry.

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

how do you make the most nightmare fuel beings into adorable little gremlins!?!!?!?!!?

(Oh! It's such a tragic tale! For when I was born, I was cursed!

Any drawing utensil, be it a pen, pencil, stylus, paintbrush, any tool I may wield! Anything I would create would become adorable, no matter my efforts to evoke horror and terror!

Oh! Oh, woe is me!

Silly answer aside: I don't know lol

[ssreeder]

Ollooooo!

I was tagged by @erisenyo @chiptrillino & maybe someone else? Idk I’m sorry I love you all. For the last line that I’ve written, so here it is -

“I find the different nation’s war strategies interesting, and a ruse like this is precisely what I would have expected from the Southern Water Tribe fleet.”

im supposed to tag some people: @maaaxx @hella1975 @sockfus @chiptrillino (writing please.) @punkjet @y-s-t-v

It’s the last line you’ve written (please all of you feel free to ignore me except one of you don’t you ignore me. Mwahahahaha (seriously don’t befriend me I’m so annoying)

Anyone else feel free to join & tag me so I can see wohoooo!!!

[misc-obeyme]

Asmo as someone who figures it out was something I haven't thought of! Fascinating! Is it because he likes to sort of learn someone's habits?

Me personally, if someone starts treating me differently without my request, I will get pissed. If my own family forgets that I can't hear certain shit, they have no reason then to treat me differently. To 🦊 anon: If someone says I am hard of anything, they will get hit with a hard cover book. I will ignore though, if I only partly heard ya. CC I read your answer before, regarding how you feel towards Solomon role is the whole NB plot, but how about Barb's? It seems to me like he knows that mc is from the future, yet will not admit it or even discuss it? Did you have another unhinged CC rant about it? Cuz I will read. Have a great day! -🐆

The thing about Asmo in my opinion is that he's actually quite intuitive when he takes the time to focus on someone outside of himself. He always says that he's never cared about anyone as much as himself except for MC. So I kinda think he would pay particular attention to MC and thus pick up the clues that others might miss. I also feel like Asmo is one of the few characters who doesn't get flustered to some degree when MC gets close to him. (Belphie is this way too so he might also pick it up.) So when they're having one on one conversations or Asmo might also just realize that ignoring people doesn't fit MC's personality (if it does then he might not figure it out as easily lol). But these are just my ideas on his character! I feel like a lot of this nuance doesn't really exist in the game and some of it I've kinda just elaborated on in my own headcanon lol.

That makes sense, pretty sure I'd get pissed off about that, too. I like to think most of the characters, if they figured it out, would ask you about it directly before starting to act differently. Some of them might just jump the gun on that, but if you got upset with them, they'd stop right away.

Ah... now I'm a touch confused about the correct terms... but usually it's my policy to use the same language as the person I'm talking to, since that would clearly be their preference.

You know, I don't think I have an unhinged Barbatos rant that's specifically about his role in Nightbringer. I looked in the masterlist and the archive, but it was all just sorta embedded in my rants about Solomon lol.

I've definitely said in one or more of my lesson recap posts that I think Barbatos knows everything. Mostly because he often did things that felt like proof to me, so I'd point them out. But I don't think I elaborated all that much on it? Not in just one post, anyway.

I have several posts about why I love Barbatos in general lol. But maybe I should write one about how I feel about Nightbringer Barb specifically? Mostly I think he knows everything, but won't talk about it, just like you say. I mean, he doesn't even act like he doesn't know what's going on. When he tells MC "welcome home" at the HoL even though they don't live there and he's like ah yes... or the time he gave MC a page from his grimoire to deal with Belphie as if he knew they would need it shortly?? Yeah. He knows and he's not hiding it. It's more like he's blatantly keeping a secret, you know?

But they never give us the chance to confront him about it and that's the most annoying part for both him and Solomon, imo.

Like I would not have just been like oh okay taking your word for it, whatever you guys say. No, I would be demanding answers from both of them wayyyy before now.

Anyway, I better stop before this post becomes an unhinged CC rant.

[exsqueezememacaroni]

Ashes to Ashes, part 10, FIN X

[id0what1want]

I love planning my own writing shaking my head violently, mouthing for help, tapping morse code for sos onto the camera lens

[mirchloe]

the next b-movie chapter is gonna go up tomorrow when i'm not nursing a bump on the head (THUMBS UP)

[positivelybeastly]

Do you ever resent Scott Summers?

"Resent - ? What, no! Scott is, well, he's something of a martinet, to be certain, and he could definitely lighten up a tad, but what is there to resent? Anyone with so much as a hint of maturity can see that he's simply trying his best in an impossible situation. I sometimes think that the Professor puts a little too much pressure on him, to be frank. No, I do not resent Scott Summers one bit. If anything, I'm grateful for Scott Summers."

"Scottie? Pfft, not one bit. He may appear stiff and unapproachable, and - he is." Hank grins a little, like Fozzie Bear after a particularly awful joke. "But he's also a great friend. He tries his best, he really does. Does he fall short? Sure. But we all do, every now and then. The real important part is that he tries. That's all I can ever ask of him."

"Is it resentment? I'm not quite sure. On the one paw, he - he - " Oh, this answer is off to a brilliant start. Hank takes off his glasses and rubs at the bridge of his nose.

". . . He's gone too far. I look at him, and I don't see the same man I thought I knew all those years. I want to see that man. I want so badly to just, go back and apologise, and tell him that the water is firmly under the, X-Force, shaped, bridge. Because I understand why he did it. That's the thing I truly do resent him for, is that I can't even say I don't get it, because I do, now.

But mostly I resent everyone else. Because when I left, no-one came with me. They stood with Scott, and they stood with Logan, and they had the audacity to act as if I were the one betraying them, as if I was the one who turned their back on them, when those two were lining up shots and taking them. Is that not a betrayal? To look at the principles that we were taught, at the basic decency, at the common human covenant of 'thou shalt not kill', and deem them a luxury, and not our guide?

. . . Yes. Yes, I do resent him."

Hank's very, very quiet for a good long time, just seeming to stare into the distance. "I think, that . . ." He's quiet again, his thumbs drumming against one another.

"I think that Scott brings out the worst in me. I think that I resent him for being - for being the man that mutantkind needed, when I very much wasn't. I resent him for dying a hero. I resent him for running headlong past the limits I set for myself, for doing things I would consider reckless and irresponsible and ruinous for mutantkind, and being rewarded for it. I resent him for exposing that yes, it really is the petty, wounded little heart that actually drives this big blue brain, after I spent so much time cultivating an image of logic, of cool, of pretending that it didn't."

He swallows.

"I resent Scott Summers for exposing the fact that in the end, I'm simply not good enough. For validating what I've known all along. Clearly, it's all his fault."

His gaze is cold.

"What's to resent? It was embarrassing for a time, I suppose, to be caught so thoroughly off balance and waste so many years pretending that Cyclops' methods were anything other than absolutely necessary. But now, I possess perfect clarity.

Cyclops was right. His only flaw was that he lacked the stomach to follow through."

He starts, blinking, taking a moment to - process, think, to collect up his marbles in a little black bag. He sniffs.

"Resent him? No. No." Hank shakes his head. "Mostly, I just . . . I just miss him."

"Fuck that body condom wearing little twit. Resent? Please. What's to resent? An army of brats from a variety of increasingly more ridiculous futures, his lack of an ass, the way he simpers and sniffs and eats his soup like a little dweeb? Resent. Pffft."