#yes this is about cr

[six-improbable-things]

I've said it before and I'll say it again. Sometimes the dice tell a better story than anyone ever could if they were trying.

[conditionaljewel]

i've had posts blocked all week. i've managed to avoid most things that would spoil anything, though i've seen a few posts that slipped through the cracks -- ah well.

i'm eager. i'm antsy. i'm nervous. i'm excited. i'm impatient ahhhhh

is it 10pm yet?

[boxingcleverrr]

Can't relate to people who don't multi-ship, or at least are at peace about others doing so, like.

I say this as someone who regularly gets lost in the sauce of media escapism: chill out we're all just smashing barbies together, it's not that serious.

[beauregardlionett]

i don't think you all understand how much they mean to me

[undead-knick-knack]

And of course he fucking loved it 😭🖤💜

[elliesgaymachete]

Imogen: Can I kiss you?

Laura:

[sparring-spirals]

so its really like. i love you. i love your power. i hate the source of it. i love you more than i hate it. i love you so much i'll never let you go. i love you. i love your power. i hate the thought of being away from you. i love you more than i hate that. if it means you reaching the full extent of your power i will let you go. i love you. i love you. that is a promise. that is a threat.

[soath]

The thing about Bells Hells is that asking their opinion on anything is like setting up a political survey at a rave under a bridge or in some sort of especially niche genre specific goth club or backstage at an off-off Broadway conceptual show; you’re going to get really interesting answers! They are not going to be representative of the general population in the slightest. There is a faction of people who think we need to solve this by introducing one Designated Average Relationship With The Universe Dave to the polling sample, ruining their beautiful natural diversity of guys-who-could-be-in-the-musical-RENT. To which the wise man says: “Never!” This is the little freaks with half baked philosophies and unresolved personal issues party. More pressingly, it has been noted that Bells Hells doesn’t seem to realize that their relationship with power writ large is bafflingly different from the average Exandrian. This is an problem, but it’s one that could be in-character, one more extension of an admirable commitment to trauma-informed alarming theological opinions.

[essektheylyss]

Look, I don't mean to be a broken record but my God, do you understand how much Essek's arc means to me?

Have you ever been so certain that there was one thing alone that you were meant to do, and you were encouraged to do it, and you put in the time and effort to learn and feel confident in it even beyond whatever measure of talent you'd started with, and then realized that no matter what your parents and your teachers said, the circumstances of the world were not going to let you do that? Have you ever had to leave the one place that had the resources and means to do that thing because those circumstances had become untenable and if you stayed you were going to be crushed under the weight of them? Have you spent years reckoning with the fact that you are so foundationally unsatisfied with anything else but you are not going to have this in the form you thought you'd have it, if at all, and instead had to force your way through appreciating the little things you do have—your partner and friends, who might not be there everyday but are there enough; what small work you can do, even if it's not exactly what you want to do, but it helps someone; the fact that there is a garden that you can tend to and cats to pet—and hope that those small things can amount to enough that the void that lives in you feels small enough to ignore? Have you found yourself surprised to realize that, while that will never quell it entirely, you can have that thing in piecemeal sometimes and maybe one day you'll have it again, and in the meantime somehow, miraculously, the rest is enough?

Like, do you get it? Does anyone hear me?

[maluspumilaa]

kept having thoughts about this post i made so heres sketches for the southerngothic farcille i have vaguely floating around in my mind

+ laudna in her monstery form

[greenteaandtattoos]

the sheer unfaithfulness of laudna's argument of, "i gave you a bruise, you gave me gashes" in trying to undermine orym's validity as if she wasn't the REASON he had attacked her, thinking she was an enemy because he couldn't SEE her after she cast darkness and she wouldn't SPEAK UP to assure him that it was her and she REFUSED to back down after he woke up and chose thievery and lashing out and risking his life AND his trust instead of COMMUNICATING, left me completely and utterly FLABBERGASTED at the AUDACITY

[six-improbable-things]

Seeing people from California describe extreme cold is very funny to me. Like, if it's warm enough for snowflakes to melt, and you're all bundled up, you shouldn't be that cold? And your breath fogs even when it's not that cold. Like, I've been walking around, totally fine in just a sweatshirt, or a t-shirt and a coat and still had my breath fog up.

[liltaireissocute]

protect me from what I want

[Perc'ildan took over my life like a plague]

[sky-scribbles]

Shepard holds a funeral for her clone.

The paperwork is almost harder than the ceremony. Turns out it’s tricky to register the death of someone whose birth - creation? Decanting-from-vat? - was never recorded to begin with. Then there’s some kind of question about whether the clone needs to be retroactively registered as a Council space citizen to have her death put on the official record, and if so, whether she counts as a member of the Systems Alliance or as an ‘undocumented alien’. Which is pretty fucking ironic, considering how utterly she’d have loathed having the word alien attached to her.

And once Shepard’s ground her teeth through a dozen calls and bludgeoned through the first layer of formwork - a death certificate still needs a name.

‘I have to put something,’ she says. She’s aware that her voice is ragged, and that Kaidan is watching her as he brews her fourth coffee of the evening with concern heavy on his face. She must look barely alive, up near midnight in a kitchen that was Anderson’s and still feels nothing like hers, hair falling forward, eyes shadowed grey. Datapads and empty mugs strewn around her. Fine. She’s felt barely alive ever since she woke up in a Cerberus lab.

‘You could choose one for her,’ Kaidan says gently. A lot of people speak to her gently, these days.

‘She’d hate that. A name makes you individual. She didn’t want to be an individual; she wanted to be me.’

The cofee machine whirrs softly, sounding louder than it is in the open space of the apartment. It still doesn’t feel right, all this space for one person. Someone could drown in this much space.

‘She didn’t want to be you, though. Not really.’ Kaidan pours out the coffee, his eyes only leaving her face for a moment. ‘What she wanted was to be the symbol. The face on the vids.’

He carries the mug over and sets it down beside her hand. Shepard grips it tight. The unfinished form blinks up at her from the datapad screen, and she looks away.

‘I’m not asking this because I don’t support you doing it, or to judge you for it, or anything,’ Kaidan says, after a moment. ‘I just want to understand. Can you tell me why this is so important to you? I mean - I get that you were trying to save her, and she... she let go. But...’

He hesitates, and in his silence Shepard hears, she tried to kill you. She tried to take you away from me, and everyone who cares about you, for a second time - because she was jealous.

Shepard sips her coffee. It hasn’t had time to cool down, and her lips smart. She ignores it. She thinks.

‘What you said about... being the symbol,’ she says at last. ‘I get why she wanted it, or thought she did. I understand feeling that Commander Shepard is someone bigger than you are.’

Kaidan breathes out slowly, and takes a seat beside her.

‘I get feeling that you’re so small, so nothing, next to everyone’s idea of what Commander Shepard is. And when I fall short -’ She sees him prepare to protest, and cuts across him. ‘I do, I do all the time - I feel like it’d be easier if I were the symbol. Not...’ She waves a hand, indicating all the sleep-starved mess of her. ‘This. I don’t even know when what would Shepard do and what will I do stopped feeling like the same question.’

She lets her hand fall back onto the table. Kaidan takes it and holds it tight.

‘And I think of her, the clone, waking up in some Cerberus med bay. Confused. And Brooks - Brooks was there, feeding her things to believe, manipulating her, turning her into the symbol she wanted. And I get it.’ Shepard bites her burned lip. ‘Because I woke up in a Cerberus lab. And I was scared. And they used me, and I let them.’

What she does not add is, and sometimes I don’t feel any more real than her. I don’t have any way to prove that I’m the woman who died in the wreckage of her broken ship. They wiped away that woman’s scars. There could be all kinds of tech in my head, feeding me a lie, telling me I’m real.

She swallows. Her throat feels raw. ‘And now the clone’s dead, and no one cares. We’re planning a fucking party. If I don’t push for a funeral, she’ll just go unregistered and undocumented and everyone will keep joking about how crazy this whole mess has been, how I fell through a fish tank and a mad clone tried to steal my life, and it’d be like she never existed at all. I don’t have to fill in these forms. I could take the easy road and let her be a ghost. But I can’t do that, Kaidan. I can’t.’

He looks at her, his eyes steady and patient and full of worry. Then he slips an arm over her shoulder and pulls her in, and Shepard leans into him, needing the surety of his touch, his warmth. Anything that tells her she’s something more than a force piloting a set of N7 armour.

Kaidan presses a slow kiss to the top of her head. He holds her until she stops feeling ready to howl. Then he sits with her and helps her fill in the forms, helps her choose a name for the clone, one that fits. When morning comes, he calls C-Sec and stays on the line until they agree to release the body to the Normandy, into the custody of the only person who could be considered the dead woman’s relative. 

He doesn’t ask Shepard any more questions as to why she needs this done.

In the end, they bury her in space, as Shepard would a crewmate. And no one has stories to tell of what she meant to them. They have nothing to say about the achievements of her angry little life. But they wear their dress blues, and speak softly, and they turn the lights down low.

Shepard doesn’t know if this is what her clone would have wanted. Maybe she never learned to want anything for herself at all. It doesn’t matter. A funeral doesn’t help her clone; it helps her.

They lift the casket into the airlock. EDI opens the outer door. And the casket leaps away into space in a blur of silver-grey, like the body within is hungry for the stars.

[piratespencil]

God, every time Ashton makes a conscious choice to jump/fall from a great height it hits so hard. Ashton leaping thru the portal to grab Imahara Joe and soak the fall damage… when we know Ashton’s history with falls…. oof.

[beauregardlionett]

did i rant to my friends about dorian and orym just to be called a simp? yes i did. and i'll do it again.

these two characters? consume my waking thoughts. because just fucking think about this from a timeline/literary point of view for a second with me.

orym lost his husband and his father-in-law (who he always calls dad because he didn't have a dad growing up) in a violent attack on his leader a while ago and whatever magic was used to kill them kept them dead - no reviving magic worked to bring them back. in the space of a single attack, he lost two of the most important people in his life, and now he's a widow who still mourns and loves in equal measure even while far from home trying to save the world. he loves even though he's scared of losing again.

dorian is a runaway heir to a title he never really wanted, a musician for himself, a charlatan hiding behind an easy smile, who has really only ever wanted to see the world in his own time and make real friends for once in his life. and he did that! all on his own! he was with the group at the beginning of the campaign but then they ran into his older brother who was in trouble and needed to lay low and dorian went with him, falling back on old instincts that family by blood comes first. he ran from the group and from the foundations he was building with them. because dorian has only ever run from the things that scare him. but now he's back, re-traced his frightened footsteps toward the daunting promise of tomorrow - not yet with the group, we're getting his side of the story first. and he even said it himself, that he ran from the group and now he's not sure why he did it, why he left, when he stands here now and realizes everything he wanted was already in front of him.

they have sending stones, a once a day chance to say something to each other in 25 words or less. they've been using them, keeping each other updated on where they are, that they're still alive, and kindling this flame even without dorian at the table, without even seeing each other, and liam has been carrying this torch alone for 78 episodes but damn it the flame is still lit regardless!

and orym always updates on their progress and location first, and with whatever words he has left he drops in a sentiment to remind dorian that they still care - that orym still cares. and orym is practical through and through, he's a strategist so he always always always uses his words wisely because he's so fucking limited by this spell but the last message he sent? he repeated himself, he admitted a weakness, he faltered.

he told dorian where they were. he asked if dorian could come their way. he admitted to struggling while his voice broke. he asked again but in a different way if dorian could come their way. he ended the message with the most heartbreaking "fuck, i miss you," i have ever heard in my life.

orym, the man who messaged dorian 52 episodes ago and said "glad you're not here, wish you were anyway." because they're constantly in danger, and he wouldn't wish that on dorian, but he still aches to have him near. orym, the man who confessed 13 episodes ago during a trial with his friends that he's lonely, that he misses dorian and sometimes he thinks it's okay and sometimes he doesn't - because he was married and is still mourning and how dare he have feelings for someone else? how dare he move on even when his husband would WANT him to be happy again? he indicated dorian was missed by everyone in three of his previous messages before the trial, before finally shifting to 'I, orym, me - it's me who misses you'.

and dorian, the one who replied to a message orym sent him with "stay steadfast, sending you fairer winds" in the most longing tone i have EVER heard. dorian, who kissed orym's forehead when they parted ways but that is the closest they have come to acknowledging whatever is between them. dorian, who has been to orym's home between exu and c3 and met orym's mom and knows about orym's husband.

when orym died 58 episodes ago, he went limp and the sending stone slipped out of his hand because he was trying to message dorian before he died, before he ran out of words and breath. before he was revived, there was a moment he stood in the beyond and saw his husband and he told orym "you're not done," and orym said "i really wish i could stay," and then his husband said "i'll still be here," and orym said, heartbroken, "oh, i miss you so bad."

he told dorian, "i've really missed you," and "fuck, i miss you." i miss you is orym's way of saying i love you.

they're so close. they are so close. and orym fully died 19 episodes after dorian left, but he was revived and then never told dorian via sending that happened. part of me wants dorian to find out and the other part hopes he never has to feel like he failed orym by leaving. because nothing could have changed that from happening, not even dorian.

they are so close to reuniting, orym has needed dorian back for WEEKS and he's so close. i'm begging them to hold on so they can hold each other again.

and, again, from a literary point of view, you know the wildest part about all of this?

none of it is scripted.