#its a very fun campaign!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sparring-spirals · 1 month

Text

There is a universe in which i was caught up properly on CR whenever what the fuck went down and Imogen verbally and definitively declared that- after everything leading up to this and the back and forth and indecision- that she'd be willing to take down her mom if need be. and i would have been deeply insufferable and writing 20+ separate meta posts and liveblog yelling posts and shitposts. This is not that universe so instead we will put this post here where i can have wildly uninformed (aka 20 eps behind) Emotions about it until someday i actually catch up.

(I know. i accidentally wrote potentially wildly off base/deeply out of date meta again. what can i say. i like shaking the concept of An Imogen (even if it is Outdated Imogen) in a jar. sorry.)

Because i was watching long enough, I think, to see Imogen in the throes of the hope for something better, to understand that Imogen was viewing her mom was a figure and an idea and an answer, that would make things easier. Her mom was- gone, so early. And so her mom, in her mind, was not a person she was an idea, and there was so much hinged on that! Dogged determination and anger at her father and a deep seated dislike of the powers in her hands and head even as they gave her a guilty rush. There were promises there that maybe no one else had made, but Imogen believed. Things built up. Expectations made. Lore crafted, even unconsciously, around someone who was, yes, important to Imogen, but more importantly: Missing. Gone. A blank slate to be filled in. A promise of an answer guide to open questions.

And then she meets her mom, and Liliana Temult goes from a figure to a person- with all the bells and whistles and rough edges. She meets her mom and her mom turns her away. Tells her to run. Tells her she should go. Tells her to leave.

And Imogen doesn't. In the same way she kept visiting libraries, keps asking, kept pushing for answers when it was just about her magic and her headaches and the voices. Imogen always, always wants to know. She keeps digging, she keeps trying, she reaches out, over and over and keeps trying to touch this figure in mist until she's real under her hands, and. Evidence piles up- of deeds gone wrong, blood on her hands, a figure standing next to Otohan (her friends bodies scattered, lifeless, around Otohan). She keeps reaching out, keeps trying, and is rebuffed, over and over. Things get worse and the skies get redder and magic goes dead and she's still- unsure, because what if there's a better reason, what if there's a better way, there has to be a reason, why. There has to be, right- maybe if- maybe. Maybe-

Its just like- a person as an idea. As a symbol. As a promise. One you build yourself up around and towards. One you talk about, not talk to.

And then the fog clears, and they are a human.

(And she's your mom, and she's not what you imagined. She's done you wrong. She's done your loved ones wrong. She's hurt you. She's hurt others. She's going to keep hurting you. She is going to keep hurting everyone. She is too far gone to reason with. She is not listening to you. She is flawed. She is. dangerous. She looks so much like you. You look just like her. You are so similar. You have always known you were similar. You always hoped. You.

Are not her. You are not hers. She is not yours. She is not who you thought she was. She was always someone else. So are you.)

Imogen walks through the bases pretending to be her mother. Liliana is a known face- a powerful one, a figure people fear. A well known silhouette. Imogen slips into the shadows of it, sometimes, when it serves her, but we know- she knows- its all an act. All a lie.

Liliana, after all, is alive, and well, making choices that she believes in and fighting for things with a dogged determination maybe only matched by her daughter.

Imogen knows this. I think. There's a part of her that maybe wishes that wasn't the case.

"There is no loyalty with this blood." And after all- only living people bleed.

#im so sorry for yet again writing deeply uninformed. idk if this counts as meta. its more me going 'hey if this IS whats happening. WILD.'#critical role #cr spoilers #c3e88 #imogen temult #spar speaks #liliana temult #this is REALLY just a word vomit based on gut assumptions from what i actually watched. my vague knowledge from posts ive seen. and now thi #im functionally playing connect the dots here which is. Not How Meta Should Be Written so take this more as fun speculation prose i guess??#no one take this too srs its mostly so if/when i finally watch everything i can reference how off my assumptions were #this is def based off where things were around when the solstice happened bc thats when i was last mostly caught up #so the odds of me fully MISSING some important imogen dev and character things since then are. actually its not odds. its like.definitive.#but maybe this is true for at least early campaign imogen to ep 50 imogen #and it would be VERY cool if it actually applied to her now #i kept saying 50 eps but looking at my last liveblogs it might he closer to 20-30. ... still.

27 notes · View notes

wolf-2099 · 1 year

Text

Cybereyes Include an Eye Recording Unit (for no extra cost)

Word count: 2,481

Characters: Blessed, F1N4L1T¥ (Mentioned)

Summary: Blessed kills time on a roadtrip by rewatching some of the memories caught by his cybereyes. What kind of memories? Well, literally only the gay ones.

My name is…. Ren Kanim….. Ren Kanim…. Ren….. Ren…..

Blessed sunk deeper into the plush bus seat as he sighed, replaying the memory over and over again. It was times like this he was happy his cybereyes came with that free recording software. It was always things related to F1N4L1T¥ that made Blessed happy he was recording every going on that he saw. F1N4L1T¥- no, Ren. They were the memories he rewatched over and over lately. Before, he would just watch bittersweet memories. But now, as of late, he had memories that genuinely lit a fire inside of his chest. An ache between his ribs. Why did they make him feel this way? What exactly is it that these memories stir inside of him? Sure, he liked F1N4L1T¥. He'll admit that (to no one but himself and King). But this felt… Strange. More than just a simple crush. An infatuation. Was it just that Blessed had never truly felt an attraction to someone before on a level that wasn't purely a fleeting appeal to their physical appearance? Sure, Blessed was inexperienced. He was aware of this. Everyone was. Even King had mentioned how he had never gone on a date before. And, well… That led to another memory Blessed watched back fondly. The time F1N4L1T¥ and him went to the mall food court together.

A "fake date", F1N4L1T¥ had called it. Two people spending time together and talking, loudly, in public. That's what they said. A fake date… Blessed wished it could have been real. Alas, there was that "real" date they went on in Vegas. Well, more like Dread and M00nshine went on a date together. It was a real date though, right? It felt like one, Blessed thought. And sure, maybe it was just "M00nshine" and not "F1N4L1T¥". Maybe they were on a date with "Dread" and not "Blessed".

Damn it. Being a Shadowrunner was a mess when you have all these fake names to keep up with.

Blessed didn't care who went on a date with who. He just knew that nothing would be right until he could go on a date with them. With Ren.

Whoever "F1N4L1T¥" is, I want to get to know them. That person. Blessed always thought. Whoever that may be, I want to get to know them better.

And now, Blessed had a better idea who he wanted to get to know better. Ren. Ren Kanim. That's who he wanted to get to know better. F1N4L1T¥. M00nshine. Whatever names and aliases they had. Blessed wouldn't mind getting to know all of them. But he knew, deep down, that the one he wants to know the best is Ren.

The satyr leaned his head back as he listened to the chatter inside of the bus. Casual, idle chit chat amongst the party as they continued the journey to Atlanta.

Ren Kanim…

Blessed smiled as he played back the memory once more. If anyone looked at him, could they tell he was up to something? Or would they just chalk it up to ol' Blessed being his usual, weird self. The smile faded from his face. Yeah, Blessed was weird. Unusual was his usual. Impulsive, naive, immature, gullible, stubborn, bull-headed Blessed. If he asked the party, there are probably a few more choice words they would have to describe him. Nothing positive, he thought. No, he was bizarre. He knew this. And he sighed again. Not the same sigh as before. That was light, whimsical. Happy. This was a dejected sigh. Defeated.

He knew he was difficult to like.

He hoped it was fixable.

He wanted F1N4L1T¥ to like him.

He wanted Ren to like him.

Blessed shook his head. It was quick, sharp. A sudden shake like his body had a shiver run through it. He just wanted to clear his head. Crossing his arms, he leaned his head back against the seat as he crossed a hoof over the opposite leg. He couldn't let himself spiral down that mental path. It's been bad enough since they left Detroit, he didn't want to spoil another day's mood with his own mental flagellation. It's what he was best at. Knocking himself down and kicking himself while down there in the dirt. It's how most of his thoughts ended up when he started thinking about his feelings for F1N4L1T¥.

He was no hero. No genius. No prince charming. He was just… Blessed. A weird freak from Detroit. And then there was F1N4L1T¥… They had so much experience. A colorful life. They were handsome and gorgeous at the same time. They talked so smoothly, sometimes so sweet.

Are my goat legs weird? Blessed had asked.

I've known people who have exclusively been attracted to guys with goat legs. F1N4L1T¥ had responded.

But that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. Not the question he was really asking.

Do you think my goat legs are weird? Do you think I'm weird? I want you to like me the way I like you. But I'm nothing like them. The ones you like. I never will be. Is it over before I've even had my chance to begin? Can I ever have a beginning with you, or am I doomed to run a race I was never really a participant in?

Damn it. There he went again with the downward spiral.

He played it back again.

My name is…. Ren Kanim…..

Would they hate it if they knew the things Blessed had saved- The things he played back to feel that ember in his chest burn again? Blessed cycled through all of them again.

The first meeting. When Blessed and King were given that first job with the group. A gunner and medic duo meeting up with some other ragtag Shadowrunners. Back then, Blessed wasn't sure what to think of the others, F1N4L1T¥ included. A hacker, a face. Some well dressed, smooth talking human. Depending on the job, could be important. Could be nothing. But nowadays, that meeting has a whole new meaning. Blessed would rewatch the memory, taking it in with a new perspective. The way F1N4L1T¥ introduced themself. The way they smiled. The way they talked to Blessed, then a stranger.

Another memory. A few months after that first meeting. They had all gone out to Dante's Inferno after scoring big with that Kirin rescue. Truth or dare had been nice, but everyone still too unfamiliar with each other to ask anything big. Anything deep. It was all fun, though. A good time. Blessed always got a chuckle out of watching F1N4L1T¥ give someone a nasty drink of Vodka and Milk. But that's not what he was watching for. No, it was when F1N4L1T¥ had gone out to the dance floor and found someone. Some random person. The memory watches them closely for a moment. At the time, Blessed wasn't sure why he was so interested in watching F1N4L1T¥ and some stranger get together and dance. Oh, but now he knows. And this moment in particular, every time he plays it back, makes the knots in his stomach twist more. It's the first moment he felt it. Whatever it was. But it was the seedling of the emotion he holds for F1N4L1T¥ now. Whatever it is in his chest, this was the start.

He wishes that stranger could have been him. Escorting F1N4L1T¥ out on to the dance floor. Spending that moment with them. Maybe they would laugh as they had a good time. Maybe they would have smiled at Blessed as they danced close together.

Next memory.

Ah, right. This one.

F1N4L1T¥ was so demure, so shy, as they talked to the gnome shop keep. A gift for Kevin. They talked so sweet, like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Do you have a crush on Kevin? Blessed had asked. His tone exaggerated to not come off as suspicious. F1N4L1T¥ gave a dismissive answer. One that could be taken as a yes, but I'm too shy to say it or a no, it's for the mission. Blessed's chest tightened as he rewatched the memory. Back then, he hadn't realized why he was wishing for F1N4L1T¥ to say it was the latter. He knew better now.

He wanted them to like him. He didn't like the idea of F1N4L1T¥ liking someone else. It was the ugly seeds of jealousy trying to plant themselves in Blessed's head.

Would you do this for me? Would you put so much thought and effort into a gift for me, like you are for Kevin?

The knots in his stomach continue to tighten as he continues.

Between the last memory and this, Blessed had realized it. He liked F1N4L1T¥. He had a crush on them.

And then, that early morning. When they confronted Kevin's dad and the cult leader, Erin.

Love.

The word felt like a thousand nails piercing into Blessed's very core. F1N4L1T¥ liked Kevin. They confessed it, thinking Kevin was unconscious. Blessed stood there, staring. The memory was only visuals, but Blessed still remembered the emotions he had back then.

You like guys who are ex-cultists? Blessed had asked. It sounded like a joke. It wasn't.

Another question where Blessed wasn't truly asking what he meant.

Could you like someone like me, then?

No. Of course not. That's not what F1N4L1T¥ had meant. Kevin was sweet, pure. He had potential, F1N4L1T¥ had said. Blessed knew what they meant. Kevin was everything Blessed was not.

Blessed scowled as he flipped to another memory. He wanted to watch the things that made him happy. This was the exact opposite of that. And yet, it still sparked something in him. A twisted sense of determination. He didn't want to give up hope. He wanted to think that there was still a chance that he could be the kind of person F1N4L1T¥ could like. He smiled, catching what the next memory was.

It was simple. One Blessed wasn't even involved in. But he had caught it nonetheless. And he's glad he did.

Bloshi, when they had first joined the group. Cleansing and cleaning everything and everyone they could touch. No one expected that their magical disinfectant wipe of a spell would clean the makeup right off F1N4L1T¥'s face. It caught Blessed by surprise. How angular their features were underneath all that work. They were breathtaking. Sure, they ran off to the bathroom and came back out several long minutes later looking their usual done up self- and they were still just as gorgeous as always. But something about seeing them so… Naturally. It made Blessed's chest swell again. He wondered why F1N4L1T¥ changed their features like that with makeup. It seemed important to them with how hastily they had sped off to fix what Bloshi had ruined, but Blessed didn't get it. He knew he never would. It was F1N4L1T¥'s own personal reasons. But Blessed still couldn't help but think that they were stunning. He felt selfish. He wanted to see them like that again. Was he a bad person? A selfish person, surely. But did that make him bad? He wasn't sure.

I'm proud of you.

The next memory. Blessed had been shaked up after dealing with the Sidhe inside of Dr. Andrea Payne. It wasn't enough that he lost sleep over the first time he had "killed" her, but now he had to live with the fact that he had killed her twice. But when he returned to the warehouse, hands shaking as they held on too tightly to the dart rifle he had used, there was F1N4L1T¥. Smiling, so warmly. They were staring right into the camera of the recording. Staring at Blessed. This was for him. A banner that congratulated him, and a snack sitting on the table behind waiting for him. It all felt so over the top. It was so very F1N4L1T¥. Blessed liked that about them. This moment was made by them, for him.

Blessed grew embarrassed and frustrated as the recording grew hazy and the POV unstable. Right, he had started crying back then. He wasn't expecting anyone to tell him he had done a good job, let alone F1N4L1T¥. No one ever told him that. And now, here was the person he desired attention from, giving him all the attention he could ever hope for. He wished he had held it together, had a better recording of F1N4L1T¥'s happy smile as they welcomed everyone back from a job well done. The base had been a disaster then, Blessed remembered. But still, there was F1N4L1T¥ going around with an excited gleam in their eyes from the success.

Blessed closed his eyes as he let himself remember things naturally. No more of the recordings from his cybereyes. They couldn't give him what he really wanted to remember now. Not a visual, but a feeling.

In Las Vegas. F1N4L1T¥, clinging to his arm. They were "M00nshine" then, and Blessed knew that was a different act than F1N4L1T¥. They made it clear it was two very different characters they were playing on this stage. But still, it felt like F1N4L1T¥. The way their arms wrapped around Blessed's own as they walked down the street together as they left the restaurant. The way F1N4L1T¥ clung to him so tightly it felt like circulation was being cut off. The way the warmth from their body seeped into his own- heating him up on the inside. It was a feeling Blessed would never forget.

Please don't fall. I don't want to have to carry you.

It's ok… You can carry me, if you want.

… Please don't fall.

Blessed would never forgive himself for that. But he knew just as well that he did the right thing. But oh, what he wouldn't give to pick F1N4L1T¥ up. To hold them in his arms in a princess carry perhaps. It didn't feel right back then. Not the right time. But given the opportunity again, Blessed fears he would not be strong enough to resist. He wanted to hold them. To feel them in his arms. Would they put their arms around his neck for stability? Would they be flustered by the way Blessed could pick them up so easily?

When they had gotten back to the condo. When they said good night… Blessed wished he could have joined them in bed. For nothing scandalous or inappropriate, he simply wanted to exist in the same space as them. To feel their warmth, their company. He wanted to burn the image into his mind of how peaceful they looked while they slept. Something so intimate that no cybereye recording could ever truly capture what it meant. He wishes he could have laid there beside them. How very selfish.

Blessed was a very selfish goat.

And yet, part of him didn't care.

He smiled, closed his eyes. He played it back once more.

My name is…. Ren Kanim…..

#dragon's writing #felix's oc stuff #💻 unethical weeb bitch face #technically DJHGJDSL #its 5 am dont look at me i was possessed to write and it just kept going #yes all of the quotes in this are from actual moments in campaign #and i tried to remember the full quotes the best i could for accuracy #a lot of it is just. me wanting to try and capture blessed's thought process and how his mind works #his thoughts are a lot different from the way he actually talks aloud so this is very different and fun #anyways it is what it is writing is already hard to sit through and this si 2.4k words #and its an oc self ship for a ttrpg campaign no one knows abt so if you dont read it i wont be mad

26 notes · View notes