Going back through the Mass Effect tags in my own blog looking for things reminds me of just how many insightful questions and beautiful prompts @dearophelia sent me over the years; so many of my thoughts about this game were clarified and expanded upon because of her.
I still can't believe she's dead. Can't believe BioWare's about to release a game she'll never play and have Opinions about. Because damn, did I always love her Opinions.
And at the same time, I am so fucking grateful that we were friends for so long, and that I have all these little snapshots of her beautiful, clever, diabolical storyteller's brain caught in this amber, and that as long as I'm alive, some part of her will keep living on, too.
We meet people throughout our lives who change it, in big ways and small ways, and ways we will never forget. Sara/ @dearophelia was one of those people for me.
I met her here, on tumblr, about 10 years ago. I wish I could remember what piece of writing I stumbled onto first, but she was such a gifted writer that I immediately wanted to see more. I somehow wound up following her live blog of a road trip, which was full of uproariously snarky jokes about Ohio. I had the courage to reach out and tell her how funny I thought she was, and how great her username was to this fellow Mass Effect fan who lived right down the road in Kentucky and got all the Ohio jokes.
We talked. We chatted. I introduced her to a group of people I played Mass Effect 3’s multiplayer with. She grew from a level one first-timer to a total badass who could carry a team and taught other people how to do the same thing.
And then my life fell apart.
Everything fell apart for me. Turning to my family wound up being a catastrophe, and I didn’t have local “real world” friends I could turn to.
So I texted Sara. Told her I needed somewhere to go, and asked if I could stay with her that weekend.
She texted back, “Yes.” Sent me her address, and said to ping me when I got there. She didn’t hesitate. She didn’t ask why. She just gave me shelter. So I showed up on her doorstep, and she listened while I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She didn’t think I was insane. She had every right to think both things. Instead, she gave me safe harbor at a time when I had no control over my life and didn’t know what was going to happen to me.
For the next several months, I made frequent trips up I-75 to Ohio. She kept an air mattress out for me. We played multiplayer. We talked about Mass Effect. We talked about life. We bitched about all the people who hated on one of our favorite characters. She introduced me to Babylon 5. I have so many memories of sitting on the couch in her apartment, with her cat Odo crawling around behind my head. When I eventually pieced myself together enough to leave Kentucky and start the work of starting over, it meant leaving behind that sanctuary with her in her apartment, and it was something I had to grieve along with everything else.
And now I am grieving it again, and so much more. I am so lucky I was able to fly back to Ohio a few weeks ago while I had the chance. Hugging someone goodbye, knowing it’s the last hug you’re going to get….well, it sucks.
But I got that hug.
Sara was so many things. She was a gifted storyteller with entire worlds in her head. One of the weekends I stayed with her, she had recreated the Mass Effect galaxy map on her wall with notecards and string to help her tell a story. She could create a character and make you fall in love with them in a matter of sentences. Because of her stories, I binge watched all ten seasons of Stargate SG-1.
She was also not afraid to unapologetically be herself. I had a lot of things to learn and unlearn about the world, feminism, gender, and sexuality, especially in those days. Listening to her fight for her space in the world and refuse to be told she was anything less than who she wanted to be helped me learn some of the things I needed to learn, and embrace the things I discovered about myself.
She loved music. She made the best fucking playlists. She taped inspirational notes around her condo. She sent me a set of coasters that say, “Fuck It,” and “Nah,” and I use them every single day. Her smile was gorgeous. She lit up a room.
And now she’s gone. I won’t see her in my tumblr notes anymore. I won’t see her on my dash. I won’t get pinged with new Odo photos. She won’t get to hear the new music I listen to that shows up in our Spotify blend. I won’t get to talk about the next Mass Effect game with her. I won’t get any more Ao3 updates in my inbox.
I wanted you to know about her – this pocket friend of mine who impacted my life in ways that I won’t ever forget.
I hope you will read her stories. Listen to her playlists. She was a brilliant human being. She should still be here. She isn’t.
Not the greatest melt, but I'm a little out of practice.
11 years ago, Sara and I started this blog because we were going a liiittle stir crazy from the start of a Midwestern and Northeastern winter. We also shared a love of grilled cheese. Deciding that we'd come up with as many variations as we could, we thought we'd make a Tumblr about it, because what else did millennials do in 2012?
Here we are, on July 30th, 2023, and Sara's gone from this Earth due to metastatic breast cancer. I hope she's at peace out there, wherever she is, whatever comes after life, if anything. I have to hope. For her, for my parents, for anyone else who has experienced an inconsolable loss. The only way out of this is through.
In honor of Sara, I'm going to recreate a few of her recipes and try to get back into coming up with my own. I'll make some grilled cheeses, or what some might more accurately describe as melts — ultimately it doesn't matter what they're called, because we started this blog to celebrate all things grilled cheese.
So, Sara, here's an homage to your ham + gruyere + gouda and pickle on sourdough. Ham, swiss, mustard, and pickle on Trader Joe's Tuscan Pane.
Shout out to the TJ's crew members who gifted me with a bouquet after I shared the story of this blog and what I intended to do with all of the great cheeses I'd bought. Thank you, thank you, thank you for brightening up my day, even just a little bit.
okay, i have tried three times now to no avail. can you help me with the correct route to get the poly sym/dys/sol relationship? please i’m desperate
Okay, so, I assume you've done Peace With The Gardeners.
SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT FORWARD.
To get the poly ending, you have to:
Do not date Dys when relationship with him reaches 100
But do flirt with Dys when the options arise otherwise
Do flirt with Sym, but do not date him until after this process
Let Dys blow up the wall or the medbay
Set Sol's relationship type to polyamorous (I usually just date Marz and Rex simultaneously then break up with them).
The year after Dys blows the colony and runs (which will be the next month, if he blows the wall during Glow!) Dys will be a boss event in the Wresting Ridges. This dialogue tree is usually where you either convince him to return to the colony, or help him upload to the array.
What should happen is, Sym will "accidentally" (on purpose) call Dys 'beloved' or similar, and Dys will confirm he and Sym are dating. Then you'll get to talk to Sym or Dys individually (you can go back and forth as many times as you like).
Normally, you would have to ask Sym to send Dys home with you. However, because the game remembers you flirted with Dys but didn't date him, you will have a romantic dialogue option to ask Dys to return to the colony with you as well.
Following this tree will establish that Sym is okay with sharing, and you can then take Dys back to the colony.
After this point, you can also start dating Sym.
Alternatively, if you bring Dys home the usual way, then do his 100-friendship event, you can start dating him and Sym after he returns to the colony. However, you'll miss out on all the fun dialogue in the Wresting Ridges event!!
@dearophelia replied to your post “Once I get the current hyperfixation written down...”:
So if you were to recommend *the* Chenford episodes, what would they be?
Okay, so forgive me because this is actually going to be a THING. So I'll give you the ep and why I think it's important. (Also, this would be a different list if you asked for pivotal Lucy and/or Tim eps as well, so I can do that too, iffen you want.) 😉
1.01 Pilot - Because you meet all the key players, including Chenford. And this ep, especially, does a great job of laying the groundwork for Tim as we meet him.
1.06 The Hawke - This one isn't necessary, but it's a good bonus! There's a great Chenford moment in this that does a nice job of illustrating how Tim and Lucy are progressing.
1.11 Redwood - There's a terrific Chenford moment in this ep that will be called back later, and is also the source of a lot of fandom/fanfic callbacks. It's great.
1.14 Plain Clothes Day - So much awesome Chenford groundwork in this ep. And, if it's the third ep you watch, it's a great check in for where they are vs where they started, because now we're about 2/3 of the way through the intro season.
1.19 The Checklist - Lucy and Tim are really a TEAM in this ep, and it's awesome.
1.20 Freefall - The first real elements of shippiness have arrived!
2.01 Impact - The continuation of 1.20.
2.06 Fallout - Tim and Lucy + mortal peril. I mean, it's good stuff. It's also just a bonus ep, not crucial for getting a good feel for the ship.
2.10 The Dark Side - this is the setup for a critical Chenford ep...
2.11 Day of Death - one of the most critical Chenford episodes. This is serious business.
2.13 Follow-up Day - This is the first time Chenford makes a major life decision because of the other one.
3.07 True Crime - I'm calling this a bonus ep because while it has some awesome Chenford banter, it's not critical to their story.
3.11 New Blood - Lucy's jealous and it's adorable.
3.14 Threshold - This ep includes a pivotal Chenford moment and contains the look that might very well have launched a thousand ships.
4.01 Life and Death - the continuation of 3.14 and includes another pivotal Chenford scene.
4.09 Breakdown - this is a crucial Tim episode made sweeter by some Lucy jealousy. She's finally recognizing she's got feelings.
4.12 The Knock - Hands down, some of the best Chenford scenes.
4.16 Real Crime - Another bonus because great Chenford banter but not crucial.
4.21 Mother's Day - The setup for the season finale, in so, so many ways. And some real great Chenford details heading into the next ep.
4.22 Day in the Hole - there are two storylines. You don't need the Nolan one at all unless you want it. The Chenford storyline is a real hoot and the ship setting sail. This is one to definitely not skip!
All that said, nearly all the eps have Chenford gems, so hopefully, if you're into it, you'll get around to them all! Also, there are some episodes that do character building for Lucy or Tim that I didn't include, that end up being paramount for their overall Chenford story, but don't really affect the general gist of the 'ship-story. But I'm happy to add them in if you're interested!
@dearophelia - SARA, HI! :) Hope this makes you giggle!
I can't believe this all began out of a silly post about ice cream...
BUT CALEB & KAIDAN'S MOOSE IS NOW A THING!
After the war...
It revives with Abby. Because, of course, it does.
That first Christmas after the war, when Shepard is still recovering, before anything is really 'settled' between him and Kaidan (I mean, seriously, we're talking like 4 months after the war; he's barely been awake for two of them) it begins with a mug. No one knows where she gets it and Abby, true to form, isn't telling. ;) Just a thing to cheer the bed-ridden Shepard, still healing after yet another surgery, to up and remind him that MOOSE are a THING (who knew?), especially in the Canadian wilds. (Or, Kaidanadian, as she tells them; Coats just stands off to the side equally proud of her for saying that with a straight face, and hiding the fact he wants to laugh his ass off.
He pointedly ignores the glare Caleb sends his way.)
The next year, come holiday time, Niamh, all of nearly six-years-old, goes tearing through the house (Kaidan happens to be home at the time), dragging poor Big Mr. Teddy behind her with one hand, free arm wrapped around a package the postal carrier just dropped off. She runs into the kitchen - smack into Kaidan's knees (ouch!) - heaves Big Mr. Teddy into Papa's chair at the table (he isn't using it since he's standing)(6-year-old logic FTW!) and then sets the box on the table asking Daidi if she can open it. Caleb checks the label - it's to him from an unknown address but the postal stamp is Rio. He has Kaidan scan it just to be safe (Kaidan snickers, but clears it) - then loosens the tape so Niamh has an easier time with it. Out of the wrappings comes...
Squooshy Moose! (a plush I intend to knit as soon as I find my brown yarns) Caleb groans. Kaidan laughs. Niamh squeals in delight, tucks "Mooses (like Mrs. but with an o) Squoosh" beneath her arm and then drags Big Mr. Teddy behind her, heading off to find Tadhg to introduce him to the newest member of their family and wondering aloud whether Mooses Squoosh likes spicy noodles like big brother Grunt.
(Kaidan is still laughing even as Caleb sends Abby a strongly worded message...)
And, so it keeps going. Over time, a collection of mugs, plushies, Christmas tree ornaments, sweaters (even one with Christmas tree lights wrapped around the moose's antlers - Kaidan isn't as original with his ideas as he thinks he is! ;) (from this fic here)), a chess set (Traynor shows up unexpectedly one year...), a baseball cap with antlers, etc...
When the kids get old enough to understand a bit better, they get involved too. Abby convinces Coats and some of the other former Normandy crew to participate. Hell, one year she has one of the N-classes currently in session all get together to take a photo to send Shepard of them forming the shape of a moose's head, complete with antlers). After Tadhg heads off to the academy at eighteen, the moose migrate (migratory moose?) into his room. Or, maybe they replicate like rabbits. *shrug*
And to this day, it's still 'a thing.'.. A think that all began with some ice cream during the war with the reapers... (this prompt started it all)
👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?
VERY VERY CONSISTENT PANTSER.
Any time I have attempted to plan at all, even to the extent of a stream of consciousness brain-dump feels list that could by no stretch of the imagination be compared to an outline, I have not written the thing. I cannot even plants or it dies.
This is very frustrating when I lose momentum in the middle and don't know how to keep going, and part of why I have only once ever finished something remotely novel/long-fic sized.
(I don't even read much Libba Bray, and this is from like 8 or 9 years ago, but it is the most #gpoy writing melt-down I have ever seen and thus I reference it a lot.)
🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).
I dunno, I got nothing, that's why I'm doing the meme thing, to try and remind myself 🤣
I'm debating signing up for SH Bingo though? Last session I bombed completely, but the one before that pushed me to write some good shit I probably wouldn't have managed otherwise. (I've also got a list of old Yuletide prompts I want to try and Treat, but... neither of those are things I've done yet, so they don't count.)
Oh man, so based on the first document associated with this, you sent me this prompt in 2017. So uh. Apologies for the delay :P
truth so loud you can’t ignore
Merrill and Esther are feeling out what being in a relationship means. This ends up being a much different conversation than Merrill was expecting.
Esther Hawke/Merrill, G, ~1100 words
It’s two weeks after their first kiss - the one Merrill initiated - when Merrill realizes that Esther doesn’t know how to do this. They’re in Merrill’s tiny house, just the two of them, curled up on the bed and talking. The air’s cold, a frosty Firstfall day, but there’s a fire in the hearth and they’re curled up under the bright patchwork quilt that’s one of the few things Merrill still has from her birth clan.
But Esther, bright and loud and ever-moving, is holding herself very stiffly, propped against the wall. Every time Merrill asks if she’s okay, she smiles and says yes, of course, this is wonderful, but it niggles at Merrill’s thoughts until she can’t take it anymore.
“You’ve been with lots of people,” she says, not a question, “like Isabela.” Her hands twist together of their own accord, a habit she sometimes wishes she could stop. She keeps her eyes pointed at Esther’s chin, enough to see her reaction but not so much that she has to look her in the eye. Still, whatever words she was going to say next fly out of her head.
Esther’s eyes narrow, in what Merrill thinks is confusion. Or maybe uncertainty. “I’ve, uh, slept with lots of people.” Her voice is thin, brittle, unusual, like she’s afraid of what she’s saying. “But I’ve never done…this before.” Her hands don’t twist together like Merrill’s do, but instead pluck at the patchwork blanket, running along the seams. They’re calloused in a familiar pattern, from holding a staff, but without the myriad of scars that litter Merrill’s own.
She wants to reach out and hold them. Maybe they’d both be less frightened. But she doesn’t, not yet. “Never done what, exactly?” There’s an idea, worming its way into her head, but she doesn’t want to push. Whatever it is, she’s probably wrong.
A blush creeps across Esther’s cheeks - unusual indeed. “I, uh.” The quilt flashes between her fingers, faded pink and yellow and green. “I don’t just want to sleep with you. I mean -” she chuckles, sounds a little more like herself for a moment - “I do want to. But not just to sleep with you. And I’ve never really…felt like this, before?” She doesn’t look at Merrill, looks anywhere else - at the broken mirror shard on the table, the small shelf of books, the fire. “I don’t know how to want this. How to do this.”
The words float in the icy air. Merrill’s heart flips over, confusion and compassion and whatever her feelings are for Esther all tangled up. “Never?” Even when she had thought it might be something like inexperience - something Esther is loath to ever admit to - she’d never expected never.
The next laugh that pops out of Esther is hollow, bitter, unlike her. “You’ve found a thing I’ve never done. Good for you! Now just like everyone else, you can tell me I’m broken.” Another laugh. “Magic. This. It’s always something.” Her voice is loud and searing, mean and cutting, and Merrill’s instinctive reaction is to run away. There’s that inability to deal with inexperience.
She’s not going to run away. Esther’s hands are still picking at the seams of the blanket, so instead of going to hold one, she lays hers down next to them. Small, tawny-brown next to Esther’s larger, olive-gold ones. “You’re not broken,” she says. She can’t find anything else to say, no matter how much she wants to.
There’s no reply, but Esther’s hands still on the blanket after a few minutes. She doesn’t apologize for yelling at Merrill, doesn’t reach out to hold Merrill’s hand, but eventually she looks up. If Esther were the type of person to cry, Merrill would expect her to be crying right now, but she’s not. “Have you?”
It takes Merrill some time to parse out what the question’s asking, but then she nods. “A few times. Once at Arlathvhen, when I was fourteen - there was a girl from another clan. She had the most beautiful hair.” Her voice is rueful, and she reaches up to tug on her short braids.
“Your hair’s beautiful,” Esther interrupts. Her direct, intense stare is hard enough when it’s not directed at Merrill, but with the full force of it, Merrill feels like she might be swept away.
“Oh!” Now it’s Merrill’s turn to blush, and she tugs at the braids again. They’re starting to look a little raggedy, and she’ll have to redo them soon. They definitely don’t feel beautiful, especially not in the sense of how she remembers that girl from the last Arlathvhen. “Well, I don’t really know, they’re falling apart now anyways, and I’ll have to take so much time to put them back in - wait, I’m babbling again, I’m sorry. Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” Her hands are twisted in her lap again. She pulls them apart.
“You’re welcome.” Esther’s voice is a little lighter, a little less fraught.
Plowing ahead, Merrill continues. “She was from another clan, obviously, or I’d have met her before - not that Arlathvhen is the only time we meet other clans, obviously, that would be quite silly, it’s just the largest - sorry, where was I again?”
This laugh isn’t as bright or booming as normal, but it’s not hollow, bitter, broken. And it’s kind, laughing with, not laughing at. “The girl?”
“Oh, right!” Merrill giggles too. “She was just so beautiful. And older than me, too. I followed her around like a lost puppy, that’s what I did.”
“Dalish have lost puppies?” Her tone is teasing. Now she does slip her hand into Merrill’s, and Merrill feels her heart soar.
“Not really! Especially not mabari - I’d never seen one until yours. That’s a saying I picked up from Varric, I think.” She leans over to rest her head on Esther’s shoulder. “Anyways. I tried to talk to that girl - Mihris was her name - but I was just so awkward, I don’t think she ever really understood me.”
With another laugh, almost normal, Esther presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Do I understand you?” she asks, playful.
Merrill nods, vigorously. “More than most.” She squeezes Esther’s hand, wriggling closer under the blanket. “It doesn’t matter to me what you haven’t done. We’re figuring out lots of things already. We can figure out more.”
They lapse into silence, the only sounds the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the wind rattling the door. It’s quiet, and just warm enough, and Merrill finds herself drifting off to sleep in Esther’s arms. But there’s a rustle in her hair, like Esther’s whispering something, and she strains her ears to hear.
“Thank you,” Esther says, and Merrill’s wide awake again.
“Of course,” she says, shifting to her left so she can face Esther more head-on. “Absolutely.”
