#and it's like fearne Knows without Knowing because she feels all too well about being Fine and Smiling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaos-burst · 3 years

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direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this... how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.

#doriax #critfic #exu fic #critical role #dariax zaveon #dorian storm #exandria unlimited #exu #fanfiction #screeching into the void #text #this has an M rating on ao3 jsyk #we have ~9k of practice kissing/college au magical realism here my guys #dorian #dariax

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poesparakeet-fics · 2 years

Text

Deals with Fey

Fandom: Critical Role C3

Characters: Orym of the Air Ashari, Fearne Calloway

WC: 700ish

Summary: Just a short, cuddly little thing to crack the egg that is C3 for Critickle role fic! (Tickle Fic) Who knew it could get so cold in the desert?

To be fair, Orym wasn't sure the whole desert was like this. The city certainly hadn't been, but that could have been all types of magic. Here in the low, rocky mountains where they were searching for one particular cavern among hundreds, though, the air was sharp and chill.

It's why he was glad to be curled beneath Fearn's thick mink cloak, nestled against the curve of her softly furred lap and stomach.Either because she was fey or because she was Fearne, she hadn't even asked before scooping him in with her. It took a full minute for his shivers to subside.

"Thanks." He sighed when she ducked her head underneath the covers to join him.

"Oh, it's no problem. You fit so nicely. I always worry that you little ones will freeze right through in this weather, and you're a much better cuddle buddy than Letters is."

She folded her arms over him, so he rubbed his hands across her skin so they could both warm up. "Yeah, I imagine they’re pretty cold."

"Mhmm…" Fearne sighed, hugging him tighter, "there is that. But also…"

Orym choked on a startled giggle that he mercilessly smothered with one hand as Fearne hugged his shins to her chest and started to tickle his feet with nails as hard as hooves.

"Fearne!" He tried to yell enough to get his ire across but whisper enough not to alert the others. "Don't-- ha!-- don't you dare--"

Fearne just snorted at him. "Oh, I think I do dare. Tickle tickle Orym…"

He didn't get a chance to reply thanks to a concentrated attack on the ball of one foot that sent him into a fit he had to use all his strength to smother, his back arching into Fearn's thigh. Which was the point, of course. This was Fearne's special little game, ever since the first time she'd playfully picked him up under his armpits and he'd squealed. She would creep up on him in his quiet, pensive moments in a dark little corner away from the others and tickle him to pieces while he fought to stay quiet, sure that his chaotic friends would find endless amusement in sending him into hysterics. They were only mortal after all, and as Fearne liked to remind him, halfling giggles were irresistible.

Fearn hadn't played her game since this new group had formed. At least Dariax wasn't with them anymore. Orym had a feeling he could take Dorian, but shuddered at the thought of Laudna's long nails. The thought of being tickled in front of a mind reader? Unconscionable.

So he kept his hands clapped hard over his mouth and wriggled like a fish in Fearne's embrace, unable to do much else without exposing himself to the terrible cold outside their cocoon.

He endured that way for about a minute, until her fingers found his toes and he cried, muffled, into his arm "Mean! You're so-- so m--eeheeheehee-ean!"

"Aw." Fearne pouted sympathetically, "Is my little buddy too ticklish? Do you want me to stop tickling your toes?"

"Yes!" Orym cried, still muffled, tears of laughter springing to his eyes. (And a blush springing to his cheeks at the stray thought of Imogen calling out how he really felt about Fearne's little game. Unconscionable.)

"Well..." Fearne spoke softly and calmly, her voice like satin, "maybe if you tell me something about yourself that's it your name and the fact that you're from the air Ashari, I can stop tickling your feet. We're friends, I want to know more about you."

That's it? "OK!" Orym giggled, "OK! Fearne, please!"

She stopped, but didn't move her fingers one inch.

"Well?"

Orym gulped in a couple of breaths, then paused for a panicked moment as he tried to remember a single fact about himself.

"M-my mother's name was Calista and my Father's was Eutar?"

"Oh, that's very good," Fearn soothed, letting go of her grip on his ankles, "See? Sharing is good."

Orym was about to agree when her arms stretched to claw playfully at his ribcage and he was cackling into his sleeve again. The new shot of adrenaline made him spot his mistake immediately.

"Oh Orym," Fearne teased as she tickled him silly, without once touching his feet, "hasn't anyone ever taught you that you shouldn't make deals with the fey?"

#orym of the air ashari #fearne calloway #Critickle Role #C3 #TK fic #Tickle fic #tickling

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saphirered · 2 years

Note

Oh. OH! Okay. I remembered my request, in case it's been yeeted into the void. I don't remember how it was worded, but I know the gist: Fearne x Reader. Fearne is falling in love with Reader. Fearne's confused because she doesn't really know much about love, and is being very soft and straight-forward. If she thinks something about the Reader, she'll say it, no matter where they are, who is around them, or what they're doing.

This turned into headcanons for some reason. Blame my brain. Hope you like it and sorry for the wait! 😘

(Fearne)

A strong bias in your favour has been something clear to Fearne from the beginning, though she always blamed it on the feeling accompanied with it; you’re like the trinkets she steals. You’re unique in your own way, precious, to be cherished and cared for. You deserve good things in life and whenever life deals you a shitty hand, Fearne finds herself try to sleight of hand those cards to better ones for you because nothing shines brighter than gold than you being happy. She supposes she would do the same for the others… to an extend but for you it’s always felt different. She can’t quite place it and she can’t very well ask her grandmother for advise.

Pieces started falling into place when she got knocked off her feet and you were the first to offer her a hand up. When she took it, the smooth of your skin felt so soft and the way the light hit behind you, it looked like you were glowing, she just had to say something and she didn’t even get the urge of stealing those trinkets you collected after the fight! The others looked at her strangely when she in very roundabout turns tried to tell you you looked pretty. The others might have chuckled but you just told her thank you and it was cute. Her chest felt all warm and fuzzy but not the kind of fuzzy like her ears.

Determined to get to the bottom of this fuzzy feeling she keeps getting every time you smile at her, tell her something nice or compliment her, Fearne tried to get into places of study but found no allowance for ‘non-students’ so she managed to steal a couple of books from around town. Not like anyone would miss them and even if they did, she needed them more! Maybe she’ll bring them back after the’s done? Who’s she kidding? She isn’t going to return those.

Warm cheeks, fever spikes, ache in the chest, tingling fingers, sensitivity, feelings. The medical books didn’t help very much. She’s not sick. But then she overheard someone talking about those symptoms she’s experiencing, something about a story. So she picked up the story, in her defence it was left unattended so how could she not have taken it? The story did reveal some things. Most of it was complete and utter nonsense. Who writes about a dragon turtle looking for its lover among a cult island anyway? But some things were pretty helpful.

That feeling to spend time with you, cherish you, do everything she can to make you happy; that’s affection. Those burning cheeks of hers and queasiness when you say something nice or smile at her; that’s a crush. That and the realisation that her life would be a whole lot more bleak without you in it; that’s something more. Is this what love feels like? And so Fearne keeps consulting that trashy romance novel with a decent amount of strangely specific smut to gain more clarity.

And the more she reads, the more she sees. It’s not like this is the one-sided affections like the dragon turtle (who’s a dick), but instead like the captain you blush too when his lover compliments her. And the book does describe the captain feeling ‘their heart melting in a burst of love’ so maybe you feel the same? She does hope your heart is not actually bursting though, because if so maybe it’s good she still has that book about medicine somewhere. Fearne decides she’ll just let it all out. Every time something comes up in her head she’ll just say it. You look pretty? She’ll tell you exactly how pretty you do, in detail, nothing left to the imagination. Do something badass or nice? She’ll be your hype woman. Someone bothering you? She’ll show them exactly how they deal with that in the Feywild.

The others have begun noticing and may have commented at first, to laughed, and they still do but Fearne’s proclamations are no longer brought in question itself. She thinks maybe she’s not so inconspicuous but why should she be? She likes you. You like her but how much? One way to find out; keep doing what the book does. Wait, how long does this book take place over? She doesn’t have the patience for that!

So Fearne, like all the compliments and little expressions of affection, blurts it out in a declaration of love; “You’re great and I think you’re lovely so how could I not be in love with you.” And so the world stops turning for a hot second, it’s almost like she’s stuck in the Feywild time warp in those moments but she knows she’s not because everyone goes silent and all eyes turn to you and her. Fearne’s heart sinks just a little when you don’t say anything but just look flabbergasted.

But then her worries die down when a red dusting forms on your cheeks, and your take a deep breath. That glimmering smile returns and you tell her the feeling is very much mutual. Fearne goes into a rambling about how the book about the sapphire lady and her captain lover goes on after the confession and it’s more of her asking the question if that’s what she has to go through because she doesn’t think she has it in her to form a cult but a flaming volcano sounds pretty fun so if you’re game so is she.

You suggest starting with a more simple date first. Dinner and some ‘window shopping’ sounds pretty neat and it’s right then Fearne truly feels it’s meant to be. Window shopping it is. And that’s just one date of the many to follow. You got plenty of plans, plenty of adventures to be had, and plenty of time to spend together and watch this thing between you two bloom into something beautiful.

#critical role x reader #campaign 3 x reader #fearne x reader #fearne calloway x reader #critrole x reader #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #critical role #fearne calloway #bells hells

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mollymauk-teafleak · 2 years

Text

I can't believe what I've found (chapter four)

I cannot apologise for how late this chapter is, work's been a nightmare lately and I just haven't had writing in me. But I have two incredible beta readers who keep me going, thank you @nb-fearne and @minky-for-short!

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment over on Ao3!

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The release day for Caleb's book is set and, honestly, he feels like he's falling apart.

Until he realises he isn't the only one.

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“Caleb? Everything okay there?”

Caleb jumped with the guilt of a student caught on his phone in the middle of class. And with good reason, seeing as he was a grown man who’d been caught on his phone in the middle of a meeting with the head of the company who published his books.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shoving his phone in one of his deepest pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted, “I’m listening. I promise.”

But the guilt eased slightly when Percy just smiled. Because he wasn’t just the head of the publishing company, after all. He was one of Caleb’s oldest friends, his ex boyfriend, the only person still in his life who’d known him before. He wouldn’t tell him off, not really, but Caleb felt bad all the same.

“Is it Mollymauk?” Percy hummed, attempting a casual air but there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Caleb felt his cheeks warm up, hoping he could blame it on Percy’s office having the heating cranked up. Which it did, for the benefit of the two tiny quarter elf girls currently napping, Joey in her father’s arms and Lainey in Caleb’s. Another reason he should be keeping his eyes off his phone.

“Yes,” he mumbled, “He texts me if he has an idea for the book out of hours.”

“Very helpful,” Percy’s tone was still light and conversational, he pretended to be more focused on the papers spread across his desk but he was losing the fight to that bemused smirk, “Does he, ah, text you often?”

Caleb squirmed, “Well. No, because we’re usually working together so…what’s that look for?”

“What look?” Percy hummed innocently, shifting his daughter carefully in his arms so he could reach over and type some things from the papers into some spreadsheet probably. There was absolutely a look on his face.

“Did you ask me here just to see your daughters and for you to smirk?” Caleb sighed, deciding he needed to steer away from this conversation.

“Only partially,” Percy flashed him a smile, shifting Joey so she settled against his shoulder as she began to grizzle softly, “I do have actual business reason for bringing you all the way down here and then all the way up here.”

Caleb had expected as much. Percy rarely asked him up into the offices, knowing both that his friend attracted a lot of attention in the de Rolo building and that he could just drop by the apartment if he had something he needed to say. But he’d woken up to a day where Mollymauk was busy with a technical rehearsal at the theatre and a message from Percy asking if he was free for a meeting early in the afternoon which, of course, Caleb was. By the time he had his slippers on, a notification came up saying it had been scheduled, Percy’s secretary being ruthlessly efficient as always. She’d have to be, the de Rolo Company ran about fifteen different businesses at once and the man himself would, at this hour, either be putting a clock back together or changing diapers or possibly both.

Caleb was glad to have something to do with his afternoon. Without Mollymauk, his apartment felt strangely empty, more than a little too quiet. He’d eaten breakfast, not noticing how much easier that action was than it had seemed a few months before, he’d tried to make himself write for the few hours he had before needing to go but it just hadn’t felt right. He’d left his laptop with a few fitful lines he’d likely delete when he returned, unable to get in the right headspace in this suddenly silent place, suddenly alone when he hadn’t noticed before. Almost like he’d been afraid to.

So he was glad to be sitting across from his friend, in Percy’s warm, bright office with it’s huge windows to look out over the city and it’s cute babies who’d snuggle into him to sleep and snore adorably. He was just glad to be around people.

It was rather strange.

Caleb used his free hand to take a quick sip of the mug of coffee Percy had handed him as soon as he’d walked in, “Yeah?”

“I thought with you and Molly working so well through the art of the book, we could firm up a release date,” Percy hummed.

And just like that, Caleb’s stomach knotted. His fingertips felt numb and he had the unpleasant sensation of weightlessness as a deep terror took hold, a wrenching, desperate sense of no, I don’t want this. In an instant, he was free falling.

“A release date?” he croaked, his voice sounding to him like it came from too far away.

Percy was fortunately too preoccupied with the fact that his little daughter had just burped in his ear at the same moment, pulling a funny face at her before continuing without realisation of Caleb’s distress, “Molly’s making fantastic progress, he’s ready to move on to just doing the full, finished pages and of course the text is ready to go. You’re only a little ways off having a fully fledged book which means we can get it out there.”

Caleb swallowed hard, still trying to find a way to stop himself spiralling, making himself nod.

As usual, what exactly was upsetting him so much was a tangled mix of things he already didn’t want to think about, sorting it out was like trying to tease out strands of barbed wire. The idea of having such a personal piece of him sent out into the world for criticism and scrutiny, the final complete answer as to whether he’d been right to do this or not, the questions that would then be left- where did he go after it was done? Would it actually help? What was left for him if it didn't?

And, undeniable and as confusing as the rest, the idea that Mollymauk would no longer have a concrete, contractual reason to be in his life. And that thought was terrifying.

He hugged Lainey closer to his chest, making sure it wasn’t tight enough to hurt, as though his body thought she must be in freefall too and he had to keep her close as they spiralled together.

“So maybe tomorrow when you’re back into it, ask him for a generous estimate on how long the final drafts might take, we’ll factor in the time to get them approved and printed and we’ll pick a date around then,” Percy finally glanced over, his brow instantly creasing, “Caleb? Is everything alright?”

“Of course,” Caleb answered too quickly, too loudly and to a man who knew him far too well to believe it.

Percy stood, making his daughter squeak at the sudden movement, coming around to Caleb’s side of the desk. He perched against it, offering Caleb his hand, “Hey?”

Some part of Caleb still wanted to stay tight and close within himself, terrified of bringing anyone else into this storm he was only barely keeping contained. But that part was overshadowed by the same strong if unfamiliar drive that had gotten him out of the apartment that morning, this new need to be around other people. So he took Percy’s hand.

Percy’s fingers were rough and calloused, betraying the life he’d lived before he’d worn expensive suits and sat in such an expansive office with a creche in one corner for when his husband had a dance class. But they were familiar and held firm, making Caleb think of stressful nights before exams and homesickness hitting in the middle of the night, times when that firm grip, bridging the distance between their dorm beds, had been what held him fast.

“We can push it back if you need to,” Percy bounced Joey lightly, though his focus was on Caleb, “Whatever is best for your mental health, nothing we’ve done so far can’t be paused or even overturned, it’s never too late. But…if you want my opinion?”

Caleb knew he was asking so he nodded, putting the tight, stabilising grip he needed onto Percy’s hand rather than the squishy baby tucked into his other arm.

“I know this will be hard for you,” his friend’s voice lowered, giving no complaint to the tight grip on his hand, “But what you’ll put out into the world is so important. And I really do fully believe that it will be worth it.”

Caleb bit his lip and nodded again, surprising himself with how much he believed it, how sincere his agreement actually was. It would be hard but it would be worth it.

And through the fog of it all, Jester’s words came back to him. Just after the book comes out.

Maybe the end of their professional relationship wasn’t something to be scared of. Maybe it would make room for something else.

Percy’s voice had grown hopeful and a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth, “What’s that face? I don’t know that one so well.”

The shakes and strange cold feeling in his fingers had begun to ebb while he was focused on holding Percy’s hand, he just hadn’t noticed. The breath Caleb took was easier that he’d expected and he even managed to smile. He’d hit the crest of one wave, now ready for it to set him back down and move away. Another one would come, of course, they always did. But he’d weathered this one, at least.

Willingly leaving his apartment. Wanting to see people. Believing Percy when he told him it would be hard but worth it. Having hope for the future.

“It’s been a very strange day so far,” Caleb admitted, smiling wryly.

There was nothing like releasing a new book to make you feel like a bad writer. Putting words on a page became the least of your priorities.

Caleb knew that which was why he’d never had one of his mystery novels ready to go without starting work on another one. It wasn’t exactly hard, he just had to dive into the rolodex of nightmares he always kept at the back of his mind and pluck out something he felt he could build a plot around. By the time Percy was sending him congratulation emails, Veth was sending back outlines for Caleb’s next novel.

So, unable to bear being without a task, Caleb had been trying to work on something light while Molly did his part for the picture book. Just a simple 800 pager, smallest trim size, mass produced to be kept in a jacket pocket on a long flight or a quick lunch in the park. He’d been thinking something more psychological, something about having a recurring dream leech into the main character’s waking life until there was no escape. Something dark and deeply unsettling, something that crawled under the skin.

Something he knew what it actually felt like to live in. Easy peasy.

But trying was the operative word. Not for the first time, when he came back from his meeting with Percy, he sat in front of his laptop with a mug of coffee and reflected miserably that everything he’d written was complete shit. So shit, nonsensical and forced and meandering, that he wanted to just delete the whole lot of it and throw his laptop in a volcano.

He idly scratched Frumpkin behind the ears as the panic began to build. For Caleb, writer’s block wasn’t just writer’s block, the way that so many things that should be simple weren’t simple for him. It wasn’t just writer’s block, it was a flock of panicked questions. What if he could never write another word? What if he’d peaked? How would he pay his bills now he was a washed up hack of an author? Would the sales from the other books be enough to keep the lights on? And now how was he supposed to release the tap on all the bile and darkness that lived inside him, would it just build and build until he broke again?

Who would he hurt this time?

Caleb dragged both his hands across his face. Spiralling twice in one day. And he’d thought he was doing so much better lately.

Frumpkin made a lilting noise, his pink noise pointed up at his master and his eyes blinking curiously as if wondering what was upsetting him.

“I wish I knew,” Caleb sighed, untangling one hand from his hair and going back to gently stroking his cat’s ears, hoping it would soothe him the way it always had since he was young, “It’s okay. Tomorrow will be easier. It will.”

Frumpkin flicked his tail and blinked slowly.

Caleb frowned, “No. Not because Mollymauk will be here. Why would you say that?”

The cat trilled sharply.

“I…I know you didn’t say it exactly. You know what I mean. Shut up. It’s not because of that anyway, I don’t need Mollymauk to write. I just…I’m not trying hard enough.”

Frumpkin huffed, settling his head on crossed paws and closing his eyes.

Caleb’s frown deepened and his coffee tasted suddenly sour on his tongue. He dragged his laptop closer, trying to convince himself that the sudden adrenaline spiking through his nerves and sickening his stomach was inspiration and not panic. He just wasn’t trying hard enough. That was all.

It was a little like tightrope walking or pruning a bush with poisonous thorns or tiptoeing around a slumbering lion that would wake at the slightest footfall and lash out with a knife-filled paw. In any case, something that required such careful, cautious treading at risk of painful disaster.

Third person, always third person, that cognitive dissonance was his balance beam or his gardening gloves or his lion tamer's whip, whatever metaphor he was using at the time. It wasn’t him living these horrors, it was a crash test dummy he’d hung a flimsy costume on, given a fake name and a story that went on beyond page one but could be brutally ended by page 800 without him feeling bad. It was all happening to a protagonist, someone relatable and redeemable and you could root for. And that certainly wasn’t Caleb Widogast.

He could take parts of his own story and make them someone else's and when it was safely stitched into that other narrative, he could sit back and pretend he didn’t recognise it. He could but sometimes it was so, so delicate.

But the afternoon was winding down and if he went another day without significant progress on this thing, he was going to be in danger of scraping up against deadlines. Not by anyone else’s metrics, of course, but he’d never been even remotely late on anything before. There was the date on his contract and then there was the date two weeks earlier he set in his own head, in the infuriating way he did. Veth would never mind, Percy would never mind but it would still feel like he’d failed.

So Caleb just needed to write. He needed words on the page and he couldn’t care too much about where they came from. He took a long swig of his coffee, thinking vaguely how it wasn’t nearly as good as at Cad’s cafe, and made himself sit up. Write. Just write. Stop being bad at the only thing you know how to do.

His hapless protagonist had just bolted up in bed, dragging himself out of a nightmare to enjoy a few moments of blessed relief before he realised it had followed him into the waking world. Easy enough. Caleb’s fingers began hammering on the keys, picking up from where he left off last and trying not to think about how much he hated the words before it. He sketched it out vaguely, grounded it loosely in a place, before filling it in. Rather like Mollymauk did with his art, he supposed. Pencil then watercolour, bringing it to life. Though he didn’t have much hope that this would be as beautiful.

His breaths were raw and painful in his chest but he was glad of them. It was his reminder that he was alive and, more importantly, he was awake. Pain was never so sharp like this in a dream and that was all he needed to know.

Frumpkin lifted his head again, maybe looking for petting, maybe sensing something that worried him. But Caleb’s eyes didn’t even flicker down to him, locked on the screen, finally slipping into that trance he’d been striving for. Whether it would produce anything worthwhile was another matter but he could at least feel productive.

So Aaron held as still as he could, eyes screwed shut, and counted his own painful breaths, trying not to let the dark room around him into his mind just yet. For now, just the drag and scrape in his throat and the burn in his chest. Deal with that and then let the rest of the world in.

Finally he felt ready to open his eyes. And wished to the gods that he hadn’t.

There was fire burning at the bottom of his walls.

Caleb’s fingers slipped off the keys like they were suddenly repelling his touch. Fire. Where had that come from? Over ten books now and he’d never once…

It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. Whatever was working, he had to cling to it with both hands.

As if they had been waiting on his notice, the flames began to climb the walls, devouring the cheap motel paper and thin plaster. They roared, louder than Aaron could have believed, louder than he’d ever thought one sound could be. His nerves screamed in answer, panic tearing through them. One thought, babbled so frantically it overlapped on itself into a cacophony. Get out!

Caleb swallowed hard. He needed another gulp of coffee but his hands didn’t seem to want to stop. It was getting warmer in his apartment, oppressively so. He’d turn down the heat when he took a break, if he took a break.

He ran to the door, nearly losing his feet in his panic but managing to keep them enough to slam into it, hoping against hope. But of course it was locked and now he was just closer to the flames, enough to feel their heat. Not even touching them and it hurt, it was too much. But there was no escape, no way out. The flames grew as they fed, sucking the air from his lungs, a painful, all consuming greed.

Careful, a voice in the back of his head warned him, too quiet to break into the story. Careful, Frumpkin’s large, round eyes warned him but he was out of his master’s view.

No escape. But still he fought, unable to accept his death but unable to stop it. He knew if he turned around, he’d see the entire room behind him overtaken by the fire. The whole world would be nothing more than the fire, nothing else left. He was the last thing left to be eaten and burned away to nothing and all he could do was listen to it come, too scared to look.

And he deserved it. It was his turn.

“Caleb?”

The voice was so sudden, so unfamiliar, it was the shove he needed to pull him out. With a strangled cry, he shoved his laptop back, almost enough to send it off his writing desk. But a hand caught it, closed it with a firm, definitive snap. A twin to that hand, differently decorated, went to rest against Caleb’s head but froze.

“Caleb, is it okay if I touch you?”

He forced the nod he wanted to make through his seizing muscles. That hand came to cradle the back of his head, a gentle, steady presence against his tremors. The other reached down and took one of his hands, threading cool, adorned fingers through his own.

“Easy, Caleb. You’re okay. Everything’s okay, I promise.”

“Mollymauk?”

“That’s right,” the watercolours finally filled in the sketches and he was aware of his friend kneeling by him, eyes wide and worried, “Just breathe, okay? That’s all you need to do right now.”

Happy to have the decision taken out of his hands, he just did as he was prompted, filling his lungs and letting it go until he believed that there would always be another. He felt Mollymauk’s grip on him, grounding, not easing at all even when he felt in control again, waiting for his permission. Caleb brought his hand up to his face, finding his cheeks soaked. He hadn’t realised he’d started crying.

“There you go,” Molly finally let go to rub circles between his shoulder blades, “Well done, Caleb.”

His voice was thin, quaking when he finally got it past his teeth, “We really…we really need to stop meeting like this.”

Molly paused for just a moment before he started wheezing, that raspy, cackle of a laugh Caleb had grown to love so much, “Gods…”

Caleb smiled weakly, reaching for his coffee but thinking better of it, making himself ask, “Could you get me a glass of water, please?”

“Of course! Of course,” Molly dashed off, heeled boots clicking on the bare floors, coaxing a glass of water out of Caleb’s creaking pipes to bring back to him.

Heart still hammering, mind still wavering unsteadily, Caleb found himself noticing how Molly was dressed more feminine today, a flowing skirt of airy sage green chiffon and a drooping white sweater. He looked good. He looked really good. Caleb was suddenly glad of the water in his hands to focus him, swallowing hard and willing the cold of it to cool the burn rising in his cheeks.

“I’m sorry, I just let myself in when I heard Frumpkin miaowing,” Mollymauk perched on the edge of the writing desk, concern still in his gaze, “Though I’m pretty glad I did, considering.”

“Me too,” Caleb admitted, feeling Frumpkin’s forepaws pressing instantly against his leg so bending down to scoop him back into his lap, “What are you even doing at the door? I thought it was tech week?”

Molly gave him a soft smile that somehow wasn’t pitying, pointing out of the window, “It’s gotten late without you realising, I think.”

Ah. The only thing he could see out there was the orange squares of the windows and the dirty smudge of light pollution across the new night sky. He’d lost track of time again.

His face must have been a picture because Molly chuckled, “I just thought I’d drop in on the way home. Again. Pretty glad I did now.”

“Again. Me too,” Caleb dipped his eyes and tried not to think about Mollymauk, exhausted after what he’d repeatedly told him was one of the most gruelling days a theatre could throw at you, still wanting to go an extra subway ride out of his way just to drop in on him.

Molly seemed to hesitate, like he wasn’t sure how to ask what he wanted to ask. So he went the same way he usually did, directly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Easy to answer, at least.

“I’m just tired,” Caleb croaked, “Writing’s been hard lately, I don’t know why.”

Molly did not have the expression of someone who’d just had their question fully answered. But he did look satisfied that this vagueness was all Caleb wanted to give him right now. He never asked for more than that.

Caleb watched as Molly’s ruby eyes flickered around the room, seeming to come to a decision, “Why don’t you come for dinner at my place?”

The question seemed so unconnected to everything else that Caleb wasn’t sure he’d heard right. He blinked, feeling the burn of drying tears.

“You don’t have to!” Molly added quickly, “Or we could go out somewhere? I just thought it might be good for you to get out of here for a little bit. Shake yourself out of this groove you’ve got stuck in.”

Caleb considered that, still surprised but more that Molly was offering him access to his own home. He knew he lived there with Yasha, who Caleb had met and enjoyed the calm, stoic presence of, that it was a pretty standard city apartment, a lot like his if a little pokier and probably much more nicely decorated. And apparently there were silverfish, Mollymauk had mentioned those. But he’d never seen it with his own eyes, even after months of being friends, even after Molly practically lived at Caleb’s. The curiosity alone would be enough to make him say yes.

If Molly hadn’t also struck right at the heart of what Caleb needed. He didn’t want to lean into the darkness inside him anymore, he wanted to get away from it, whether it filled his word document or not. He felt selfish but he was too strung out, too tired, to resist it.

So he nodded and rasped, “I’d like that, Mollymauk. Thank you.”

Molly’s grin was sudden and all the more crooked for that, like he was too delighted to properly affix it to his face.

“Ever jumped the turnstile on the subway?”

Caleb had been imagining a lot of things on the ride over and the few blocks walk through the puddles of streetlight. And as soon as they ducked into a blocky concrete complex, out of the light rain that had started falling, he saw a lot of what he’d decided to expect. The same slim, slightly claustrophobic corridors, the same elevator that never seemed to work so the same endless seeming trek up a flight of weird smelling stairs.

Caleb started to relax, it seemed like Molly lived a very normal life when he stepped out of their comfortable routine. He’d hate to think he was boring his colourful friend, asking him to sit in near silence for hours in his sparse little world.

They were walking up to the familiar, plain door standing to attention on a row of identical ones, when Caleb saw something he’d never imagined. Before Mollymauk could put his key in the lock, the door swung outwards and nearly caught him on the jaw.

And Mollymauk walked through.

That was the immediate, impossible thought that struck Caleb with some force, enough that he physically took a step back. But finally, after a few long moments spent rethinking his position on the laws of time and space, Caleb began to see the differences, as slight as they were. The Other Mollymauk was slightly taller though it was probably down to their choice of higher heels, their tattoos were exclusively black and white and, of course, different images entirely, their piercings were as excessive but differently arranged. Their hair was longer, loosely tied back with a leather band, they were dressed differently, in dark leathers, more monochromatic than Mollymauk seemed capable of being.

And they were beaming brightly, showing several cracked and hastily repaired teeth, whereas Mollymauk was frowning.

“Kingsley,” he said through gritted teeth, trying and failing to sound pleased to see this doppelganger, “You said you were going out tonight.”

The other lavender tiefling’s grin didn’t ebb in the slightest, his eyes having locked on Caleb and not looking ready to shift, “Where d’ya think I’m going, Mol? But now I can see why you wanted me gone…”

“I’ve wanted you gone since you started sleeping on my couch,” Molly said lightly, a little too lightly, “‘Just a couple of nights’ my arse.”

“Rude,” Kingsley said, still perfectly pleasantly, “You’re being very rude to your baby brother right now. Especially by not introducing me to your guest who I definitely don’t already know pretty much everything about because you’ve been talking about him constantly…”

“King,” Molly hissed, shoulders hunching and definitely not looking over at Caleb, who was wondering why, after thirty years of having a constantly neutral face, he was struggling to maintain one when he actually needed it.

Kingsley either had very poor hearing or very selective hearing, as he turned to Caleb and held a hand out. It had about as many rings as Molly’s usually did and a good few of those thin white scars but there were calluses on his palm and fingertips that had to be years old. They looked rough but felt smooth under Caleb’s touch as he shook his hand.

“You must be the author. Caleb, right?” The question seemed to be rhetorical as he just kept on talking with no pause, “I’m Kingsley, I’m Molly’s younger brother. Younger by about ten minutes but it still counts, whatever he says.” He jerked a thumb over in Molly’s direction who was trying to look very interested in straightening up his necklaces and not like he was listening anxiously.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Caleb couldn’t help but smile back, Kingsley’s grin had the same infectious quality that Molly’s did, “Molly did not mention you, sorry if I looked…um…”

“Like you were seeing double?” Kingsley winked, “No worries. Identical twins. Well, triplets really but that’s a whole other, messier story, Moll will tell you. I’m a sailor, I’m never around long enough to meet many of my big brother’s friends. Though you’re a new one, right?”

“Rather new,” Caleb admitted, his head somehow spinning faster as Kingsley tried to explain himself.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Kingsley’s grin turned a little sly, a little dangerous in the way only a younger sibling’s could, “He’s always talking about you. Oh, Caleb’s texted me, can’t watch that cooking show with you, King, I’m meeting Caleb, did I tell you about this one bit in Caleb’s book, Caleb did this really cute thing today-”

“Okay,” Molly’s teeth were clenched so hard they looked in danger of breaking, “You’re leaving. Now. Thank you. You have a date, remember?”

“It’s fine, Marius knows I’m always late,” Kingsley began to wave dismissively, still turned to Caleb but Mollymauk very pointedly moved into his eyeline and something in his brother’s expression must have proved convincing, before the wave turned into two placating, upraised palms, “Okay! You’re right, best be on my way…”

Caleb shifted, feeling himself at the root of this strange tension between the two brothers and not sure what to do with that. Especially as parts of his brain were clutching greedily at some of the things Kingsley was saying, while other parts tried to wrestle them out of their grip.

“See ya, Red!” Kingsley didn’t seem that put out, clearly he was well practised in irritating his brother, “Don’t be a stranger, promise now.”

But Kingsley was gone, his long, black leather coat billowing as he set off down the corridor and swept down the stairs, before Caleb could think about any promises. As soon as the sound of his heavy boots faded, Molly gave a shaky sigh, nudging the door open and holding it for Caleb.

“Brothers, right?” he smiled weakly.

“I wouldn’t know,” Caleb admitted, following behind him, eyes already widening to better take everything in, “I don’t have any siblings…Kingsley seems nice, though?”

“He’s…exuberant,” Molly dropped his keys onto a plate that was clearly handmade in some pottery class and garishly painted by Molly himself. In fact, handmade and garish seemed to describe most things in the tiny apartment.

“Yes, I can see that,” Caleb smiled, though only for a moment, watching Molly hang up his fantastically patterned coat, “It bothers you though?”

Molly’s shoulders sagged and his tail stilled, “No. No, I’m not that much of a dick. He’s just not been around this long before and he’s grating on me, I guess…anyway, can I get you a drink?”

Caleb was still awkwardly hovering behind Molly, unwilling to break some unspoken societal rule by stepping into this unfamiliar space before it’s owner but peering curiously into it. There was a lot of colour, it was like being in some cross between an antiques shop, a kitschy gift shop and an art studio. There was a sofa whose stuffing was coming out a little but some colourful throws were doing their best to draw attention away from it, there were little trinkets on every surface, there were glass squares in bright colours hanging in the window. The tiny kitchenette had a fridge groaning with ugly magnets, bundles of dried flowers and fragrant herbs tied together with twine and not one utensil matched any other. Caleb could have just stood and looked at every little corner for hours and been satisfied, taking in each new, bright, exciting thing.

But something was pulling his attention away. Unusual for him.

He turned to where Molly had moved behind the kitchen counter, seeming to be deliberately busying himself with finding two glasses.

“You’re not that much of a dick. You’re not a dick at all,” he said softly, earnestly, “You never are.”

Molly’s red eyes flickered up to meet Caleb’s and his jaw relaxed, “That’s…not something I hear a lot. Thank you.”

Caleb blinked, surprised by that, “Well. I’ll say it more often, then.”

The tiefling’s face twisted into a grimace, “I guess I’m just feeling like one lately. With Kingsley around and everything…”

Caleb realised with a start that he was usually on the other side of a conversation like this, recognising the tight pull in the corners of Mollymauk’s mouth and the restlessness as he tapped on the glasses he held the way he knew his own reflection’s nose and eyes in the mirror. Something was bothering his friend, who usually seemed so unbothered by everything in life that plagued people like Caleb.

He frantically tried to remember the way Veth and Beau and Percy spoke to him when they offered him comfort, “Would you like to talk about it?”

Molly did seem a little surprised, either that his discomfort had been obvious or that Caleb was offering. He seemed to think for a moment, teeth worrying his lower lip so purple lipstick smudged onto one long canine.

“I’m pretty sure I offered you dinner. Not to vomit all of my sad, tragic backstory onto your lap.”

His tone was joking but the hair on the back of Caleb’s neck stood up. Molly was jesting the way only people who had some significant damage could after they’d learned to mask it with humour. He’d been maddeningly curious to see what was in Molly’s apartment but he hadn’t been expecting this.

All the more reason why he sat down on the sofa, patted the cushion next to him and said, “We can eat after. If that's what you want. But I’m here right now?”

Molly still hesitated just a moment longer before walking over, abandoning the idea of food and drink and slumping down next to Caleb, having to shift a neatly folded blanket and pillow out of the way before he did. The comment about Kingsley sleeping on the couch was clearly literal.

“You’re wondering why I haven’t brought Kingsley around the cafe or anything?” he guessed, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.

Caleb nodded. That had been one of the roughly thousands of questions that popped into his head.

Molly gave the grim smile of someone at confession, “Not many people know about him. Yasha does, of course, it's technically her couch he surfs when he’s on shore leave. But no one else.”

“You weren’t going to tell me about him?” Caleb tried not to be hurt by that.

Molly gave him an apologetic look, “It just makes things harder to explain. He said he had a date, I thought he’d have cleared out by now, stumbled back at some godsforsaken hour of the morning and woken me up…okay, now I am being a dick.”

Caleb chuckled, fingers plucking at a loose thread in the sleeve of his jumper while his attention was on Molly, “I still don’t think you are. And you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to, obviously.”

But, after a moment’s pause, Mollymauk kept talking, “We’re triplets. Two of three. I don’t talk to the other one, Lucien, he…we had one conversation and I just don’t think he’s a good guy. Into weird cult shit, down a bad path. King tries to keep in touch with him but I don’t ask, y’know?”

Caleb shifted and nodded, “But Kingsley seems nice?”

“He is,” Molly smiled a little, “He’s a good kid with a good heart. I really wish I didn’t find being around him so difficult…he acts like he’s fine with it but I know he isn’t. How could he be?”

Caleb frowned, losing the thread of what his friend was saying, “Mollymauk?”

Suddenly there was a lump in Molly’s throat and tears in his eyes. Caleb was about to jump in, insist again that they didn’t have to talk about this but more words came before he had the chance, choking out painfully.

“Kingsley’s known me his whole life. I’ve known him for about three years now.”

Caleb felt a cold kind of shock wash over him with those words, as their meaning sank in fully, as the new questions built up. He clamped down on them hard, letting Molly have his time to take a shaky breath in and keep going.

“I have about three years worth of memory,” he swallowed hard, voice thick, “Everything before that is just a complete blank, the early months are all fractured and they hurt to try and think about. Like trying to remember a nightmare your brain is trying to throw out. All I know for certain is what other people have told me, that I walked into a hospital caked in mud and wearing next to nothing, that I collapsed on the front desk and was catatonic for the next few weeks. And even when I wasn’t, I…I had nothing. I was nothing. Empty. That’s the only word I could say, apparently. Just…empty.”

Caleb’s heart ached under the weight of everything he was feeling for Mollymauk, he did the only thing he could think to do, knowing his words would never be enough. He reached across and took his friend’s hand, threading their fingers together. And, instantly, gratefully, Molly clung on like he was gripping a lifeline.

It seemed to be what gave him the strength to keep talking, after his voice faltered, “I had to relearn how to speak, how to think for myself. I spent half a year on the psych ward before they decided I could take care of myself and I could but, fuck, I was half a person. I didn’t have a past at all, just the future and the future fucking terrified me. You can’t even imagine what that’s like, walking around with just static behind you.”

Caleb thought back guiltily to all the times he’d wished, wished so fervently, that he could wipe out his past and leave a blank slate. It was so easy to forget that nothing could be as terrifying as anything he put in his books or anything that lurked in his own mind.

Molly sniffed and continued, voice damp, “Thank every single god up there that I met Yasha pretty much the day after leaving the hospital. I just wandered into the theatre, I just wanted somewhere warm and colourful so I didn’t have to face the emptiness in my head. I watched the whole show without even having a ticket and afterwards, when I was still in my seat having a panic attack because it was over and what the fuck was I supposed to do next… Yasha came up to me and asked if I was okay. And she’s been making sure I am ever since.”

Caleb nodded, understanding how someone could do that for you. Veth had been exactly that for him. He never even should have been in the same recovery group as her, addiction certainly wasn’t his issue, but no one else knew how to categorise him. So he’d been mandated to attend that group at that time and place, sitting right next to Veth. It comforted Caleb to think back on that coincidence, it had been the first sign of fate nudging him gently and saying here, you can have a chance to get better.

He made a mental note to give Yasha a hug the next time he saw her. And Veth, too.

Molly’s thumb ran across the knuckles of Caleb’s hand, “I guess I turned out okay. I don’t think I’m the same person I was but I mean, shit, how would I know? But I like the person I am. I like Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

“I like him too,” Caleb murmured, letting himself speak without scrutinising what came out of his mouth first.

Molly gave a sodden little chuckle and squeezed his hand, “Thanks…and then a year after I got spat back out of the universe, I’m walking along one day and a man who looks identical to me runs up and slams me into the biggest, bone crunching hug you’ve ever felt.”

“Kingsley?” Caleb guessed.

“And he’s yabbering on about some guy called Nonagon and I haven’t a fucking clue who that is and I’m trying to explain but he’s so happy, he’s crying, saying how he thought his brother was gone forever and…and I’m the asshole who has to tell him no, his brother is dead and I’m walking around piloting his body like an unwanted ghost.”

Caleb winced, “Oh…”

“Grisly, huh?” Molly smiled bitterly, tears still freely falling down his cheeks and dripping onto their clasped hands, “All credit to him, King buys me a drink and he listens and he fills me in with as much as he can. The authorities scoured records for weeks after I showed up and my past just came and crashed into me on the sidewalk one Tuesday… But he tells me I have him and I have another brother, Lucien, that they all grew up together after being abandoned by whatever parents they had and chucked into the system. That Nonagon would always take care of them, find a way for them to eat, find a roof for them. That he was the best big brother anyone could want. That he was chasing some kind of magic, some power that would see them taken care of for the rest of their lives. And that one day he just disappeared…and I’m what’s left.”

Molly’s voice broke again then and he had to steady himself before he could go on. Caleb had an idea, twisting the fingers on his free hand into a complicated array as his eyes flashed blue. Freshly summoned, his fur still dusted with glowing motes, Frumpkin crawled into Molly’s lap and began butting his striped head against Molly’s jawline fondly. The tiefling took a deep breath, closing his eyes and finding a soft smile before it fell away and he kept going.

“King had to go and catch his ship, he’s with the Revelry? Y’know, like Fjord was? So he leaves me with more bloody questions and never writes, the forgetful little shit. So I just have to live with this until he blows back into town and when he is there…look, he tries. He calls me Molly, he treats me like I’m my own person but…I can see it in his eyes. That he’s wishing I was his big, brave brother that would fix everything for him and make him feel safe. And I’m not. I just can’t be, Caleb. I don’t know who that is.”

“It’s okay, Mollymauk,” Caleb pitched his voice low, trying to make it sound soothing and just hoping it worked, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself. Who you are is good enough.”

Molly gave a shuddery sigh, “I know. I do, I know but sometimes…I forget that I know?”

Caleb gave a little smile, “Yes. I understand that.”

The tiefling looked genuinely relieved at that, like he’d been worried he’d spoken a completely different language for the last minute. The sincerity in his voice was heartbreaking as he whispered, “Thank you.”

“That all sounds….” Caleb blew out his cheeks in a sigh as he tried to find a word, “Tough. Very tough.”

Molly snorted, wiping his eyes on his free sleeve before stroking Frumpkin’s ears, “Yeah. It was.”

He looked down at their joined hands, at the colour creeping up from under his sleeve, the snake that writhed between their grip.

“That’s why I make art, I think,” he murmured, voice soft and a little distant, “I feel like if I draw something, if I paint it and get it there on the page, I make it permanent. There’d be some part of me still there, even if my mind rebooted itself again. I’d have made some mark, even if I forget myself.”

“There’d be more than just that. I promise,” Caleb let his other hand join Molly’s, so now both held one of his, “But thank you for telling me this, Mollymauk.”

“Thanks for making me glad I did,” Molly smiled, a weak, exhausted smile but all the more true for that, “Okay. That’s all my baggage just poured out on your floor. Wanna eat now?”

Caleb chuckled, “If you’re ready…but let me do it. You sit down and rest.”

Molly opened his mouth to protest but Caleb wasn’t offering, getting to his feet and moving into the kitchen. The insistence died down into a rueful smile, he snagged Kingsley’s pillow and rested against the arm of the sofa, tucking his legs up under him like the emotional exhaustion was finally starting to press him down.

“Can you cook? By the way?” he wondered aloud.

“Depends,” Caleb’s answer was accompanied by the encouraging sound of plates clattering, “Do you have the boxed mac and cheese stuff?”

He did, in fact, surprising Caleb not in the slightest. So roughly eight to nine minutes later, he nudged Molly gently, roused him and pressed a bowl of cheap, easy but filling food into his hands. That was the way, rest and refuel, Caleb knew that well.

They ate in relative silence, happy just to be near each other and let the words build back up, Frumpkin a purring bread loaf between them. So, when he set his bowl down- a very pretty thing with a chipped rim and a pattern of fishes- Caleb turned to Mollymauk and he was ready.

“If you did forget yourself,” he murmured softly, “I would tell you everything you need to know about Mollymauk.”

Molly’s expression softened, his smile quirked up with some of it’s old brightness back, “Oh? What would you say?”

Caleb made himself meet those red eyes, “I would say that Mollymauk Tealeaf is incredibly generous. That he leaves every single life he’s in better than it was when he found it. That he is a gorgeous artist, that all he does is make things beautiful and bright. I’d tell you that Mollymauk is very good with kids. I’d say that he’s really funny and his laugh is wonderful to listen to. That he puts too much sugar in his coffee and orders pickles on his sandwich even though he doesn’t like them just so I can have them. That he can talk about musicals for hours and he plays guitar better than he thinks he can and I love how he moves his hands when he talks. And…well, I’d be able to think of more things in the moment but yes. I'm so glad I met him. I couldn’t be happier that he is my author and my friend.”

Molly’s eyes were shining again, rubies starting to sparkle. It was his turn to be out of words, just moving under the arm Caleb opened for him, tucking himself in close. Frumpkin trilled, not wanting to be forgotten, slipping into the embrace and settling on Caleb’s knee.

And Caleb wrapped his arms around Mollymauk and held him close, the way he hadn’t held another person in quite some time. He gave comfort to his friend and felt something inside him heal in the same moment, that had been broken since that afternoon and probably a long time before that too

And, for the first time, Caleb was looking forward to the release date of his book. He heard Jester’s voice in his head again. If you’re going to ask this Molly guy out- and I totally think you should- could you guys maybe wait?

Maybe he was tired of waiting.

#critical role #widomauk #modern au #author au #slow burn #please reblog and comment!

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newbornnebulae · 3 years

Text

Truth is a loaded gun

The truth of the matter is, Dorian has grown to care for his friends. It's the only reason he makes the choice that he does.

A character study of Dorian in episode 5, because Robbie made some WILD decisions. Also on AO3

Dorian’s thinking of Dariax as he speaks to the disembodied voice that had visited his dear friend the previous evening already. As he bargains with it, his mouth moves faster than he can keep up. He’s bluffing, he thinks, when he says yes, yes he would trade the crown, an undeniable danger to the world in Poska’s hands, for his friend’s safety.

Maybe he doesn’t know himself as well as he should because when he searches inside for the lie that should be there, there’s only truth. He’s always considered himself a good man, reasonable, logical, moral… but he can feel the ring of honesty in his words; he would truly rather the whole of Emon burn down (again) than allow something to happen to his friend -friends, he corrects himself.

It’s just that he can’t get the image of Dariax’s eyes gone jet black out of his head. The colour of his eyes are too lovely to be hidden in such an unsettling manner. The handsome dwarf doesn’t have enough self-preservation, or any for that matter. It’s all too easy for Dorian to imagine him falling prey to the crown and to the Spider Queen. Every time Dariax makes to reach for the crown with his bare hands, Dorian can feel his own chest constrict.

If Dariax were to turn into a darker form of himself, Dorian doesn’t believe he’ll have the strength to deal with it in the same way they’d dispatched of Alternate-Fearne. With the crown gone, there would be nothing of that nature to worry about. Dariax could continue to be his stupidly charming and pure self.

It’s beyond frustrating to Dorian that Orym had used Gilmore’s enchanted box just to send away a damned note. More than that, he’s upset with himself for insisting they hold onto the cursed crown in the first place.

Almost from a far away perch, he could see and hear himself snap at Orym unreasonably, time and time again. What makes it doubly worse is that Orym hardly ever responds in kind, doesn’t point fingers or place blame. It never makes Dorian feel better, only guiltier.

He knows it’s his own fault they are in this mess; the only reason Dariax is forced to continue carrying the crown is because Dorian had insisted they keep it. Dorian knows and the whole group must think it too. But all Orym does is quietly observe his outbursts. It’s annoying that Orym can remain so calm even as he confronts Dorian, while Dorian keeps having these hot flashes of anger he can hardly control.

Dorian finds himself to be more irritable as they traverse through the jungle, the heat and humidity of the place getting under his skin. Aside from his frustration with Orym, he eyes Fy’ra Rai with distrust, bristles at Opal’s prodding, and can’t help but grow annoyed at Fearne’s flute playing. It’s irritating when she plays poorly, the sound grating against his patience. It’s bothersome in it’s own way when she plays well, an uncomfortable jealousy prickling his skin.

The only person who hardly gets on his nerves is Dariax.

Partly it’s from a sense of guilt. At Gilmore’s, Dariax had looked at him so earnestly.

“If you want to keep it, we’ll keep it,” he’d said, unquestioningly supportive even when Dorian couldn’t give the group a good reason why. He’d seen how frightened Dariax had been after his dream with the Spider Queen. The dwarf had made an admirable attempt to act as though everything were fine, but it is plain to see that everything is not fine.

There’s something so remarkably straightforward about Dariax, some would say simple-minded. As someone who doesn’t know the first thing about being straightforward, Dorian appreciates that about him.

Where Dariax is earnest and charming, Dorian is reserved most of the time and politely posh at his best. Dariax goes along with anything, easygoing and generous with his warmth. The only thing Dorian is generous about is imagining a generous amount of terrible scenarios that could happen. He can, at any given point in time, come up with more than twenty reasons why something is a bad idea. He’s rational in the worst of ways.

As far as adventuring goes, Dariax has significantly more experience than him. The dwarf is never afraid to wander into the unknown. Dorian prefers to know where he’s going, how long it will take to get there, what dangers there might be, so on and so forth. It’s an effort for him to relax, something he’s had to learn how to do.

It was all learned, Dorian’s charm. Growing up, he hadn’t possessed an ounce of charisma. But he’d practiced until he could murmur polite platitudes in his sleep. He studied others, trying to figure out how people worked. He stood in front of his reflection, training himself to stand confidently, move naturally. Sheltered child that he had been, it had been important to have a certain image.

Slipping into Dorian Storm, a charming bard, was all the easier for it later on.

Unfortunately for him, the awkwardness still comes out sometimes. Dorian is still kicking himself for his display at Gilmore’s. Attractive men made it difficult for him to retain his composure or think straight. He’d gotten flustered again at the pageant, seeing Dariax in the clothes he himself wore everyday.

He should consider himself lucky that he’d managed to remain cool in front of the group for so long. Next to Orym, he’s supposed to be the other reasonable one. Well, the group still likes him just fine and Dariax still looks at him with respect and admiration at the very least.

While Dorian does his best not to read too much into the other man’s words -Dariax is the type to say things without thinking them through- he can’t help but think he’s Dariax’s favourite out of the whole group. Dariax looks to him for leadership, wakes him up after having a nightmare, sleeps back to back with Dorian out of everybody else.

It’s flattering, it’s nice, and it could be why Dariax is Dorian’s favourite.

It’s not the whole picture though. Dorian thinks on how he’d said to Poska all those weeks ago, “If Dariax doesn’t like you then I don’t like you.” Even back then Dariax had had his trust, as much as he’s able to give at least. Perhaps it has to do with the week of memories they’d collectively lost. Dorian doesn’t know how else he could have so much respect for a dwarf that he’s seen with shit in his beard.

As much as Dariax seems to seek him out, Dorian gravitates toward Dariax in turn. It’s impossible for Dorian to be totally truthful about himself, but with Dariax, some foolish part of him wants to be. While the circus Dariax believes in does not exist, Dorian had not been completely dishonest about his situation. It’s the most he’s ever shared with someone.

The thing is, Dorian has never had a best friend before, but if he had to guess, Dariax is the closest thing he has to one. Emon be damned, Dorian’s not ready to give that up anytime soon.

#critical role #exandria unlimited #exu #cr spoilers #exu spoilers #dorian storm #dariax #doriax #spider queen #fanfic #after i finished this #i started writing a dark dorian story #so there's that #well idk how dark it will get but #there will be a lot of conversations between dorian and the spider queen #that would be a good band name #dorian storm and the spider queen #my fanfic

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peach-the-owl · 3 years

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Exu crew and an artificer kid? The crew enters the kids home town and they don't seem that happy about it but doesn't say anything, everyone goes different ways to shop/explore/etc and while everyone goes their own ways the kids old bullies pull them into an alleyway and just bully them breaking anything kid made/name calling/pulling hair just being unbelievable mean. The bullies all freeze, then kid looks over their shoulders and sees the whole group behind them looking intimidating, the bullies run away while the other ask what's going on and try to comfort their child.

Wow this was longer then I expected SORRY!! I hope you have a wonderful day ❤️

There’s no need to be sorry for an idea 😁 I hope this turned out good

(Second piece to deal with a bullying theme, dang)

Fine Craftsmanship

ExU Crew & Child!Artificer!Reader

The trip to Byroden was a longer one then you first thought, having to make a few pit stops to rest and restock on food, but it did have its perks, giving you time to work on some projects while on the road. They weren’t anything huge, you wanted to surprise everyone in the group with a personally crafted item, everything was fine at first until you recognized the town you were currently approaching.

"Are you alright (y/n)? You seem a bit jumpy." Dorian comments, having noticed your fidgeting hands. You take a quick second to calm yourself before replying.

"I’m fine, this is actually my hometown. I haven’t seen it in awhile, you know." He gives you a small nod and gets himself a better look out the window.

"If you’re from here that means you know where all the good stops are right?" Dariax asks excitedly.

"I’m still a kid, I wouldn’t know what’s 'good' in your opinion." You stare blankly, it was a bit strange sometimes to be one of the smartest people in the group.

"Right, right. No drinking for you." Dariax says, as if he already knew all this. You playfully roll your eyes at him and smile a little, maybe this wouldn’t so bad after all, so long as you stayed close to everyone. You enter the town and find a good place to park the Glitter-Shitter (I can’t even write the word with a straight face) before making your way into the marketplace and instantly Opal is off browsing the different shops and stalls of the market, dragging Fearne along with her and Fy'ra Rai trailing behind them, telling everyone to meetup in an hour. Dorian heads over to the tavern hoping to sweet talk the folk there for some food for the road, Dariax tagging along most likely to grab some drinks and test his luck with some gambling. Orym had disappeared from your sight entirely, heading off to do his own thing if you had to take a guess. You sigh unsure of where to go, now just hoping things go by quickly and without trouble as you sit by the wagon pull out some tools and continue to tinker away at a small gift you were making for Fearne for a while, placing your mind into a false sense of security.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to come home." You hear a chillingly familiar voice spite at you and look over at the three people you were hoping not to see. There was Marty, Hamna, and their self proclaimed leader Fion (I just made up some names here, idk), they used to terrorize you relentlessly until you’d finally had enough and snuck on that cart to Emon, which lead to the adventure you were on now, a story come full circle in the worst way to you. You get up quickly hoping to dash over to where Opal and Fearne where looking at some sparkling necklaces for protection, you don’t move quick enough as you’re yanked back by your hair by either Marty or Hamna as Fion covers your mouth to avoid you shouting for help. Once pulled into a nearby alleyway, away from public view, Marty and Hamna each restrain one of your arms. You thrash and struggle to try and free yourself, managing to loosen their grip slightly only to get socked in the jaw by Fion giving the other two the chance to readjust their grip into a more secure position, trapping you.

"Let go! Leave me alone!" You shout as you continue to squirm to try and free yourself.

"Awww, and what are you going to do if we don’t?" Marty teases. You wanted to cast something to no avail with their tight grip preventing you of freeing yourself and grabbing your tools.

"Look at them," Hamna laughs, "they’re too weak to even break free." You glare at them. Fion walks over to you and starts rummaging around your bag, mindlessly throwing around the various items you’ve worked on for a long time to make.

"What’s this supposed to be?" They ask, holding up a hair clip you had intended to give to Opal.

"That’s for my friend! Put it back!" You shout a little too loud for their liking and the two holding your arms use their free hands to cover your mouth, muffling your words or cry’s for help. The one holding the hair clip looks it over in their hand before looking you in the eyes and snapping the item in half.

"Oops, sorry. My hand slipped." Their voice dripped with sarcasm. They continue to rummage through your bag, or look through the small pile of items they threw out of it, pulling out items you wanted to give to everyone as gifts. Every time they’d inspect one item, they'd just as quickly break it, smashing it on the ground or snapping it in their hands. You struggled and tugged against the two still holding you back and muffling out your voice, but it was no use, you were restrained, unable to call for help and left to helplessly watch as they destroyed your hard work. As if things couldn’t get worse, they pull out your tools, the literal lifeblood for your magic, look you straight in your eyes and while struggling a bit manage to break them too.

"Awww, they’re crying like a baby." Hamna laughs.

"That’s because they are a baby." Marty continues.

"If you really want to cry like a baby, we’ll give a reason to cry." Fion eggs on, getting the other two to harshly shove you to the ground. You curl into a ball preparing for the worst, you wait a moment and when nothing happens you peek up to see the three of them frozen in place with fear in their eyes. You adjust yourself to have a look over your shoulder and see everyone standing with intimidating looks on their faces.

Dorian stared daggers at the bullies, while also subtly fiddling with his handaxe. Opal twirled her knives in her hands, magic sparking at her fingertips, and if you looked closely enough you could see a faint glow emit from her necklace. Fearne stood tall, her snake staff coming to life and hissing at the three, Mister well perched on her shoulder screeches, purposely showing the fiery interior of his mouth. Orym takes a step in front of you, acting as a shield for you while placing his hand on the hilt of his sword, you knew well enough he wouldn’t actually draw his sword on the other kids, but they didn’t know that. Dariax on the other hand looked very ready to strike at the three, holding a tight grip on his spear.

"Are you hurt bad?" Orym asks quietly, looking over to you. You shake your head giving an equally quiet "no".

"I’m not a fan of people hurting my little friend here." You hear Dariax say, now fulling pointing his spear at the others, the three each take step back. You finch at the feeling of being suddenly lifted off the ground, finding yourself in Dorian's arms, he gives you a concerned but reassuring smile.

"Let’s get out of here!" Fion commands and the three turn to leave but are stopped when Fy'ra Rai blocks their exit, her eyes burning into them with fury.

"You’re unjust actions should not be left unpunished. You dare to put down this child as if they are weak, when it is you three that are the weaklings. Knowing you would never stand a chance alone you group together and single out the ones you see as vulnerable. It is sad and pathetic, now leave while we still show you mercy." Her voice held such a powerful tone to it, it almost felt like the ground itself shook at her words. Fion, Marty and Hamna scramble over each other before running off, one of them crying for their mommy.

"Who where those children? Do you know?" Dorian asks. You let out a long sigh and explain to everyone a bit about your life when you still lived in the town.

"What’s all this stuff here?" Opal speaks up, staring at the broken pile of items.

"I wanted to surprise you all with some gifts I made, but now their all broken." You sigh sadly.

"You made theses for us?"

"I tried to, I know they aren’t that good but you’ve all been so nice and carding to me, I wanted to retune the favour."

"That’s really sweet of you." Fearne smiles, giving you a pat on the head, you smile a little at this.

"Why don’t you just fix them? I’ve seen ya do stuff like that before." Dariax butts in.

"I would, but they broke my tools too." You pout.

"Well that’s easy, we'll just buy you some new tools." Dorian states, shuffling you in his grip a bit to have a better hold on you. You look up at him with big hopeful eyes.

"Really? I don’t want to bother you."

"It’s no bother at all, your our little genius, the last thing we’d want are some small town jerks preventing you from ever thinking that." He proudly proclaims, getting affirmation from the others. Fy'ra Rai walks over and gently lifts your chin up to look at her.

"Listen to me little one, you are much stronger then you'd ever believe, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise." You give her a small nod, not entirely sure what she means but finding her words encouraging nonetheless.

"You know what? I do remember seeing these really awesome looking tools, while searching for a cloths shop. Here I’ll show you." Opal brightens up a bit, grabbing and dragging Dorian and by extension you off into the market again.

"Opal!" Dorian calls in surprise, holding tighter to you so you wouldn’t fall. You just giggle at the two, looking over your shoulder to see the others hurrying to catch up.

#critical role #critical role & reader #exandria unlimited #exandria unlimited & reader #dariax zaveon #dariax & reader #dorian storm #dorian & reader #fearne calloway #fearne & reader #opal #opal & reader #orym #orym & reader #fy'ra rai #fy'ra rai & reader

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staggeringsmite · 3 years

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HELLO! just finished properly listening to your (amazing!) corruption arc playlist! I have many thoughts, and so I wanted to ask you about specific moments and/or characters that you associate with songs (as mentioned in your tags), as I am simply SO intrigued. (did you have certain songs that were added for certain character(s)? were any songs for specific what if's? etc.) also, please consider this a free pass to ramble about anything related to the playlist that you wish. it is SO excellent!!

AHHHH!! thank you jade (both for the compliment and the free space to yell about my thoughts here because when i get playlist brainrot i get it Bad <3) // the playlist in question

i think i'm genuinely going to do a song-by-song thoughts below the cut, but here are some overview thoughts/associations if you don't wanna read all of that or don't have the time!

overall this started with athena by nova twins! i thought the sp*der imagery and overall vibe was great for a more sinister look at the wacky (mostly) chaotic neutral party as they are, just going full lolth. i wanted the pacing to be semi-slow and then drop into the more rock-heavy reckless villain-y section before moving into a (?) bittersweet? i guess? end that feels a bit more like a question mark of if it was worth it.

i think this party is full of extremely interesting motivations to side with an evil power for their own gain/the benefit of the people they care about, and each one of them has a very complex relationship with that so things spun wildly out of control as a thought about this.

for songs i associate with specific characters here's an overview, but you'll notice there aren't a lot for fy'ra rai or orym which i get into a bit more in the song-by-song:

all: i come with knives, into the spin, steady/steady, control, bad dreams / lolth: million years, athena, diggers / dariax: diggers, plenty, hollow / dorian: athena, grenadine, dangerous / fearne: plenty, you should see me in a crown, black wave / fy'ra rai: home / opal: home, grenadine, black wave, you should see me in a crown / orym: i'm not calling you a liar, dangerous

song-by-song >:)

1. i come with knives (acoustic) - this song, zoowee, so i went with the acoustic version because i think it's a nice slow but sinister start and it very much gave me the feeling of whenever you begin as a character to question taking this kind of power, that is a Source yes that you can do whatever with but is rooted in temptation and associated with evil, is there any real justification for that which is not in some part selfish. "i come with knives and agony to love you" if that isn't the chosen ones to a T in their overall reasoning for even considering a deal with lolth. and as much as that may be rooted in care, and wanting to be strong and powerful enough to protect the people they care about, it is a painful way to love when you really choose that path once and for all.

2. into the spin - this one is based on "slow climb but quick to descend" and i love the instrumentation as a part of the overall vibe, but it's about sowing the seed here. planting even a hint of consideration in accepting the power of the circlet and lolth's words is going to need time for the person to mull it over, but once it's on it is On baby.

3. million years - this is what i mean by All In Baby, and while it isn't the playlists narrative point of anyone actually accepting the power for good, it is a glimpse intended to shake things up after an 8 minute slow start with the first two songs, and this is all about lolth who is a Chaotic Evil entity, who is a reckless and hauntingly destructive force <3

4. home - "everything you made will end up broken" i think this song to fy'ra rai is more of an omen, of everything that she cannot fix but wants to, knowing that she cannot make choices for the group and seeing the potential path they could wind up on and knowing that fundamentally if they go that way it is their decision no matter how much it will hurt her - for opal there is SOMETHING about the tone of this song that feels very much like her, and the complete lack of care it seems to have to rattle off mundane things to the intimate drama of the place, to omens, to demands/declarations i think it shows her personality well and how that pairs with a chaotic neutral entity being offered something like the power of the circlet

5. steady, steady - idk if this is necessarily everyone but the mix of you know when you're ready and i am ready to be the one, this is the song about taking the leap and grabbing for power and/or fy'ra rai and orym's feelings of diving in with them or resisting/leaving them

6. diggers - for lolth this is just the consistent "i've been waiting for you" in the bg which i found fun and disconcering but also i think this is the perfect party and perfect storm for her to convince someone to use the circlets power >:) - for dariax! it seems with what we know he doesn't really know that he is a divine soul sorcerer? unless that is a show he is putting up. still, i feel like him carrying the circlet is Very interesting as someone with a divine bloodline who is in a way being given/chosen for that type of power holding onto this artifact born from evil and perhaps being tempted by it & i think this song works as an interesting back and forth for him with the strange double-entity grab for him in a way

7. athena - truly just a banger that fit the vibes wayyyy too well and started this whole thing, it's loud and reckless and out for blood babey <3 - i think i associate it with dorian mostly because i also associate it with lolth and he is the closest to really taking that leap in canon (and also probably the first one the go if we're following this playlist like a story with everyone/most everyone going corrupt, though it can be read truly infinite ways these are just compiled songs) i think it has a certain flair and appeal that just makes me Feel like it's the song that would play the second dorian puts the circlet on (which! fun fact! decreases your charisma by 2! have fun beloved bard!) - i think it's a very intense conversation

8. i’m not calling you a liar - okayokayokay it's orym thought time bc there are sooo many worlds and routes for orym here and i truly have no idea where he would even end up in this hypothetical. do i think that orym loves these guys and wants to protect them? yes. do i think that he may genuinely take the pain of loving them and keep his morals by walking away and/or turning on them if they all go evil? maybe. do i think he also might love them enough to throw that away? maybe. in a party of all chaotic neutrals besides him without fy'ra rai he is surprisingly the wild card here. while they have each other and no one else, he has the teachings and wisdom of the voice of the tempest and a moral compass that does not align with theirs at all. so, something has to give! dorian's slide into chaotic neutral was natural, but i think orym would be giving up Much More of himself to let himself slide from neutral good to chaotic neutral. i have no answers only sad, sad hypotehtical questions and scenarios so i will just, leave you with "and i love you so much, i'm gonna let you kill me." - this song also comes here before the storm of the 3-5 because whatever way he goes i think orym sees it all happen before anyone else does.

9. grenadine - Do Not Tell Me You Couldn't Hear villainous opal and dorian say the lines "what a big heart i have, i'll be your savior now. what a real catch i am, all the more to pull you down." - i see this song as playful but more genuine for dorian in terms of Truly Really believing any action he does to protect his friends is justified and good to him in his eyes whereas this is a very playful song for a villainous opal - they both give off this vibe strongly though (could see this one for fearne as well but don't have a good a justification)

10. black wave - helloooooo my favorite druid and warlock?? going apeshit with power? more so than they already are on a day-to-day basis (esp given episode 6 combat)? that's what this song is about. "stumbling down the street i swear to god you don't wanna test me" - i also think they both have an interesting question with "what do i believe?" with fearne being of the feywild which is a place of considerably different moral standing to exandria and opal being so young that she doesn't have the world figured out at all <3 terrifying and upsetting when you get into those questions on a corruption arc <3

11. you should see me in a crown - okay i knooooow this one is on the dorian playlist BUT vibes for my brutal babes <333 something about opal’s whole personality and fearne confronting the mirror self But eventually choosing/heading down the path anyway?? impeccable i love it there’s very few other thoughts here

12. control - OKAY not only does this song Fuck but i put it as party wide because i think it transitions nicely into the end of the mix which is more of the “questioning this decision after going all in but not being able to turn back/was it all worth it in the end?” part - i mostly love the “though i like the idea of providence... i’m in love with control” repeated because! i think the circlet is very interesting in that it has been iterated many times over that though it has connections to lolth and she has some claim/twisted abilities with it, it IS just a power source. so, the idea of going all in and accepting this power is an incredibly interesting dilemma of “who’s in charge here? did you really put it on/would you have without these dreams and lolth’s influence? are you really in control?” i think this song really represents that admission/delusion of control in this situation.

13. plenty - okay this song in any context is just my Feywild/Faerie Vibe song so i think this trails back to my feelings about fearne leaning into that different set of fey morals along a corruption arc, and as for dariax i think this is about abundance! following through that mixture of divine power source and chaotic evil god origin over dariax and his chaotic history of vast and varied experiences in emon, i think this very much befits a corrupt version of him.

14. dangerous - this song makes me insane, and the first reason i put it on the mix was the “the dead are true believers. rest assured. we are all believers” really just made me think of a terrible and cinematic moment of them discovering the circlet with the dead aboard the ship ESP in the context of this playlist’s narrative where that was the point they were destined to claim its power and go through their corruption arc - “how does it feel to be your own deceiver?” is the main reason and feeling as for why i made this a dorian song as well in line with “don’t worry i would do anything for my friends.” bc i personally find dorian’s corruption arc to be disillusioned with his own intentions and takes a lot of convincing himself that taking this power for his friends is noble in the scope of this group’s collective morals and self-interest in keeping each other safe and prosperous so <3

15. hollow - woowee dariax corruption, at least in this scope, i think is very frightening to me in that i think he’s going full maximalist, abundant, greedy, impulsive chaotic evil if we’re realllly leaning into a villain arc but still many of those things if we’re just going “this group is the only thing that matters and i’ll do anything for them no matter the cost” - i also think this song has a tone of resentment towards this? apprehension a bit? recognizing that this is how the person singing is but not entirely enjoying or feeling justified in it? as impulsive as dariax is, i think he cares A Lot, and is even a character i could see pulling a reverse dorian and going chaotic good in a different story than we’re in? “so simple when i was younger” and “i’d be a dancer of a different tune” really give me angsty dariax vibes in the height of his corruption arc

16. bad dreams - “don't you worry about your bad dreams cause I'm not in them. don't you worry about what change brings cause you can't stop it.” WOOF i don’t know that this one really needs to be explained but it’s the climax and the descent all in one of the party/corrupted individual being too far gone in their decision to step back or be saved. i think the tone of the song lends itself well to a mixture of uncaring but also giving some question to if they regret it or not based on the narration of the crowd against them.

#cheep cheep #ask #jadeandquartzes #this is ridiculously long i just <333 get so lost in the playlist sauce <333 all the time <333 #if you read all of this i am kissing you on the cheek <3 #spider ment #spider tw

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