#mighty nien fanfiction

[pumpkin-mush-and-seeds]

Fanfiction Recommendations: Camp Wildemount by cashewvesh

A very cute summer camp AU where the mighty nien are the teenage camp counselors and the bells hells are the campers! So far it only has one chapter but I think it's really cute so I think it is still worth checking out even if it's never updates.

There's also some small shipping even in this first chapter and it stays very sweet about it. The only Trigger Warning (Spoilers ahead) I would put is that there's some small transphobia that's mentioned and that Trent Ikithon is mentioned in one line. After that it's all fluff really.

Of course there's only one chapter as of the time of posting, so that's all this post covers.

Tags and summary from the fic below!

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto Characters: Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre, Beauregard Lionett, Mollymauk Tealeaf, Caduceus Clay, Fjord (Critical Role), Nott | Veth Brenatto, Yasha (Critical Role), Imogen Temult, Laudna (Critical Role), Fresh Cut Grass (Critical Role), Ashton Greymoore, Fearne Calloway, Orym (Critical Role), Dorian Storm, Chetney Pock O'Pea, Cyrus Wyvernwind, Ariks Eshteross, Essek Thelyss, Verin Thelyss, Percival "Percy" Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III, Vex'ahlia (Critical Role), Keyleth (Critical Role), Vax'ildan (Critical Role), Pike Trickfoot, Scanlan Shorthalt, Grog Strongjaw, Vesper Elaina de Rolo | Percy and Vex'ahlia's Child, Leona Pike de Rolo, Wolfe Kristoff de Rolo, Vax'ildan Frederick de Rolo, Gwendolyn Zahra Melanie Von Musel de Rolo, Wilhand'ildan Shorthalt, Juniper Shorthalt, Kaylie Shorthalt Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Modern Era, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bells Hells as kids, I got inspired by a TDP art piece and wrote… this, Internalized Transphobia, because Dorian’s parents suck Summary:

The fic is exactly as the title and tags say: a summer camp in Wildemount! The Mighty Nein are teenagers and camp counselors, while Bells Hells are kids attending the camp. Chetney is just the grumpy old man in the woods — don’t worry about it!

[kward-the-local-cryptid]

Bard Beginnings

Mighty Nien Meet Child!Reader, Who is a Bard. 

a/n: Hey all! So I got super inspired to write some child!reader fanfic after reading @peach-the-owl and @cornbake stuff. (Seriously go check them out, I love their works!) This is my first attempt at a reader insert fic, but I hope you enjoy none the less.  Trigger warnings: This fic contains child neglect and child abuse (hitting no blood). 

With a deep breath and a strum of your lute you start to feel the magic within you stir. Pin pricks turn into tingling as you belt out the final chorus. Your magic swelling as faster notes are strummed. The crowd cheers you on as your magic forms into prestidigitation, sending colored sparks just behind your back. Cheering continues as you take a dramatic bow and let the last of the patrons toss in their coin. Zadash was decently kind to your coin purse each time you came. You had learned the tricks to getting the most coin quickly. Simply start with an upbeat tune, then move onto a classic Dwendalian song (one where the crowd could sing along), then somber, then upbeat, and keep that going until the guards start to linger for just a little too long. Though thanks to the harvest close festival, the guards seemed to tolerate you for much longer than normal. 

 Another bow and a wave as the crowd disperses, you pick up the small hat now filled with coin. Part of your attention is brought to the odd group standing just to the side who had yet to leave. Two Tieflings, a half orc, two humans, a large woman, and a small creature are chatting amicably. An odd group no doubt but you think you saw the blue one put something in your hat, so they can’t be all that bad. You tilt your head towards the smaller creature. Their porcelain mask somewhat unnerving and the high-pitched voice does not match a child’s, odd indeed. When your eyes flick back up, both humans are staring at you intently. Smiling you give them both a small wave.

“Oi Runt!” A slurred voice calls from the alleyway behind you, “where da hells the money?” Your body tenses as you hear your caretaker drunkenly yelling for you. Practiced hand allows you to stuff a quick handful of coins into your pocket before walking towards the alley. As you step into the shadow, you miss the way the group continues to watch you as you retreat. 

“Bah! Took ya long enough!” Your caretaker sways and snatches the coin filled hat, “Hpmhf, barely enough in here to get drunk. Yer lucky I’m in a good mood.” The threat at the end of that sentence is not lost on you as you watch the man stumble back into the street. “Find yerself somewhere to sleep tonight, we leave in da mornin.” Biting back a sarcastic comment about his so-called good mood, you go deeper into the alley. Between the smell of candied apples and the silk banners floating above the rooftops you can’t help the smile. It won’t be so bad sleeping in the street tonight, maybe there will even be discarded festival food around. Food brings awareness to the uncomfortable emptiness in your stomach. Two days without anything to eat brings a sigh from you as you jingle the handful of coins you managed to get. Clutched in your hand you find some copper and even a silver piece! Though what catches your eye the most is a crumbled piece of parchment. 

Stepping to the side of an oncoming group of festival goers as you enter a new street, you pull apart the paper. Written in very neat calligraphy reads, “The Traveler”. It’s some sort of religion? The few pages talk about pranks and are filled with little drawings that make you giggle. You especially like the mage hand giving a wedgie to someone. You read through the pamphlet a few more times before safely tucking it away in your pocket. Mixing into a crowd this large is easy and before you know it you are munching on some festival food. A large part of you wants to inhale the skewered meat you bought but that small rational part of your brain keeps you from doing so. You eat one stick with much gusto but save the second stick in your pouch. It would be a good breakfast, after all. Between the rousing games and chatter and songs and peddlers, you loose track of the dusk until it is late into the night. Loud drinking and even more singing keeps you on your toes and helps to keep you out of sight. Nights like these are your favorites. Nights where you don’t have to worry about where to stay, or how to eat or what your caretaker will do to you. For a few blessed hours, you get to just enjoy being alive.  

Yet before you know it the crowds begin to disperse. Drunks are wobbling their way home, the bards are packing up, and the vendors are cleaning out the last of their stalls. With a stealthy foot and a cautious eye, you manage to find an alleyway tucked away in just the right spot. The Guards pass by without giving it a second look but there is enough room to spread your legs out and lean against the grimy stone wall. A shiver runs up your spine as you huddle into yourself. Harvest close meant it was turning to late fall now. Snow would be in the winds soon and having this pleasant of a night will be a distant dream. Star dotted skies and food in your belly help lull you into a stiff sleep. A smile on your face as you think of the wonderful festival day. 

You startle awake, immediately with your hand clutched on the small dagger in your shoe. Though blinking the sleep from your eye leaves you staring down at your legs. A striped cat looks up at you from its perch on your knees. After you blink at the cat for a moment or two, it sticks it tongue out and you can’t but giggle. With more caution than strictly necessary, you present your hand to the creature. Nuzzling and purring makes your smile widen as the cat happily accepts scritches from you. For a few moments the cat simply enjoys your attention before it scampers off towards the opening of the alleyway. With a sigh you snuggle back into yourself. It’s still dark out, and now its cold enough to see your breath. Before you can close your eyes again, a meow sounds off at the end of the alleyway. The cat is sitting, staring at you. Slowly you untangle yourself and step towards the cat. They bound up and begin to walk in front of you, only a few paces ahead, constantly checking to make sure you are still following. 

Shivering but with a small grin you follow the cat to a small inn close to the pentamarket. The door is slightly cracked open and the cat slips in. In for a copper, you think as you press yourself into the warm building. The smell of ale and chicken hit your nose as you let out a relieved sigh. You had not realized how cold you were until you can feel the heat slowly melting the freezing temperature from your bones. There are seven patrons left in otherwise empty bar. Looking over the faces you recognize them as the odd group from your performance. They all pause in their conversation and turn to look at you. Except for the human women in blue, who is currently face down on the table with a bleeding head wound.

“Frumpkin, I asked you to find a healer.” A man with copper colored hair and a dirt covered face addresses the cat before bringing his eyes back to you. For a moment, you are lost in the sensation of familiarity in those blue eyes. Haunted. Much like your own eyes.

“UUUhhhhnnnnnn” the sitting woman moans against the table. The head wound still gently oozing blood.

“Hair of the dog that bit her?” You ask to the group with a knowing smile, your caretaker is much the same after a night of drinking. Barfights typically the only thing ending his nights in the tavern. You pull out your lute and begin a soft soothing tune. Almost like a lullaby, its tones melt into a soothing melody. Once the last cord is struck, you gently touch her shoulder and can feel the tension leave her body. The wound on her forehead sealing shut and some of the swelling going down. The woman pushes herself up off the table and blinks for a moment.

“Holy fuck that’s better.” She grunts and you can’t help the smile.

 “You may feel better, but no more drinking tonight, okay? You need to rest.” You keep smiling at her even as she leans away from you with a confused look. 

“Who the shit brought the gnome?” You snort at her abrasive tone. 

“Not a gnome ma’am, just a kid following a cat.” You look down and wiggle your fingers at Frumpkin, and the cat happily attacks your fingers and purrs when you scratch their head. “Though next time you need a healer just go to the hospital, silly little friend.” With a final giggle you look back up to the adults now all staring at you. Thankfully the tiny creature in the porcelain mask breaks the silence when they look up to the blue Tiefling. 

“I thought you were a cleric, why couldn’t you do that?” Based on how the half orc leans away the loud response was expected. 

“Well it’s not my fault I’m traveling with a bunch of people that keep getting hurt and stuff! The Traveler can only do so much in a day!”  

“The Traveler?” You pull out the pamphlet from your pocket, “You mean like this one?” Immediately the blue Tieflings eyes light up brilliantly as she hops up and down. 

“You read my pamphlet for the Traveler? Isn’t he the coolest, and he can do so many things! He’s honestly like the best God ever.” The blue Tiefling is speaking so fast you can barely keep up but the excited tone has you smiling up at her, “Did you like it? The pamphlet I mean, because obviously you like the Traveler now.” Another giggle escapes your chest, you’ve been doing that a lot more today than any other time the past year. 

“I really liked the pamphlet,” you say and somehow the blue Tiefling smile brightens, “but this drawing of mage hand giving this person a wedgie is my favorite.” Both of you break out into small laughter. 

“Oh! We haven’t introduced ourselves! We are the Mighty Nien! I’m Jester! That’s Fjord, Nott, Molly, Yasha, Caleb, Frumpkin, and the one at the table is Beau.” 

“It’s a pleasure to make you acquaintance.” You give an exaggerated bow towards the group. When you return to standing, Jester is smiling at you, while Molly and Yasha exchange a look. Fjord, Nott, Caleb, and Beau have a similar expression of confusion and something else you can’t place. 

 “What’s your name squirt?” Beau asks as she folds her arms over her chest. There is a rise of panic in your chest. When was the last time anyone asked your name? When was the last time you ever used your name? What the hell was your name?             

“Er…um..w-well,” your stammering buys you a little time to catch a breath and calm a bit before plastering on a smile, “I c-can’t give away all my secrets now can I? A kids gotta stay on their toes, ya know?” Even your well-trained smile doesn’t crack the expression on Beau’s face, her eyes piercing into you. 

“Where are your mama and dad? Won’t they be worried if you’re out this late at night? Should we go look for them? Are you lost?” Jester’s face gets closer and closer to yours with each question you ask and you can’t help the stiff panic that overtakes you. Adults that get that close to you can mean a lot of pain. 

“Jester,” the dirty man, Caleb gently says, “maybe ve ought to not badger them, ja?” Relief washes over you as Jester backs up a bit, still giddy but now not next to your face. The way your shoulders sag when you have space again does not go unnoticed by most of the group.   

“Whoever the fuck you are,” Bea grunts as she stands, “thanks kid. I owe ya.” 

“Just promise you won’t get into another bar fight for at least…three more hours and we’ll call it even.” Beau’s lip twitches ever so slightly at your sly smirk. 

“Well, were not a group to leave our debts unpaid.” The purple Tiefling, Molly says, though that statement is met with many scoffs, “How about we treat you to a meal kid, to say thanks for healing our trash person.” Just as you are about to deny, to excuse yourself back to your alleyway, your stomach gives a loud rumble. Molly and Jester laugh, and you smile sheepishly. When a hand grasps your shoulder, you can’t help but jump and spin on your heel. Your hand positioned to start casting a spell. Fjord is standing behind you, hand still raised but his face now fully that emotion you can’t place. 

“Didn’t mean ta startle ya, just thought maybe we could all find a place to sit.” There is a gentle nature to the half-orcs tone that eases your nerves. But not so much that you stow away your lute fully. The group shuffles over to a bigger table and sits while Molly and Yasha go to the bar ordering food and one last round of drinks. 

“That was a complicated spell for one so young, vere did you learn?” Caleb chose a seat a few away from yours, making it easy to look at the man as he speaks. Though Frumpkin jumping into your lap pulls your attention away from his gaze. 

“Magic is a new thing for me Mr. Caleb.” Petting Frumpkin as they purr in your lap, “I’ve been playing music for a while and one day I was watching a performer. They made all these crazy images and sparks and even made this fake dragon, and it was so cool! I decided I wanted to try so I started watching magic more carefully, ya know? Like how plucking a string or the rise of your voice can change how you make the magic flow!”  When you look up Mr. Caleb has a ghost of a smile on his lips and the others are staring at you fully. “’M sorry for talking so much.” You hunch your shoulders and bring Frumpkin closer to cover your face. 

“None of that darling,” Molly places a bowl with hunk of bread and some soup in front of you, “we asked a question, you answered. No shame in that.” He gives you a wink and starts handing out the drinks to everyone. Except for Beau who grumbles something about a meddling brat under her breath. When side conversations and drinking start, you feel safe enough to inhale the food. Forgetting how wonderful it was to have more than scraps or finger foods. You don’t slurp your soup, but you do eat it with the ravenous hunger that has been gnawing at you. Little strips of meat don’t compare to homemade soup and bread. After you finish, the group is engaged with different conversations, and you happily sit and listen.

“So anyway, Caleb asked about your magic. Did you really teach yourself? How did you learn? Is it different than other magic?” Jester is looking at you, leaning in on her hands as she smiles. There is something so disarming about her smile that you can’t help but answer. 

“I’m self-taught, mostly from watching other bards use magic.” You say, absently rubbing Frumpkin who has nestled into your lap. “As for it being more different than other magic, um, well it depends on the type of magic I guess.” 

“What about Caleb’s magic,” Nott perks up, “he’s so skilled and powerful, how is yours different than his?”

 “What kind of magic do you do Mr. Caleb?” Caleb is decidedly not looking up from his cup. 

“I-ah do transmutation.” Caleb eyes dart around the wood of the table. You know that school of arcane! You’ve seen students from Rexentrum cast all the time when you are in the city. 

“Oh okay, I think I can show you then.” Digging through your pack, you pull out your notebook. It’s a frail thing, barely having any seem left but the pages are still mostly attached to the binding. 

“Here, so one of the cantrips in transmutation is prestidigitation. When Mr. Caleb casts it, he uses this spell structure.” With a practiced hand you draw out the cantrip. Making sure the semi circle and runes are placed just so. “Then he would have to use hand motions to copy the marks to make the magic happen.” You happily turn your journal out towards the group so they can see and wiggle your fingers in a similar pattern to show them what you mean. 

“For bards though the spell is cast through our music but it’s not a one for one thing, ya know? This semi-circle doesn’t equal a c sharp, though it would be much easier if it did work like that.” You chuckle to yourself and pull out your hand drum and give it a tap with the drumstick. 

“Depending on the instrument the spell can change. Drum, for instance, follows a similar pattern as the spell. So I drag my stick across the surface than hit the places where the runes are.” You follow the pattern and cast the spell, create a small blue spark that dances on the center of the table. “But other instruments can get more trickier, see with the lute, its not notes for runes. It’s more about the…ummm…how do I say this…I guess it’s more about letting the magic feel it’s way out than based on structure? When I see a new spell, I try to feel for the energy. Then I focus on the patterns while I play. It takes some time to learn magic that way but it’s the easiest for me.” As you stash your drum back in its place, you can feel the nien staring at you. Even as you pack your journal away and look from side to side. 

Caleb has his eyebrows raised and his hand on his chin, deep in thought as he stares at you. Nott is pushing a piece of paper in front of him but not looking away from where you put your journal. Molly, Beau, and Yasha are just sort of starting with their mouths open. Fjord’s gaze is on you but not focused, as he taps the handle of his sword. Jester has a look of wonderment on her face. The amount of attention is odd, though you are used to preforming, so it doesn’t cause you much stress. 

“Um…did I talk to much?” You ask, trying to break some of the awkward quiet.  

“Damn that’s impressive for kid so small as you. How old are ya?” Molly has a half cocked grin as the rest of the nien shake themselves out of staring. 

“Oh, I’m seven sir. Well, seven and three quarters. My birthday is on the day of the new year.” You reply with a smile. Much of who you are and where you came from is gone. All you can really remember is your time with your caretaker. He told you your birthday was on the new year, and you didn’t have any way to question it, so you agreed. There had never been a celebration of course, but it was still nice to keep track. 

“You, ah, must be very smart then.” The tall women, Yashsha, manages out. Much like Caleb she doesn’t like keeping eye contact. So you don’t try to force her. 

“Not really,” You say as you boop Frumpkin on the nose, “I just like learning songs and magic.” There are a few hums and then smaller conversations break out once more. You laugh when Molly starts telling a story from his days in the circus. And every now and again you try to peek at what Caleb is writing but Nott starts showing you her small collection of buttons and rocks to distract you. Time passes in the warmth and comfort of company and soon your day starts catching up to you. Between the soup in your belly and the warmth of the tavern you can feel your eyes beginning to droop. It’s bad to be so vulnerable around so many strangers but with these folks, it just feels nice.

“I think I’ve had enough ass kicking for one night, let’s call it.” Beau stands up and stretches out her back. The rest of the group begins to follow her lead and start collecting themselves. You bundle your thin clothes as much as you can and take a deep breath. Preparing yourself for the cold.  

“Vere is your coat?” You turn and blink at the question from Caleb, the rest of the nien are looking at you, varying degrees of that emotion again you are not really sure what it is yet.

“Oh-erm,” pulling your shirt closer together, “I wasn’t wearing one when Frumpkin found me.” Sheepishly you play with a button on your shirt before you can force a smile, “I was just out for some stargazing, but my caretaker isn’t far from here, I’ll be fine until I can get to him.” Some looks are exchanged between the adults, and you take that as your cue. 

“Thanks for the soup! And remember Ms. Beau, not fighting for at least another…twenty-three minutes.” Beau groans loudly as you give her a smile then wave to the rest of the group, making your way from the inn. There are not so hushed voices as you leave, but you ignore what is being said and start back towards your alleyway. Cold was much more shocking now, your breath clinging to the air. Morning was still a few hours away, so a quick nap before searching for your caretaker is the best bet. He probably won’t rouse until early afternoon anyways. Shivering you stretch back out into your spot once again. 

It feels like you just took a blink when you wake again. Your nose is runny and body stiff with freezing cold as you listen to the growing chatter of the town. Daylight brings some comfort of warmth as you manage to stretch your limbs back into place. Strolling into the day, you pull out the skewer of meat and much on it. There’s no way for you to find your caretaker so you mill about for a few hours. Morning turns into afternoon as you traverse Zadash and all its’ backstreets. Between inns and taverns, you don’t make much progress until you see a snoring crumpled form propped up against some crates. The stench of ale and piss hit you. Yup, that’s your caretaker alright. Heaving a sigh you pull your flute from your ragged pack. A quick upbeat tune begins as you let your magic ease and flow with the short notes. With a final little hop you let your magic wash over your caretaker. 

You had picked a non-touch spell, hoping that would be enough, that the distance would be too much of an effort, but this was not the case. A large meaty hand smacks you hard in the face and you tumble to the ground into the street. The throbbing in your face means you will be sporting a bruise come night fall. Your caretaker staggers out of the alley way and looms over you. Instinctually you curl into a tight ball with your arms over your head waiting for the worst of it. Yet it never comes, instead you hear a strangled choking noise. Summoning all your courage you peak up from your covered form and look up. Your caretaker stands pale and wide eyed at something behind you. Turning you see the might nien with weapons and spells drawn. 

“Guten Tag.” Caleb says with a fierce look in his eyes, a fire spell held in his palm.

“I think it’s in your best interest to walk away, friend.” Fjord has his weapon out, the heavy accent thicker than last night. Your caretaker looks at each one of the faces then his beety eyes look down at you. 

“Get up runt, we’re leaving.” He grumbles. You untangle your limbs and hurriedly stand but are stopped by a gentle hand taking some of your fingers. The flinch that goes through you does not deter the hand. Nott is standing at your side, gripping on to you tightly. A crossbow pointed at your now stammering caretaker. 

“Back the fuck up before I shoot your eye out.” The high snarl and seeing the skin clearly, Nott is a goblin. Part of you should be concerned about that but at least the mask makes a bit more sense now. Your caretaker huffs.

“Take the runt, they’re not worth the space they take up.” grumbling your caretaker spins on their heel and bolts down the alleyway. Just like that, you no longer have a caretaker. He just left you. A deep sense of shock overtakes you, he just left you here with a group of people he has never met. Your caretaker never cared about you. There was a part of you that always knew but now it was slapping you in the face. Absently you squeeze the hand that is still wrapped around yours. 

“Hey,” Jesters’ voice is soft and sweet, “would you like me to heal that for you?” Her hands are outstretched so you can see them, she is still a safe distance away, waiting for you to consent. With a small nod you keep your body stiff as she gets closer. With a gentle touch and a soft hum of green light that smells like cinnamon, the hurt in your cheek fades. The hands don’t leave your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need that prick. You have us now.” Her voice is so sweet, her touch is so gentle as she holds your face. You look into her soft and wet eyes and realize you are crying. Seven is too old to cry, your caretaker had told you that. But the soft quiet tears keep coming as you stare at this Tiefling. It has been years since you have been held so gently. Without a second thought you throw your free arm around Jesters’ neck. Soon there are two arms wrapped around you and lifting you up. Cradling you against her neck. Jester holds you close, letting the pain and loneliness of your life ease out through your tears. You have never felt so safe before, you have never felt this kind of comfort before. 

[masqueradeassane]

My Finale Fanfic Attempt

[a-write-for-soreeyes]

Marry Me? [caleb widogast x reader]

Caleb Widogast x Reader - MUSIC FIC

[with Platonic!Mighty Nein x Reader]

The song is “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” from ‘How to Train Your Dragon 2’ followed right behind by “The Skye Boat Song” from ‘Outlander’ bc I feel as though it really fits with the end of the fic and all of the feels it gives me.I’ve had this idea forming in my head for a while now and I decided to just go for it and write it, it does contain spoilers for a character after ep. 27 of campaign 2.

You know the rules, y/n = your name, h/c = hair colour, s/c = skin colour

Also I have no idea how to write accents so just imagine I wrote Caleb’ accent well.

Fic Word Count - 1710 (aprox.)

(When you should start the song I’ll put a little ‘s’ in brackets to let you know)

Italics means lyrics and bold + italics means that multiple are singing at once.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Battles can be easily won, but they are not so easily forgotten. We lost so many people on the way to defeating the dark forces that kept a grasp on our world. We had seen so much together, and we had lost so much together. But we were still standing, well some of us were, Fjord had taken a few too many hits and was getting healed by Jester, while Yasha, Beau and Nott were patching eachother up across from me.

After the final battle we had decided to walk to the nearest town before setting up camp just outside the perimeter of the town untouched by the battle that was raging but a few hours ago, rather than find and inn in town and scare the locals with just how bloodied and beaten we all were.

Taking off my boots and socks I stretched out my feet, then started to wipe the dirt and blood from my face, trying to rid myself of the grime even though I knew it was a losing battle. Hearing the sound of heavy footsteps on the grass come up next to me I knew who it was instantly.

“y/n? Can we talk about what I asked before what just happened, happened?” I looked over to the right of me, where the voice had originated from and saw Caleb standing there looking shyley at the ground, back up to me and then back down once again. Giving him a quick nod I scooched over on the fallen log I was sitting at and let him sit down next to me. 

“I’m sorry I sprung the question on you just before we were about to head right into battle but…” I felt him turn towards me eyes burning into the side of my face, “but I couldn’t look death in the eyes and not know if you wanted to spend the rest of our lives together.” He licked his chapped lips before turning back towards the flickering flame and continuing “ And if one of us didn’t walk out of there, I couldn’t live with not knowing the answer to that question.” 

I turned towards him and letting loose pieces of my h/c hair fall into my face and taking in the state of the man beside me. Tears welling in his eyes, hair a mangled mess, dirt and some blood that he couldn’t seem to wipe off still on his face, clothes tattered and shaking slightly, as though the adrenaline from hours earlier had yet to wear off. Looking back to the fire now warming my s/c face I took a look around at our friends. They were bloodied, battered, and bruised. I looked over at Caleb expectantly waiting for him to say anything at all, and just as he was about too he was cut off.

From my left I heard the sound. It started quietly, just a giggle before becoming louder and other voices soon joined. Laughter. Jester must have said something to the rest of the  group that had accumulated across from Caleb and I, as they were cracking up and leaning on each other for support tears coming to their eyes and slowly rolling down their now cleaned faces. A much different reason for the tears on their cheeks from a few hours ago when we were in the heat of battle. (S) “Heh, look at them, always ones to fund the bright side even after seeing as much as we just have.” Caleb let out a breathy laugh and continued to watch the group joke with each other.

“Caleb?” I asked, not turning to look at the redhead next to me, “I wanna get married to you.” I uttered softly as I looked around at the rest of our small family, joking and laughing, sometimes a bit too hard and cringing at the pain that shot from different areas from where they had been hurt and only recently healed.  Instead of an answer I heard Caleb start to whistle softly, so much so that the sound almost got lost in the light wind around us.

“I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with never a fear of drowning.” Looking over at Caleb I saw him lost in what I could only assume was his own memories, “And gladly ride the waves of life…” Caleb turned towards me, suddenly looking straight into my eyes as he said, “If you will marry me.” letting a small smirk slip on to his scruffy bearded face. I recognize what he was singing almost immediately. It was a wedding song that Molly had sung to us one night when we couldn’t sleep, we too excited for the day ahead to come, thinking that it would be an easy mission, only for us to lose Molly before the fight had even ended.  Seeing the tears in his eyes reflect the light of the flames he continued to softly sing to me, “No scorching sun, nor freezing cold will stop-” 

“Will stop me on my journey! Sorry.” Fjord called out as he sung (extremely) off key distracting Caleb and I from getting lost to each other and calling our attention to the group that was now staring at us expantly. 

Slowly turning my face back to him, gently Caleb continued “If you will promise me your heart. And love-” He let out a shaky breath and tried to gather himself in hopes to stop himself from crying. Wiping his tears I took his face in my hands softly. 

“And love me for eternity,” I continued as my voice cracked feeling all the emotions I had tried so hard to suppress about Molly’ death start to arise. “My dearest one, my darlin’ dear,” there was music suddenly coming from the left of Caleb and I, only to see Nott making magical instruments appear and start to play the tune, “your mighty words astound me.” grabbing his rough hands in mine I started once again, “But i’ve no need of mighty deeds, when I feel your arms,” Hoisting Caleb up and out of his seat next to me I swung him around trying to dance through the tears in our eyes, the pain from our sore bodies and the laughter that came tumbling out of us, “Around me!” 

Hearing the instruments pick up in time with Caleb and I’ terrible festival dancing, “But I would bring you rings of gold, and even sing you poetry-”, “Oh would you!” Beau yelled as we passed our group of friends.

“And I would keep you from all harm, if you would stay beside me!” Around us the small clearing started to light up with thousands of fireflies swirling around the camp above us in strings and start to light up the trees, bushes and colourful flowers that surrounded all of us. Seeing Beau grab Yasha’ hand and start dancing, and Nott, Jester and Fjord all join hands to start spinning around the fire with Caleb and I. 

Halting the dancing for just a moment we all stepped back from our partners we bowed to each other, “I have no use for rings of gold,” sliding our hands up and against one another before crossing them back to back and the palm to palm once again, “I care not for your poetry,” hearing Caleb let out a small chuckle we started to spin in small circles before continuing around the bonfire that had grown slightly bigger since the beginning of the dance casting shadows along the trees of our figures dancing, feeling the soft grass between my toes and the grace of Caleb and I’ hands just slightly brushing against each other, “I only want to hold your hand,” Caleb let our a loud laugh at that, and I could feel his warm breath heating my face even more that the fire next to us did.

“I only want you near me,” the redhead continued.

Now grabbing my raised right hand in his left and gripping my waist with his right, my left came up to rest on his broad shoulder, we sang in harmony “To love and kiss, to sweetly hold. For the dancin’ and the dreamin’!” Letting out squeals of delight as he lifted me up and my cape swung around us. “Through all the sorrows and delights,” now hearing the rest of the Nein start singing along and whooping and hollering at the moves that were so effortlessly flowing out of us all, “I’ll keep your love beside me,” feeling ourselves start to run out of breath the music picked up tempo, “I’ll swim and sail on savage seas, with ne’er a fear of drowning,” Dipping up and down quickly along with the music we all swung ourselves wildly about, trying desperately to hold onto each other, “And gladly ride the waves of life, if you will marry me!” Finally halting and pressing our foreheads together everyone panted heavily and let out loud belts of laughter except for Fjord who continued to hold the final note, “MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE, I’M STILL GOINNNNNGGGGG.  I’m done.” Every one of us laughing wildly at the antics that had just insured, only halting as Caleb bent down on one knee and pulled out a small pouch dropping two simple gold bands into his open palm and slowly looking up at me, “so? Will you? Marry me I mean.” He looked expantley at me as though I’d change my answer after everything that we had been through in the past few years and the extravagant dancing that we just did. “Yes. I will marry you Caleb Widogast.” I exclaimed happily as the rest of the grouped whooped and hollered and yelled cries of joy into the night sky. 

Slowly he slipped the cold, gold band onto my ring finger and myself doing the same to him we looked at eachother, just basking in the comfort that the fire, and the sound of the terrible singing of our friends, of our family gave us before leaning in for a soft kiss, that only lasted but a moment before Nott started to make throwing up noises causing Caleb and myself to let out a small chuckle.

“You know I love you, right?”

“Ja. I love you too.”

[limpblotter]

WIP of the night because I am a helpless fuck

His fingers twitched between pages, calloused and dirty tips clasping the thin parchments as his mind took only one look over before grasping each word immediately. Reading was that simple, a look, a once over, thats all Caleb needed to recall each phrase and point. 

He could recall other things that he didn’t read. He could recall that vivid purple hue that colored his flesh. He could recall those crimson, blood shot eyes and how fierce they were. How that surface level facade of confidence and charisma, how it was an egg shell protecting the interior. He could almost see that grin at the forefront of his mind, those coy, cheeky lips pulled back, teeth shining as bright as the gems adorned on his pompous horns and-- 

“Still reading, aye?” Molly leaned against the doorframe. “Must be a good one, what’s it about?” 

In that moment Caleb had realized for the first time in a long time he hadn’t passed the page he just finished. He was pulled from his reading and was lost in his thoughts, thoughts shaped just like the tiefling before him. 

“Ja, nothing...nothing just you know...something...magical...” 

[shoeboxgoblin]

Critical Role Word Vomit

You know,,, there was definitely a time in vox machina's story where they were little shits who didn't trust each other and told lies about their backstories and ran low level scams on people because they didn't like them. When we met vm, they were like level 9. They had a keep in emon and a spot on the council of tal'dorei and like. Capital R Responsibilities. They were a family who relied on each other and trusted each other and had a history with each other. They had to deal with the accountability of being semi-public figures. But there was Definitely a time where they were low-level assholes killing shit for money.

I've seen people talk about a "tone shift" from the first campaign to the second, and I don't think that's entirely incorrect. They're telling a different story this time around. But also try and keep in mind that this is a game of dungeons and dragons, and if you aren't getting into shenanigans at level 3 you never will. Most dnd parties start out as a group of assholes killing shit for money. Vox machina started out that way. The Mighty Nien (holy shit that name tho) don't need to be an awesome Adventuring Party yet. Let them be a pile of garbage until they figure themselves out.

On the other hand why is there not like a million fanfictions about vox machina back in pre-emon garbage squad S.H.I.T.S era. Still figuring each other out. Not sure if they trust these assholes yet. Lame powers because they're like level 5. Blissfully unaware of how much they're about to mean to each other

[kward-the-local-cryptid]

Protect

Child!Reader Critical Role Fanfiction 

Child reader and their sister is found by Fjord, Yasha, and Beau in an orphanage workhouse.   

Trigger warnings: Child Neglect, Wounded Child, and Mentions of Blood. 

There is a distinct ringing in your ears as you clutch the sword in front of you in a death grip. Even with blood pouring down your face and your arms shaking with exertion, you keep the sword pointing at this new person. Marianna lets a quiet whimper behind you. That sound only makes your grip stronger as the intruder regards you with wide eyes.

This stranger in the doorway is the largest woman you have ever seen. Her stock white hair falls in braids and dreads mixed with a few dried flowers woven here and there. One light greenish blue eye and one violet stay focused on your shaking form. No doubt you look like a mess. Four days, they had kept you in the workhouse basement for four days without food, water, or sunlight. The monsters running the orphanage made sure to put all the kids to work. If you didn’t get enough done, you were punished with more work. Four days ago you had finished all your work, but little Marianna had not. She is only four barley even forming full sentences and still they would deny her food if she couldn’t finish the days tasks. When you saw the foreman dragging her to the small basement to be locked in with more clothes to sew, you kicked him in the shins. He grabbed you and threw you both in. Marianna wasn’t family by blood but in the few months she had been here, you knew it was your job to protect her. Protect her like the family you never had. Protect her like an older sibling is supposed to protect their little sister.

So here you stand, shaking but furious. With a blunted sword pointing at the stranger who has now sunk to her knees. You will not let anyone hurt Marianna. The wounded foreman in the corner your proof. Tears are falling without your permission as the stranger keeps staring. Eight going on nine was too old to cry but you couldn’t help it. You never had hurt anybody like that and it scared you. But it did not matter. Protecting Marianna was all that mattered in the whole world.

“Yasha, we’ve cleared the upstairs. Anything down-” A half-orc stops behind the woman called Yasha. Blinking you try to keep your thoughts on fighting but this is the first time you have seen another half orc besides yourself. He has the same green skin and yellow eyes like you. His tusks are grown in and sharp. Only your left tusk remains in tack, the other completely gone. Replaced with a scar that travels from your bottom lip to just under your chin. For a quiet moment you simply regard each other before you feel a small hand grab onto your elbow.   Marianna has moved from her spot on the floor to pressed up against your side. Her purple skin looks much too pale, she needs food and water quickly. Light purple eyes meet yours before looking back to the doorway. Her hard horns press into your side but you don’t mind the twinge it brings to your ribs. She makes no sound just keeps her eyes on the new people. Fear written all over her face. You must keep her safe. When you look back to the strangers you try to put on your bravest face. Raising the sword as high as you can in front of your chest.

“Are-are you friend or foe?” Your voice waivers as you look back to the strangers. You had read that line in a book once, it felt right in this moment.

“We’re friendly…little one. We’re here to help.” Yahsa’s voice is deep but there is such a softness to it that melts the tension in your chest. “We want to get all the children away from this place.” Surprise fills you and the sword lowers as your arms shake more intensely now.

“You mean it?” you whisper, afraid if you speak any louder somehow this moment will disappear. The half orc nods, and Yasha slowly rocks onto her heels. She doesn’t stand, just moves into a crouch.  

“We are here to take you away. Someplace better.” Yahsa keeps her hands visible and her voice soft. You want to trust her. By any Gods listening you want this to be real. Yet you keep your grip on the sword.

“Do you promise?” Marianna’s voice is painfully horse and her grip on your elbow stays firm. You watch as a small sad smile forms on Yasha lips.

“I promise. We want to take you somewhere safe.” She seems so genuine. Your gaze lifts to the half orc. His eyes harden and he gives you a solemn nod, and that’s all you need. The sword clatters to the ground and you sway but refuse to fall. Your free hands immediately reach for Marianna, who clutches onto your neck as you lift her. You aren’t much bigger than she is, but there is no way you are letting her out of your sight any time soon. With a deep breath you step forward.

Yasha slides from the doorway to let you pass as you carry your sister up the stairs. Still shaking, it takes longer than it should but when you finally reach the door, your own exhaustion doesn’t matter. Sunlight burns your eyes as you walk out of the workhouse. It hurts but it’s worth every blinding second. Warmth tingling on your skin as you can see the ocean. Waves crashing down against the sand. Seagulls cawing angrily in the sky. Distant sounds of the city flitting through the breeze with just the tiniest hint of cinnamon. Tears spring from your eyes as the world comes back to you.  

“Look Mari,” your voice thick and painful in your chest, “it’s the ocean.” Marianna peeks up and looks about. Before she can say anything she lets out a squeak and buries her head back into your neck clutching more tightly. You follow where here eyes went. Another woman in blue robes that look very different from any style you have seen is walking towards you. Though as you take a step back, you realize she is glancing between you and Yasha. Most likely a friend too.

“They were both in the warehouse. No other children.” Yasha reaches out and the new woman grips her hand, before turning back to you.

“How long were you in that shithole?” the blunt use of swearing is nothing new to you but it does illicit a small giggle from Marianna.

“F-four days. No food or water.” Both women look horrified, “Please, Marianna needs food and water. I can work for her share just-” As you try to finish, the new woman is crouching down in front of you, close enough that you tense and turn Marianna away from her.

“It’s alright kid, I know a bit of healing. I just need to take a look at you both. Swear I won’t do anything to hurt you on purpose. I’m not that much of an asshole…anymore.” With a tentative nod you relax your stance and turn so she can see you both.

“I’m Beau.” She says as she slowly uses her hands to inspect Marianna for any wounds where there are blood stains. Nothing is bleeding on her, but there are more than a fair share of bruises.

“Y/N.” you give back as you keep your eyes glued on Beau, making sure she won’t do anything other than look you both over for injuries, “This is Marianna.” Beau gives a nod and reaches her hand up to your face. Involuntarily you flinch. Based on how hard the foreman hit you, you’re pretty sure your nose is broken. Which would explain the amount of blood covering your face.

“You’ll both be alright but we should get you somewhere with food, water, and beds yeah?” Beau asks. It’s odd. You’ve never really been asked if it’s okay to go somewhere.

“What will I have to do to earn it, ma’am?” Beau shakes her head.

“Nah kid you got it wrong. You don’t need to earn the basics for living. Just trust us for an afternoon or two while we figure this out and that will be all we need from you.” Beau seems genuine like Yasha. Even as the half-orc comes grunting up the stairway, dragging the foreman up the stairs, you feel safe.

“Why don’t I carry you both to town?” Yasha says.

“You can carry both of us?” Marianna asks with awe.

“She real fuckin strong.” Beua gives you both a halfcocked grin. Marianna giggles again, which makes Yasha and Beau smile. With a nod, you allow Yasha to pick both of you up, Marianna still wrapped in your arms. It has been a good long while since you have been held by anyone that wasn’t smaller than you. As Yasha walks forward, with Beau and the half-orc close behind, you lean into the large woman and close your eyes. Finally letting the past few days fall away into blissful sleep.