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sociallyawkwardfoxwriter · 3 years

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Febuwhump 2021

Day 17. Hostage Situation

With a hiss of annoyance, Avantika released her hold on Fjord's armor in favor of disappearing from sight. When he didn't hear a splash, he quickly whipped around to see his worst fear come to life. The gleam of a wicked dagger pressed against the delicate skin of Caleb's throat as he stood completely still in Avantika's arms. Her lips twisted into a cruel smile at the same time she dug the blade hard enough to break the skin.

“I have to say, I've been looking forward to this. You can make things easy by handing it over and coming with me, or we can do this the difficult way.”

“Let him go. He doesn't have anything to do with this.”

“Oh, we both know that's a lie. You think I don't know he's the one that figured out my journal? The one you used to betray me. Remember that?” She dug the blade deeper, causing the blood to well and slowly drip. “Not to mention, all the fire and the annoying spell that prevented me from putting it out to get to all of you. This one is quite the plan destroyer, wouldn't you say? I think it wise to get him off the playing board, unless you'd rather make this easy.”

“What is your plan?”

“It's a trade. His life for the orb and you. What will it be, Fjord?”

While he wanted to immediately reject her offer, his eyes flicking down to meet Caleb's blue eyes caused him to hold his tongue. The hint of terror he was trying his best to disguise behind a blank wall of determination caused his heart to squeeze painfully in his chest. Everything he'd done to her had been for Fjord, and he'd worn the orb that Uk'otoa desperately wanted around his neck. He put Caleb in this position.

“You're considering it for him.” The smile grew a little darker as she tightened her grip on the dagger. “Would you give it all up for him? How romantic.”

A spray of blood flew through the air as the dagger sliced through Caleb's throat so quickly Fjord barely saw it. The light in his eyes dimmed to nothing and the steady movement of his chest came to a halt. The hands around him released sending his limp body to the deck of the ship without a care for where he landed.

With a roar of fury, Fjord launched himself the remaining distance between them to bring the Star Razor down on Avantika. Anticipating her stepping out of the way, he arched it through the air in a path that made it unavoidable. The extra punch of the divine magic pumping into her sent her stumbling a step back. His second strike embedded between her shoulder and throat with a sickening thud.

When she flicked out a dagger to try to drive him back, he brought up his forearm to let it bounce harmlessly off his bracer. Her next attack was parried away by his blade as he stepped forward to cut the distance between them to nothing. Rather than take a strike with the Star Razor, his hand snapped out to grab her by the throat and lifted her off her feet. He slammed her against the door to the captain’s quarters, then stabbed his sword through her chest.

As she began to take a wild swing at him, he released his hold on her neck allowing gravity to do the work. With her toes barely brushing the ground, she tried to reach him with the sword, but only succeeded in letting the sword cut further up. Before she could try anything else, he gripped the hilt of the sword and ripped it out and up. He used the momentum to swing it back around to bisect her right through the abdomen.

His chest heaved from exertion as he let the Star Razor fall to the deck next to the bottom half of Avantika's body. After a few shaky steps, he dropped to his knees next to Caleb's body, then carefully lifted him into his arms. Blood still flowed freely from the deep gash across his neck onto his new winter gear and the deck. He brought his body tighter into his chest and pressed a kiss to the top of his head as he fought back tears.

A shadow fell across him that ended up being Caduceus dropping to his knees to press a diamond to Caleb. The warmth of the Wildmother surrounded them for a moment, then Caleb burst to life in his arms. His hand reached up to clutch at Fjord's arm and he blinked up at Fjord in confusion.

“What happened?”

“It's not a problem anymore.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2021 #febuwhumpday17 #critical role #widofjord #fjord #caleb widogast #avantika #temporary character death #blood #bisection #prompt fill #fanfic

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falchioned · 4 years

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@villianess said : ❝ it’s still you though, right? ❞ - AVANTIKA but when she joins tmn

salty wind in his hair as the ship glides across the water. the sound of the ocean skimming against the hull of the ship. the smell of brine filling his lungs, the call of seabirds sounds overhead. fjord closes his eyes and the situation is familiar, so familiar he can almost pretend he is on the tide’s breath, he can almost hear vandran’s voice call out over the rushing water. two hands wrap around a coarse halyard and fjord pulls hard. his muscles strain with the effort and the rope burns his palms as the sail is hoisted into the air. its binding is soon untied, and with a might flap, it opens. the sailor in front of fjord turns and catches his eye, a look of determination on his face that matches fjord’s own. keeping a tight grip on the halyard, fjord fastens the rope to the starboard side of the main mast. carefully the cleat hitch is tied, and in his mind he can almost hear vandran direct him sternly through the process. once the knot is tied, he looks up just as vandran, brow furrowed, standing at the bow, raises his gaze from the letter in his hand. vandran’s eyes find the secured halyard, then meets fjord’s own. vandran gives him a nigh-imperceptible nod and pride fills fjord. he breaks into a wide grin, exposing newly filed tusks.

he takes a deep breath of cold air and suddenly he’s somewhere else.

fjord stands on the deck of a different ship. a large and imposing pirate vessel, easily twice the size of the tide’s breath and twice as fast. the afternoon sun has sunken to the horizon, casting an orange glow across the deck. storm clouds gather ahead, darkened in the diminishing light. they begin their slow crawl across the sky, approaching the squall-eater unhurriedly. fjord holds his hand out, and with a flash of light, the weight of a sword dripping with saltwater falls into it. he takes a few swings and the falchion’s hooked blade cuts through the air. fjord allows a moment’s pause as he lifts the blade to inspect it more fully. barnacles cover its hilt and creep up the blade. embedded above the cross-guard is a yellow eye, its slit iris staring up at him with a gaze that pierces his very being. grow, provoke, consume. the wind whistles in his ears as the ship picks up speed. they must be getting close. he releases the sword and it disappears with a flash of light, similarly to when it was summoned. fjord looks up, at the helm of the ship. his eyes follows a figure as she moves away from the wheel and onto the main deck. she’s about to step past him when he catches her right arm, his hand on her bicep. solemnly he speaks her name. ❝ avantika. ❞ fjord’s hand slips away from her bicep and takes ahold of her forearm, just below her elbow so that her hand meets his forearm in turn. ❝ in the vision i had last night, uk’otoa said to me . . . ❞ he swallows hard, his eyes never leaving hers. ❝ watching. reward. release. ❞ the mere memory sends a chill through him, as though his body is still suspended in the cold seawater against his skin, as though it’s still in his lungs. he can practically see the enormous eye before him, oppressive and alluring all at once. ❝ we’re ready for this, i know we are. we’ll do it together. ❞ fjord releases her and steps back. he summons the sword and stares down once more at the eye within it. the iris never wavers, never looks away. he’s never felt so . . . watched. he looks up as avantika makes her way to the bow of the ship. she tosses him a look over her shoulder. he smiles, then runs his tongue over the stubby, growing tusks in his mouth. he’s never felt more seen. he releases the sword, allowing it to disappear as he moves to join her at the bow and embrace the storm.

he releases a breath and suddenly he is someone else.

he is standing at the helm of a ship, the sun sunken below the horizon. the darkness is vast but comforting. loosely he holds wheel of the ship in his hands, only occasionally turning it to steady the ship’s course. stars glitter overhead, and clouds drift by slowly. the moon illuminates the deck in a soft glow. beau is perched in the crow’s nest, gazing out at the ocean before them. leaning against the main mast, yasha flips silently through her book, looking at all the new flowers she’s collected. veth curls into caleb’s side below deck. jester draws in her sketchbook by lamplight in her quarters, recounting the day’s events to her the traveler. caduceus meditates cross-legged on his bed. at the helm, fjord speaks in a voice that is entirely his own, and he finishes explaining his newly-forged pact with the wildmother. ❝ she said, my boon is yours. and it is in our nature to adapt. come. and i . . . ❞ he pauses. the memory is not cold like the seawater of uk’otoa’s vision, it does not steal the breath from his lungs. it’s warm and gentle. it feels like an embrace, like the home he’s always wanted, the home he had in his friends and on the sea. the seaweed that encased him in the wildmother’s vision was not restraining, it was healing. ❝ and, well . . . i was pulled under the water. the others found me the next morning wrapped in seaweed, like the vision. next thing i knew, i had some of my power back. ❞ there’s a beat of silence as he reflects on his words, considers the situation. ❝ listen, i know how crazy this must sound, ❞ he looks avantika in the eyes, searching her face to gauge her reaction. as always, her expression is enigmatic. ❝ and i’m not suggesting you form a pact with the wildmother, but . . . ❞ he trails off. ❝ i’m trying to say that there are other paths for you. there were for me. ❞

the silence that follows is nearly deafening. caduceus had been an invaluable guiding hand in the days following fjord’s broken pact. with his help, fjord found freedom, a new purpose. he was able to sever ties with his patron and forge a new identity in the wildmother. when he was lost, caduceus showed him the way. when he was afraid, caduceus calmed his fears. now, avantika is in a situation not unlike his own, and all he wants is to help her the way caduceus helped him. with his words, he could have made her situation even —

she speaks, snapping him from his thoughts.

❝ it’s still you though, right? ❞

he blinks, surprise stalling any immediate comprehensible reply. fjord looks up, calling to the crow’s nest. ❝ beau! take over for me, will you? ❞

❝ sure. ❞ she leaps from the crow’s nest and slows her fall, landing with a little more than a quiet tap of her feet meeting the deck. beau takes the wheel just as fjord steps away from the helm, patting her shoulder once with a nod of thanks.

fjord’s attention returns to avantika. ❝ come with me. ❞ he leads her to the bow of the ship and sits down, patting the space across from him in an offer for avantika to do the same. his brow knits. ❝ avantika, of course it’s still me. ❞ he leans forward, earnestness in his voice. ❝ i know a lot has changed, but . . . ❞ he holds her gaze though guilt settles in his stomach like a stone. ❝ i remember what it was like to follow uk’otoa. i remember what it was like to be part of your crew. i still remember what it’s like to be your friend. that hasn’t changed. i . . . ❞ slowly, carefully, he takes her arm in his. he holds her forearm and rests his hand just below her elbow. fjord’s voice and expression softens. ❝ i want to help you, avantika. i never meant to make you feel as though i’d changed so drastically. ❞ he allows a moment’s pause before a small grin reveals tusks almost fully grown. ❝ besides, i still have that large hat you gave me, ❞ he speaks with some measure of faux-pride. ❝ so how drastically could i have changed? ❞

#this got ! way longer than i thought !#this took me several hours ngl #if some things are unclear: the letter vandran has is the one av sent to him!#the storm coming is when they’re on their way to the third temple!#& the hat is a reference to their inside joke thing ! :)#* 𝘕𝘌𝘐𝘛𝘏𝘌𝘙 𝘖𝘍 𝘜𝘚 𝘞𝘐𝘓𝘓 𝘉𝘌 𝘔𝘐𝘚𝘚𝘌𝘋. 〉captain avantika ︰ @villianess #* 𝘍𝘑𝘖𝘙𝘋 & 𝘈𝘝𝘈𝘕𝘛𝘐𝘒𝘈’𝘚 𝘚𝘖𝘈𝘗 𝘖𝘗𝘌𝘙𝘈 〉 @villianess

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rosellaortiz · 4 years

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Fjord a bottom.

On episode 40-42 with captain Avantika. Fjord a bottom, he's a baby but he is a bottom. Especially in episode 42, during Nott and Jester 'breaking' into Avantika's quarters.

#critical role #criticalrole #cr fjord

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wakkowraith · 5 years

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For the first sentence fic thing: "How does it end?"

“How does it end?”

Nott asked him first, way back when, peering over his shoulder as he studiously wrote in a journal that clearly wasn’t his spell book. Small talk as they waited for the crownsguards to pass by again so Nott can pick the lock of their cell.

He shrugged. He had only written the first four pages so far. “It’ll end when it ends.”

Nott hummed as a response, just as the guard passed by. Once he rounded the corner, she had her tools out and clumsily slid them in the lock. Caleb shut the book and tucked it safely in his harness, and began prepping for their escape.

“How does it end?”

Jester asked him next, the nosy tiefling with no boundaries. He had been writing at the tavern when Nott caught the eye of the table across from them and their three new acquaintances introduced themselves.

Caleb wasn’t sure entirely how to explain how he thought it would end, and he almost admitted it to Jester, who seemed to pull at something familial within him, when another, bright purple tiefling interrupted and the thought was lost.

“How does it end?”

Molly had asked on one of their longer trips across the Empire, Kiri in the seat beside him. She mimicked in his cadence, “How does it end?”

Caleb knew how it would end, but he couldn’t say it in front of a child. Instead, he closed the book and secured it with its leather strap. Poking Kiri’s beak, he said, “It ends with a little birdy coming home to her family.”

Kiri chirped happily, but Molly eyed him with a look that didn’t quite believe Caleb but wasn’t too interested in finding out why. It didn’t matter, anyway. The cart pulled to a stop and the topic was dropped.

“How does it end?”

He was writing furiously by the late fire and didn’t even know Beauregard was awake. She watched from her cocoon of blankets, bags under her eyes, the sting of loss weighing heavily over them all. Nott was curled into a ball with her back to them but Caleb couldn’t be sure if she was entirely asleep. Keg, however, was snoring the loudest, right beside Nila.

“It ends the same way everything else does,” He said in a rough whisper. His fingernails still had dirt underneath them.

Beau didn’t say anything else, and neither of them slept.

“How does it end?”

Caduceus had asked, long after joining them, on one of their rare, calm nights. The Lavish Chateau had provided them with a meal that rivaled anything Caleb had had in months. He had finished with spell work and moved on to updating his book, which he hadn’t touched in a long time. His last entry was a mess of barely legible Zemnian, some Common, and smeared ink.

“It’ll end with my death,” Caleb answered honestly, because Caduceus could tell what he was thinking anyway.

Instead of the expected argument, Caduceus hummed. “Eventually, everything ends in death. I’m not sure if people need stories to remind them of that.” He paused to take a sip of tea. “I don’t think you need to remind yourself of that either, Mr. Caleb.”

Then he left, and Caleb was alone with his book, his quill in the air as Caduceus’ words echoed in his mind.

“How does it end?”

Yasha asked quietly, her tone soft but unusually vulnerable. He had been writing below the deck of the ship, seeking peace, especially after the rain began to fall. He was going back and crossing out details of the past few months that he’d rather forget; the sting of jealousy that he kept carefully hidden had influenced his writing, and he put Avantika in a worse light than he intended. Although, a petty part of him wanted to keep his original descriptions, even if it was dishonest.

Yasha had sat across from him, soaked to the bone, and quietly pulled out her own leather bound journal. He watched while not-watching, as she carefully flipped from page to page of pressed flowers.

Something had happened, but Caleb couldn’t ask when Yasha was in a state like this. Instead, he said, “I do not know, yet.”

She nodded, like she understood, and they went back to their books.

“How does it end?”

Fjord had asked, stunted, a bit of uneasy small talk after Caleb had cornered him in his new room the day before. They were alone at breakfast, and he was nervous, and Caleb had become enchanted by the warlock as of late, though when he looked back on it, it really had been in the works for quite a while. His quill had paused in his mindless writings so he could admire the warm green that colored Fjord’s face.

He could say how he wanted it to end. He could say it ends with a kiss and a promise, cut palm to cut palm, of a partnership that survives fire and ice. He could say it ends with an oddball family, scraped and bruised and beaten, but whole.

Instead, he says, “In something that lasts, I hope.”

He doesn’t miss the minuscule nod, or the small smile that briefly passes over Fjord’s face, but especially the dim gold eyes that meet his and says more than can be said.

Then Nott and her husband enter the room and the moment does not break, but is set aside for now.

“How does it end?”

Yeza startled him out of his thoughts. The house was particularly empty today, with most of their crew out to the market. Yeza wanted to stay behind in the alchemy lab, and Caleb intended to scribe his spells, but got distracted by his own thoughts.

“If it’s too personal, I apologize,” Yeza continued when Caleb looked up from his journal.

“Do not worry about it.” Caleb considered closing up the book, but instead dipped his quill into the inkwell. “It is....an autobiography of sorts.”

Yeza nodded. “I think I read something like that once. Something about adventures. You guys go on a lot of those, you must have a lot to write about.”

“I suppose.” The adventures he had noted in the book make up almost three quarters of the journal. He had hoped to find a way to wrap this piece up, but the Mighty Nein was not going to settle down anytime soon.

“If you write about Veth,” Yeza said, hesitantly. “Will you write her as brave? ‘Cause she is, and she deserves to see herself that way.”

Caleb’s smile softened. He had already written about Nott, and his honest feelings about her - but Yeza raised a question on if he would ever publish such a personal piece.

He said, “Of course,” and Yeza returned it with a grateful smile.

“How does it end?”

Caleb hadn’t realized Essik had arrived and found his way to the library of their home until the drow himself was perched over his shoulder, reading along as Caleb wrote. He put the quill down but kept the journal open, despite his every sense telling him to put it away, safe.

“I will find out,” Caleb said, honestly, and Essik leaned closer, reading the few comments in Common and frowning slightly at the majority of Zemnian.

“You certainly put in the effort,” Essik noted, and his startling, bright yellow eyes met Caleb’s with a fanged smirk. “I’d like to see that effort put elsewhere, however.”

Before Caleb could decipher Essik’s odd statements (during their sessions, he often played the game ‘am I being threatened or flirted with’ and it was always a gamble), he caught a silhouette in the door. Looking up, he found another set of eyes watching them, a stony expression that barely restrained the discomfort on Fjord’s face, before he turned and continued down the hall.

Beside him, Essik said, “Hm. I didn’t know he was still there.”

He asked himself, “How does it end?”

He thought he knew, once. A child dreams of a house on a hill, a ring on his finger, his own kids and his own cat. He dreams he’ll name his cat Frumpkin.

A teenager dreams of fighting for his country, of flinging spells off his fingertips and watching the Traitors burn from the inside out. No time for marriage, no time for cats or kids. He dreams of doing this for years to come.

Then for a while he doesn’t dream, doesn’t think. Can only live in the one moment where it felt like all of his dreams were taken away. It felt like dreams were impossible, now. Undeserving.

A man wakes up and he doesn’t dream, but thinks. Thinks of what could have been, of what dreams he destroyed. He thinks of the only way it could end; in his own death, somewhere in an alley or a ditch, or even worse, in a cell for traitors of the Empire, preparing for his execution. He thinks that’s the only way it could possibly end.

And then a man finds a family that isn’t family at first, only a means to an end, but along the way, his carefully sewn seams give way and he dreams again of a house on a hill, but this time with his oddball group of nobodies that somehow mean everything to him.

“How does it end?” asks the orphan girl, who is no longer an orphan and hasn’t been for quite some time.

Caleb props her on his knee, his manuscript on the desk in front of him, his hair shot through with silver (an addition from the last year that he hated, at first) tied back and out of his face. A band made of silver sits on his ring finger, heavy when it was first slipped on but he had gotten used to it over time. His scars were faded but not gone - one in particular stands out, shaped like a willow tree across his back, a mark from their final battle against a wizard poisoning his country, who now rots in an unmarked grave.

A hand places itself on the desk in front of Caleb, the other sliding along his shoulder. Rough lips with two healthy tusks pecks Caleb’s cheek, before his husband reels back to skim over the translated script.

“This looks familiar,” Fjord murmurs in his ear, and Caleb leans back against him.

The little girl huffs impatiently, having been forced to wait this long to hear the adventures of her fathers and her godmothers and her aunts and uncles. Caleb chuckles, running a hand through her hair.

“You really want to know, little Una?”

She crosses her arms pouts, a look that never failed to make Caleb fold like a deck of cards. He laughs again, kissing her head.

“Well, it ends like this....”

#critical role #widofjord #caleb widogast #cr fanfic #markiboss writes #this was so fun tysm <3 #walkthegale

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mantis--hymn · 5 years

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man i was laughing so hard when jester and nott were breaking into avantika’s quarters but when jester disguised herself as molly i got triple sad

#critical role #crit watching #dave.txt

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loquaciousquark · 5 years

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Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E42 (November 20, 2018)

Dani was actually goofing around quite a bit here, but this still makes me think of some glorious 90s band, so I’m keeping it.

Anyway! The inimitable @eponymous-rose has done more than her share of recaps lately, so here I am picking up where I’ve been slacking off. Tonight’s guests are Marisha Ray and Laura Bailey (with special guest appearance from Ronin! Awwww), so I can hardly wait. We’re discussing Episode 42: A Hole in the Plan.

Tonight’s announcements: Brian is bursting with an announcement he’s not allowed to reveal for another six months. His favorite guess: something about him stealing all the money from the company and moving to an island, but that’s actually his long game, not the short one.

Throughout November, they’re raising money for Operation Supply Drop, Travis’s favorite charity, which supports both active and retired military.

No episode of Critical Role this week due to Thanksgiving. There will also be no episode of Talks Machina next Tuesday; instead, they’ll be airing Sam’s Fireside Chat! This was a reward from the Critter donations to the Pablove Foundation.

Critical Role hoodies are back in the store; the print is very similar to the original with a bit more embellishment on the text on the back.

“Honey Heist 3: Tova’s Honies” airs this Friday at 7pm Pacific! Marisha: “It was bear-nanas.” Laura: “Oh, no.”

CR Stats: Jester has cast Blessing of the Trickster 31 times; 15 of those times were on Nott. Jester technically won her bar brawl with Sorris! She dealt 16 points of damage to his 15. Beau continues to have the most natural 20s with 49. She also has the most natural 1s, womp womp. Marisha: “Well, I roll a lot, you know?” Brian: “Well, your husband is also a tyrant and not to be messed with.” Marisha says she thinks Gil’s die is cursed and everyone gasps. How dare.

Does Brian feel the pressure of following Dani, who was such an excellent host last week? No; when he went through the potential list of fill-ins, the only one that made sense was Dani.

Marisha sees Darktow as a super-abusive socialist society, which does not sit well with Beau. It’s a silk trap.

Jester’s conversation with Caleb was triggered by Fjord’s kiss, especially with her wondering if it really meant anything to either of them. Laura thinks of her high school crushes and how hard you crushed & how devastated you were at every perceived slight; Jester only has the view of romance through her mother, which means physical affection is very different from emotional affection in her mind. On Brian’s asking, Laura’s high school crush was Han Solo. When Laura’s sister was 12, she paid her $15 to paint Han and Leia in a dip kiss, which she still has framed in her current house. I’m dying, this is adorable.

Beau doesn’t exactly trust that Fjord is going to do the right thing, but him sleeping with Avantika doesn’t trigger her red flags in terms of “looking out for each other, keeping each other in check.” She’s looking more for them bullying someone when they don’t need to, being violent when it’s not necessary. “Pursuing power to endless depths and fucking hot pirates, that’s fine with Beau. She just doesn’t want to kill children.” Brian marvels at how this fits into Jester & Caleb’s conversation about killing people from the most recent episode.

Jester can tell Caleb is tortured, and more than anything she wants people not to be sad around her. She just wants desperately for him to be happy.

Marisha has thought a ton about what Beau would have said if Jester had come to her first about the kiss, especially since it was Jester’s first kiss (Marisha assumes, and Jester answers in an adorably non-committal not-not-a-negative). Beau would have been game for it. She doesn’t know if Beau would have given good advice, but she would have tried her best.

Brian spills that Mary’s character’s CHA in their home game is 6. They discuss Nott’s score of 5 and enjoy themselves mightily at both of their expenses.

GIF of the Week! By @ropadoper, it’s Liam casting Reduce and then the Wall of Fire at the end of the episode, both of which involve Marisha falling out of her chair to the floor in reaction so that only her forehead is visible. Everyone is being so cute this episode I can hardly stand it.

As a reminder, an international shipping facility has been created in the UK. Laura asides to tell Travis the keys are in the diaper bag. Literally everyone is in the studio tonight except Sam, EVEN ASHLEY.

Jester thinks the Traveler always gives very good advice, but his suggestion to trick Fjord was the first time ever she felt a little hesitation to follow his advice. Brian: “Is that because he’s never been wrong or because she’s never been allowed to disagree?” Laura says it’s always been amazing advice so far, much more a best-friend relationship, but this was the first time she didn’t want to take his suggestion wholesale because she wasn’t sure it’s how she wanted to get Fjord to like her. Marisha really likes the dynamic of finding out your childhood best friend is a god.

Beau finds herself still being careful with her walls--Marisha imagines Beau was put in a lot of, like, pageant dresses as a kid--so when Jester commented on her hair and then laughed, she felt a little of that “wait, what, do you actually care? Do I look like shit?” Laura says she laughed, not Jester, because it was the most random thing to compliment Beau on.

Beau’s haircut came into being because it was cool & because Marisha wishes she were brave enough to try an undercut.

Brian’s convinced Fjord’s got gills. Dani: “What do you think Fjord is?” Brian: “Obviously a water man. Water genasi. What are water genasi?”

Beau wasn’t surprised Allison rejected her; she’s used to it. Ack. She was looking for an ally against Avantika, Big Brother style. “Instead she just shat in an alleyway with Nott.”

Laura’s not perturbed the Traveler hasn’t mentioned Fjord’s god; he doesn’t really talk about/care about other gods or patrons. Brian suggests he’s actually the Dongfather in disguise. This show’s collective mental age is smaller than Pike, haha.

Beau felt like such an interloper when Sam asked her to help with Fluffernutter, like the best friend trying to be in on a joke without really knowing what’s going on. Marisha also takes a moment to praise Laura for her Jester over the last few episodes; she’s digging into the metaphorical popcorn every time Jester & Nott start going off. (Me too, bud.) Jester’s description of the insect carrying a piece of bread is one of her favorite D&D moments ever. Both Marisha & Laura are agog at how many little plans they’ve tried have gone disastrous and then circled back around to being mostly okay again.

Beau was a little hurt when she wasn’t asked to help break into the captain’s quarters, since that’s her specialty, but it was eased by being able to help with her knowledge anyway. However, she knew since she didn’t have any magic, she had no escape plan aside from jumping off the boat. She laughs that that’s what they ended up doing anyway.

Jester views sex as a transaction, which is why she’s not particularly bothered by Fjord sleeping with Avantika.

Fanart of the Week: @jdillustrates, with a lovely portrait of Caduceus.

Jester’s warring between the logical part of her brain (he was saving her life) and the romantic part of her brain (did he want to kiss me, though?).

There are reasons Beau learned Deep Speech--not as complicated as most people think--that will be revealed eventually. “Nerdy reasons, not because she was kidnapped and turned into a cultist.”

Fjord/Avantika does make her jealous, but it’s also serving a purpose. Laura compares it to telling the high school crush to go hang out with a best friend, only to have them start dating.

Marisha doesn’t feel like Beau’s plans were overly shot down this episode--it’s something she hadn’t even noticed until this question. Marisha feels like it’s so much of a group effort with everyone trying to get to the right plan that it’s hard to pick out who contributed what part of which plan.

Brief interlude to examine a portrait of Brian that looks like George Michael.

In re: the Molly disguise: Beau felt like there was just a wall of regret walking towards her, because it was the friend she let die and the one-night stand. Beau never felt it was actually Molly, though. Jester picked Molly because when Nott said “Keg,” she instantly associated it with “someone who is really cool--who’s also super cool?” Everyone commiserates over how into the night’s shenanigans Molly would have been.

Beau was frustrated while being detained, but she also knew it was going to happen, so it wasn’t a huge issue. She felt like that was where the challenge began for her--anything to get the guard away from what was going on.

Another brief interlude where everyone experiments with how to make power vaginas with their hands. “This is the car salesman power vagina.” I feel like wherever the rails are for this show, they’re so far gone they might as well be little stars in the sky.

Laura thinks Jester’s reaction to Caleb’s backstory would be much different than Caleb imagines it. Both Laura & Marisha talk about how Caleb’s convinced the moment people realize, they’re gone; there’s also the complication that Beau’s “comforting” is not actually that comforting. “She’d say, ‘you know, they won’t care,’” (which Marisha points out, Caleb would respond--how could someone not care about this?) when what she means is, “They love you and won’t abandon you over this.”

Laura and Marisha are both pumped about Caleb’s Wall of Fire--the walk to the dock was like “getting called to the principal’s office, except the principal is going to kill you.” Laura’s immediate reaction was regret she’d tossed the gems, but she loved his decision since she was panicking IRL & her heart was legit pounding. They also both get super enthusiastic bashing Nott’s plan to dump the haversack in an alley. “It’s bright pink! Someone would have definitely seen it!”

Marisha really misses Professor Thaddeus, but is convinced she’ll never see him again. Dani: “He’s your Nymeria, your Arya.” Marisha, tearfully: “He’s gonna come with his flock of owls and gouge out everyone’s eyes but ours.”

Laura’s convinced Sprinkle is magic, since he definitely should be dead twice over.

Quebec is for Lovers: After Dark edition

Neither Laura nor Marisha are cooking this year. Laura & Travis have no Thanksgiving plans at all this year. My gosh, if they were here my parents would be stuffing them full of turkey yesterday, even though they have no idea who they are.

Brian teases Max over messing with Trinket & carrying him back and forth in his car. Dani wants one TM where Brian isn’t mean to Max. Max, offscreen: “I’m FINE. I’m GOOD.” Marisha laughs that Max was okay with Brian’s teasing but shooting daggers at the TDs laughing.

Brian gives Dani an A for amazing and adorable, but not asshole.

Dani ships Percy/Vex, Keyleth/Vax, and Fjord/Jester. Close after is Kima/Allura & Caleb/Jester. She would be surprised if it happened, but wouldn’t object. Marisha asks, as a shipper, what does Dani look for in a quality ship. Dani likes clear feelings with clear reciprocation, canon connections; she doesn’t ship a ton of subtexty stuff.

Laura has been relistening to Vex’s playlists & crying. Both she & Marisha really miss Vex & Keyleth. Liam texted Laura the other day a fanvid of Vex & Vax that made her cry.

Marisha gets emotional seeing fanart of older Keyleth because it means that she’s living on & being happy. Noelle also came up & thanked Marisha for giving Tova a purpose after the latest Honey Heist, and everyone talks about how many hours they’ve spent creating and living in these people.

Marisha can’t listen to Tokyo Sunrise by LP anymore because it instantly makes her cry.

Beau is not a mindflayer. Everyone’s convinced, Marisha.

If Laura had Jester’s paint set, she’d draw home improvements. She’d draw a door for her bathroom into Ronin’s nursery. Marisha would draw more producers--”Not to undermine the ones I have! We’re so overworked!”

Brian looks to Max for the time left, only to have missed Dani literally just giving him the signal.

Brian starts to say he’ll see us next week, but Dani tells him not to confuse us since there’s no TM next week. Brian: “We’ll see you next week this Thursday Critical Role on youtube.com, Logan Paul guest starring, along with Paul Rudd, Rudney Dangerfield...”

Max, as the sound fades: “Okay, please...”

And that’s it for tonight. See you next time, everyone!

#critical role #critical role spoilers #talks machina #talks machina spoilers #long post for ts

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lavellenchanted · 5 years

Text

as boundless as the sea

Fjorester Week, Day 1 ↳ Alternate Universe

When notorious pirate ship The Squall Eater attacks Nicodranas and kidnaps the daughter of the Ruby of the Sea, blacksmith Fjord, who’s been in love with Jester since he was taken in by her family years ago, risks everything by breaking Captain Mollymauk Tealeaf out of jail to help him still a ship and go after her.

But rescuing Jester may not be as easy as it seems, for the legendary curse that afflicts Captain Avantika and her crew is far more real than anyone believes, and Fjord’s connection to them runs deeper than he knows.

At a glance, the Captain’s quarters of The Mist are not vastly different from those of The Squall Eater. The wood is lighter, a solid oak rather than dark mahogany, and everything is newer and better kept, but it is still a small chamber, only a few strides across, with simple furnishings – a table with two chairs, a desk against one wall, two short shelves with logbook and navigational guides, and a bed built into wall and floor.

And yet despite the similarities, it could not feel more different to Jester.

It’s not the light, although she cannot help but think the sun streaming in through the portholes, illuminating a few speck of dust as they swirl through the air in a lazy golden spiral, seems warmer and brighter here; The Black Pearl seems to have a permanent pall cast over it, shadows clinging to every surface and corner no matter the weather or time of day. Nor is it the air, which is fresh and sharply salty, instead of the constant, sickly-sweet scent of death.

No, the difference is in Jester herself. It’s the fact that for the first time in days she doesn’t have a knot of fear settled in stomach. She isn’t waiting for a knife in her back, or wondering how close she is to land and whether or not she might make it by swimming if she threw herself overboard.

She feels safe. She’s away from Avantika and her pirate crew, and on her way back to her mother.

Admittedly she is still surrounded by pirates, but these ones are at least not cursed, undead skeletons who are out for her blood. In fact, in the brief time she has spent with them they seem … not unpleasant. Yasha, despite her fearsome appearance and the dark expression that crossed her face when Fjord told her that Captain Tealeaf had fallen behind, was surprisingly gentle as she wrapped a blanket around Jester’s shoulders and welcomed her on board. The girl manning the wheel, Beau, gave her a wink and a grin she couldn’t help returning. And the tall, pink-haired one who brought her a cup of tea seems more like a friendly gardener than a fearsome marauder.

If this had been her first experience of real pirates, she thinks she might actually have had fun.

And then, of course, Fjord is here.

Fjord, who left everything to come after her.

He sits in front of her, eyes on her hand as he carefully bandages her sliced palm, and Jester greedily takes the opportunity to let her own gaze run freely over him.

His days at sea have left him looking far more unkempt than usual; his hair falls loosely over his forehead, the white streak starkly visible among the inky black, and a few days’ worth of dark stubble coats his chin. His neat cravat and coat are gone and he’s clad only in shirtsleeves and unbuttoned waistcoat, leaving leanly muscled forearms and a patch of skin at the top of his chest bare.

Jester watches the hollow of his throat, following its rise and fall as he breathes, and her heart thumps unsteadily against her ribs. The barrier of polite formality that has held them apart in recent years has dissolved; she can smell the musky scent of his sweat, see its shine on his skin along with the dust and dirt of travel. His hands move oh so gently over hers as he binds her wound, his fingers rough and calloused from years of hard work but still tender and light in their touch. Each brush of them against her skin sends little sparks skittering up her arm, and something between excitement and nerves flutters low in her stomach.

“I still don’t understand why they took you,” he’s saying. “Why they thought you could lift the curse. Did they tell you what -”

As he speaks he glances up at her, and in that brief moment of distract pulls the bandage a little too tight. A hiss of pain escapes her.

“Sorry,” he apologises quickly. “I didn’t mean to - blacksmith’s hands. They’re rough.”

“No, well, yes, technically I guess they are, technically, but they’re nice hands,” Jester hurriedly assures him. She knows that in reality she could probably better tend the wound herself, but she likes this - she likes him caring for her, she likes his hands on hers. Perhaps because of everything she’s been through in the past days, she’s moved to a sudden boldness and whispers, “Don’t stop.”

Fjord lifts his eyes to meet hers and the intensity that shines in them makes her breath catch in her throat. Everything around them melts away, the world shrinking down to him, and her, and nothing else.

One of his hands grips hers a little more tightly and he leans in towards her, his other hand coming up to cradle her face. His thumb strokes a caress across her cheekbone, and she shivers beneath the touch. They’re so close now that it would only take a fraction more movement from one of them for their lips to meet. A kind of amazed surprise flits across Fjord’s expression, like he can’t quite believe his own daring.

“I was … really worried. About you,” he murmurs, voice rough and gravelly.

“I’m really glad you came for me.”

“What, you think I was gonna leave Commodore Who Needs That Many Names De Rolo the Fourth to do it?”

There’s no small amount of contempt in Fjord’s voice as he says his rival’s name. He lifts one eyebrow with wry humour, making Jester giggle softly into his hand. The temptation to turn her head a little and kiss his palm is almost overwhelming, but she’s afraid to push her luck any further and risk bursting the bubble of intimacy surrounding them.

“Weeell, I know how much you hate breaking the rules,” she says, teasing but gentle, because she knows it can a sensitive spot for him - that he has spent so much of his time trying to follow the rules laid out for him so that others will accept him, instead of looking at him and seeing only a monster. Just as she knows that despite his protests he always laughs at her bits of mischief.

Seriousness slips back into his gaze and his thumb brushes over her cheek again as he states, “There’s no rule I wouldn’t break for you.”

His nose grazes the side of hers; the musky scent of him fills her nostrils and his breath is warm on her face. For a moment the only thought in her mind is that this is it, he’s going to kiss her - after all this time, all her dreams -

But then a wave of guilt washes over her as she remembers his anxious questions, wanting to know why the pirates had taken her. Shame-faced, she pulls back just enough to prevent the kiss. Confused hurt makes his expression crumple, and she feels it with the sharpness of a knife.

“Fjord . . .”

Bringing her unwounded hand up to cover his where it still cups her cheek, she slowly guides him down her neck and shoulders to the edge of her bodice, where she pulls out the medallion. She has imagined his fingers trailing across her body many times before, but she can’t enjoy the feel of it when her eyes are fixed apprehensively on him, watching as he looks at the small gold disc and comprehension starts to dawn on his face.

“I thought I lost this the day we met,” he murmurs, lifting the medallion up. Jester reaches up and snaps the cord holding round it her neck with a single, sharp tug, finally returning it fully to him. “You took it?”

She nods. “I saw it on you when we pulled you on to the ship.”

“But … why?” There’s sorrow and pain in his gaze, and a silent question, begging her to explain.

“I saw the symbol and I thought, maybe, you were a pirate,” she says, voice soft. There’s a prickling at the back of her eyes as tears threaten, and the fear that she may have ruined things with Fjord sits like a cold iron weight in her stomach. “I was afraid they would hurt you if they saw it. And I … I didn’t want you to be hurt.”

His face is unreadable; like shutters closing on a window, he has put his mask up. She has seen him use it with others plenty of times before, but he’s never worn it around her before. That he wants to now is more painful than she would ever have thought.

“I’m so sorry, Fjord.”

“Vandran sent it to me,” he says, but it’s quiet, like he’s half talking to himself, his eyes on the medallion. “I had thought he was probably dead, but then I got this and - it’s what gave me the courage to leave.”

Jester swallows back some of her tears. That he’s still talking to her, telling her things she knows he wouldn’t tell anyone else, is a good sign. Isn’t it?

“Leave?”

“I’d been in an orphanage. It was . . . not a good place. I used to escape whenever I could, hang out at the docks. It’s where I met Vandran. He said he would take me on his ship when I was older, but then he left and I never heard from him again. Until I got this, with a note telling me to take care of it. That’s when I left, bartered passage on a merchant sailor. I was gonna try and find him. But then the ship was attacked . . .”

His voice trails off, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Attacked by the Squall Eater.” He looks up at Jester, mouth drawn into a grim line. In a dazed, absent kind of motion he lifts a hand to his left arm - where, Jester knows, the tattoo of a many-eyed snake curls around his bicep. “They never wanted you. It was my blood they needed. Someone consecrated to Uk’otoa. A pirate.”

The last word is emphasised by the hard slam of the medallion into the wooden table. Fjord has gone rigid, anger making his body tense. The sudden sound makes Jester flinch a little, but she’s not afraid. She knows Fjord would never hurt her.

Slowly, tentatively, she reaches out and brushes her fingertips across his cheek.Her touch is light, fleeting, but as she goes to pull back again Fjord all but snatches her hand, gripping it tightly, as though he needs her to anchor him. She can feel him shaking.

She wants to offer comfort, solace, but she doesn’t know what words to say to help. And then, as she opens her mouth to try and find some, a cry echoes from above desk.

At this distance the words are indistinct, but the tone is clear - alarm, panic. Jester meets Fjord’s gaze once more and with a sickening lurch of her stomach she realises they both know what has happened even before they look out the porthole.

The Squall Eater has found them.

#fjoresterweek #fjorester #critical role #fjord x jester #fjord #jester lavorre #my fic #otp: we take care of each other

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opalwhisker · 6 years

Text

Worst case scenario...

So now I’m thinking of how Bad™️ next week could be for fjorester.

Because I imagine that jester would refuse to go to sleep until she knew fjord was back from his little visit to avantika’s cabin. So she’d be awake in her room with beau, seething quietly and drawing savagely when suddenly...she hears a strange noise....

A noise that is noticeably different from beau’s snores and the sound of the ship cresting over waves. It makes her heart drop like a rock and she hopes with all her heart she didn’t hear what she just heard. She strains to see if she can hear it again, growing frustrated when she can’t quite seem to make out any sounds other than beau and the ocean outside her window.

She makes a choice she may later come to regret.

As quietly as she can, she sneaks out of her room and over to fjord and caduceus’ room. She peeks her head in and her heart plummets even further to find only caduceus’ mop of pink hair laying in one of the beds in the room. (Caduceus has slyly peeked one eye open to see jester turn away hurriedly and try not to slam the door. He says nothing)

Now she’s afraid of what she’ll hear, but she can’t help it. She needs to know. Creeping ever quietly up to the deck and then over to the captian’s quarters’ door, she’s stopped before she can even place an ear to the door by the sound she’s been dreading.

The next few moments are a blur. Jester feels her whole chest tighten as it feels like her heart shatters. Tears well up furiously in her eyes, refusing to be bottled up any longer. She needs to get away. She wants to run away, back to her mother and sob her heart out as her mother strokes her hair and mumbles soft words of love to her. But she can’t do that. She’s on a ship in the middle of the ocean. There’s hardly even anywhere private for her to go and hide. She considers briefly jumping off the ship even, anything to be away from here. But she doesn’t. Instead she looks up, trying to hold back her tears as she hoarsely whispers; “Traveller, if you are here....please....please....” she can’t even get the words to come out of her throat, it feels so tight.

There is only silence in the salty night air. Her god doesn’t respond to her plea. Her knees feel weak when she notices a place she can go....and starts climbing the mast until she reaches the tiny basket perch precariously at the top of the ship, the crow’s nest.

Up there, jester feels like she can finally get the reprieve she’s been searching for, and the dam breaks. She cries in huge, ugly sobs, gasping for air in between stuttering words of heartbreak and pain. She curls up in the bottom of the basket, looking at the sky and sobbing, pretending she was just in the basket on the waves by herself, hoping that some huge wave would come and swallow her and her tiny bucket whole.

She cries like this for what feels like hours until eventually, the exhaustion and stress of the day, coupled with her sore, puffy eyes, drag jester into an uncomfortable sleep.

She sleeps fitfully, finally returning to her own cabin when the sun begins to peek over the horizon. Slowly, the rest of the party and ship crew begin to wake, but jester remains in bed, adamantly refusing to budge even against beau’s insistent attempts to rouse her.

Assuming it is just exhaustion from the day before, the party lets her ‘rest’. Fjord awkwardly tries to offer to see her, but is stopped by caduceus’ gentle, yet firm hand on his shoulder. The firbolg simply shakes his head and walks away as fjord is left flustered and ashamed.

Finally jester does meet the group again. She seems as cheery as ever, happily teasing everyone with her playful banter....everyone except fjord. She’s hesitant to meet his eyes, and is avoidant of his attempts to talk to her. She’s never outright rude or outwardly upset about it, but she answers him with a calculated, clinical response that is uncharacteristic of her.

The change in her only worsens with time. She stops writing and drawing as frequently. She refuses more food, and hardly touches her favorite pastries. Her happiness seems less and less genuine as her eyes seem perpetually sore and red.

Jester has never known heartbreak like this before, and on top of not knowing what to do with her emotions, she feels a pressure to maintain her happy facade. It was what her mother named her, after all. A jester doesn’t show sadness. They’re meant to spread happiness. A Jester doesn’t frown.

#fjorester #crspoilers #critical role spoilers #long post

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