#to orym dorian and fearne leaving for marquet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

brenbrennn · 1 year

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♡ ·˚꒰𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮˚ˑ༄

{❥} Pairing: Dorian Storm x (gender-neutral!!) reader , Orym of the Air Ashari x (gender-neutral!!) reader {❥} Summary: The night of the ball was hectic if you wanted to sum it down in the best.. condensed way. With your group's go-to job finished, the night really had only begun. What rips you out of your haze of adrenaline was one of your closest friends breaking off from the group. Dorian announces his leave and you can't help but feel your walls breaking. Finally, as you were getting now just used to this group, your friend was embarking off. Somehow, some way the warm and affirming holding of hands by your klepto faun companion Fearne can not reel you out of the sudden pit in your chest. Taking a deep breath in, something clicks at the worst time possible.

{❥} Authors Note: Sooo uh life update, my water is all fucked up! Literally, there's a blockage by my kitchen sink (I tink) .. so that's fun. I decided to celebrate me finally getting up to episode 14 of 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓼 by writing this. We'll forever miss you Dorian<3 , love that air genasi sm. Alsoooo - this is a rewrite of an earlier blurb!! Right here is the link to it if you'd like to read the original piece.

{❥} CWS (Content Warnings): I really dont think there is any sort of warnings for this (ONE is that its semi proofread so there may be spelling mistakes) ... except the fact that it may be spoilers for episode 14 of Bell's Hells? This is just a small one for anyone who isn't totally caught like... me LOL. But uh yeah - other than that I think that's really it! If there's anymore I should add to the warnings, please let me know. _________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ・ Your group's job for Eshteross was at first.. simple. Easy he said! , this would help your group keep a constant tracker on a madman! Though if you were going to be entirely honest, this job was never going to be easy. None of you really could expect how the night would take a hard turn. ・ The entire mission was its whole win and disaster all in one, and it didn't help that the guard clearly knew of you and your group's physical descriptions and so on. But for now, that wasn't the main focus, what WAS the main focus was getting back to Eshteross manor.

・ As you all regrouped back at the home of Ariks Eshteross, the air was pretty stale. Ashton had their shit absolutely kicked in, again - the guard had somewhat knowledge of the descriptions of the "Bells Hellions", coming to the conclusion that every one of you was entirely worn out.

・ The air relaxes a bit as Dorian shows off his now less invisible brother. The poor guy had one hell of a night, and even with his mistakes before he clearly meant no harm. Your eyes glanced over as you saw Dorian tense at the mention of the Green Seekers trying to put the blame for the tower robbery on Cyrus. Letting out a weak but frustrated - "They think he's me."

・ Cyrus explains himself a little bit more, talking about how he was mostly in the dark with all of Emoths business. Eshteross snaps his cane down to the hardwood floor grounding and brings up a solution. Smuggiling Cyrus out of the area, at least out of Marquet with the use of his skyship. ・ As He brings up how the Green Seekers, Paragons Call, and all of the.. less friendly aquatics would be looking for a specific look of a person. Laudna immediately catches on as you as well notice the large and stoic half-orcs eyes somewhat narrow at Dorian. With Laudna pointing this out you, Fearne, and Orym speak up. -> "Yeah! I don't think we should be jumping the gun with Cyru-"

・ Eshteross .. sadly brings up another good enough point. Even though Cyrus didn't look like someone with any true cruel intentions, he even admitted he wasn't good at the whole art of crimeing. Eshteross began to somewhat poke at him with the fact that Cyrus couldn't possibly figure out a way to get out of Jrusar, especially on his own. Even keep a low profile at that. ・ Dorian replies out of the blue, saying he would join in with the smuggling of both him and his brother out of the city. Everyone tries to bring up a hypothetical solution. Ranging from changing appearances to paying off Cyrus's frustrating bounty, even to gaining new identities (courtesy of you.) But by the somber air Genasi's look, he had clearly made up his decision.

・ Eshteross commends you and your group, saying that you all in the end succeeded. Commenting about the fact that your group was one of a kind by his judgment with your group's drive to survive. Leaving you all to go deal with the paperwork, you all talked out your differences about this new decision. ・ For you, you couldn't help but feel like your heart was crinkling up like a worn piece of parchment. Dorian leaving?? , what the fuck?? It wasn't like you didn't understand why he was leaving. Family comes first before everything. He didn't even stop to mention that your group was like family. But something was tugging at you , why of all of the days did this had to happen? Why the fuck couldn't you be more upfront? ・ Ever since your adventures started with originally the Crowns Keepers, you always had a sort of admiration for Dorian. Even if he could be a little bit of a clutz, he had that eloquence to him. He may be a little bit awkward but he paid up for that in his caring remarks. One way or another always looking for ways to brighten up a crowd or bring any sort of form of performance into the mix. That was only just the start of your rabbit hole. ・ Before you always pushed off telling him about it, talking about how one day you'll lose track of each other and forget about one another. But Dorian was nothing close to forgettable. Your mind tricked you, and you immediately fell head over heels for the charming air genasi. Fearne could see you slowly start to spiral, inching her hand closer to yours as a way to calm you. ・ You gave her a look of hurt, she shared that same resemblance. Your eyes were filled with a sort of betrayal but one not of a softer blow. This was for the best, and Cyrus was of his flesh and blood. But you couldn't really just blurt out an "I LOVE YOU!" in the middle of your and your friend's pity circle. Besides that, you couldn't really just leave.

・ You couldn't lie to yourself, you did miss your friends from before. Dariax and his loveable air-head personality, Opal and her sporadic but thrilling move of action. Fy'rai of course with her leader, headstrong demeanor. Those were your people but now... Bells Hells are as well. You had fallen for all of their quirks and downsides, seeing that there was (similar to Eshteross) something valuable within this group. ・ Not to mention that Orym and Fearne were still staying, those two were basically your ride or die. You counted all your friends as that, but at a point in time it was just you and your spoon huddle. Now with one of you leaving, it hurt just a little bit. You felt Fearne gently graze your knuckles with her decrepit hand, giving you a pitiful smile. She very much could feel how this was a hard time for you, especially Orym.

・ Not too long ago you could tell the halfling shared your similar thoughts on Dorian. Honestly, who wouldn't be so in love with this gracious being! In a way you wanted to push Orym to say something, but you could tell he had some baggage in the feelings department. Though he could also pretty much tell what was wrong with you by that continuous stare you had.

・ Though in regular Dorian fashion, you all gathered around for a somewhat more upbeat round of wine. Sitting with one another and toasting to your newfound group along for toasting some more for a safe passage, no one really left out dealing sass (well deserved) to Cyrus. He may have no real malicious intent in his body, he was also... a little bit dumb, but hey- for some that's attractive.

・ You all share drinks, stories, and some sort of combination of laughter and bitter-sweet words with one another. Your closing off a certain chapter with the way a majority of you met, it was a touching sight to see. Even if Cyrus was keeping more to himself with this environment, he'd put in his input which made you smile in a sort of warmness that could only be defined as friendly. Your spoon formation lamented over the fact that it would be one less spoon in the mix. ・ With songs sung and the sharing of some aggressive Pate and Bertrand plushie smooches, it was time for Dorian to leave. Though you and the others didn't stop at mentioning to Dorian to call through the sending stone if needed. Making sure to drive home yours and Orym's words that Dorian was farthest from a burden and that all of the evidence they needed was clear to everyone. ・ As Dorian starts to make his way out with Cyrus, and Eshteross leading them to the now pulled-up carriage, you stop him for just a moment for one more final ... "tah tah" for now. You remembered a certain sun brooch that always rested on your person and unclasped it off of you. Dorian gave you an interested look before noticing you putting it on him, you took a deep breath in. Your voice was shaking and your eyes were watery as can be. "Dont you ever fucking forget you have allies with us, you hear me?" You say while trying to sound as serious as you can without breaking down into a mess of tears. He chuckled at this, looking at you with a compassionate glance. "I could never forget about my family here, not any last one of you. I could never lie about how you all mean to me, especially you." He says, the last part a little more hushed.

・ You couldn't help but smile, even if a little cracked, and gently grace your hands over the now pinned brooch. He gave you one final smile as well and gently placed a kiss on your cheek before sharing with you a quick but firm hug. You walked back to the others as you watched Dorian walk out with Cyrus and head right over to the carriage.

・ Testing out the sending stone was Fearne, acting like a frantic mother, until Orym took it away trying to quell her nerves, your face couldn't help but keep on smiling. You knew Dorian was always a person of keeping promises, and by how random the act of fate was your paths would always cross sometime soon. At least that's what you hoped but time would only tell.

・ You all watched them ride off, as well as catching a look at some thieving child stealing the once floating wooden airship. That was those interrupted as Eshteross closed the front doors of the manor, taking a turn back to everyone else. You all were a little skeptical if Eshteross was a little mad, but surprisingly (the dwindling adrenaline playing with your worries) he wasn't at all.

・ He decided to do the reassurance, by reminding you all about how you were his problem solvers of that night. Even if your ways were somewhat a little bit messy, your group got shit done. Though he had a point, everyone was worn out and pretty fucking tired, it was time to head to bed.

・ Which is what you all did as Eshteross gave each and every one of you rooms to sleep in for the night. You couldn't help but take some time to pace around anxiously, what if something happens on the way to Emon, what if they- until your walking stops by the sudden rhythmic knock. Walking up to the door.. it was Orym. You had decided to take your own room to cool down so this was a surprise.

・ This all led to a long and winded talk, away from all of the others. The main subject? , was, of course, Dorian. No bad words were shared, though Orym bared his soul to you about what he was feeling about the sudden departure. You did the same and a new , pure respect was seemingly gained between the two of you. Maybe being in the same boat wasn't so bad. ・ You bidded him a "goodnight" and watched as he headed back to his and Fearnes shared room. You let out a content sigh before turning back to your mostly dusty bed, but that was the least of your worries. All you wanted to do was wrangle your frantic thought process to hold and get some well-deserved rest, maybe even rest up old wounds when you're at it.

・ Turning over to the nearest wall, focusing in on it, you finally let sleep take over you and your mind. Your last thoughts were on Dorian and what work would be approached about the next day, then again all you needed to do was play the waiting game as is. Though you wouldn't hate that, with those final thoughts you finally let sleep FULLY consume your consciousness. Tomorrow was going to be good, you just knew it.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critical role headcannons #critical role oneshot #critical role fanfic #critical role fic #critrole #critrole x reader #bells hells #bells hells x reader #dorian storm x reader #orym of the air ashari x reader #campaign 3 #cr3 #critical role campaign 3 #one for ashton is coming soon!! ^^#★ reblogs are appreciated<3 #★ every kind of ineraction is appreciated<3 #★flood my inbox<3

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standbyyourmantis · 2 years

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can I get some dorym cuddles?

Hell yes you can get some Dorym cuddles! How do you feel about pre-C3/post-Zephrah sleepy Orym and pining Dorian who is convinced that his feelings are unrequited?

I had to look through my list of favorite tropes and picked a few out, so prepare for "bridal carry," and "putting a blanket on a sleeping person," with just a dose of angst to heighten the sweet.

It had been a hard day. They'd left Zephrah a few days ago en route to Stilben to pick up an airship to Marquet and while Dorian was used to long days of travel in general, today they'd been waylaid by some woefully unprepared bandits. The good news was that the bandits had been prepared for a merchant party and not three experienced adventurer's. The bad news was that there had been five bandits to the three of them (plus Mister).

Orym, as always, had been out front trying to keep attention on himself and off of Dorian and Fearne while both casters kept slinging spells and tried to stay out of trouble. They had downed two of the bandits when one of the melee fighters got a good blow in on Orym and knocked him out cold. Dorian had frozen and nearly taken an arrow to the shoulder for his distraction as he tried to get a healing word off to bring Orym back. Fearne, blessedly, had just muttered okay well that's rude and then morphed into a dire wolf, chasing off the remaining three bandits. This left Dorian free to rush to Orym's side and dump whatever healing he had left into the halfling.

Fearne had returned about half an hour later and hadn't offered any explanation about where she'd been or what happened to the other bandits, and Dorian wasn't sure he wanted to know particularly. But with a quick Cure Wounds off of her, they'd all been in good enough shape to make it to the nearest town before sunset and had located a tavern they could afford and that would allow Dorian to play for tips while Fearne socialized (and picked some pockets) while Orym rested.

The halfling was still exhausted from being wounded (healing magic was an odd thing in Dorian's experience, it healed the body but did nothing to combat the rush of hormones and subsequent crash that came with your insides becoming your outsides however briefly), but he'd still curled up in a booth with a tankard of ale to 'keep an eye' on Fearne. His self-imposed watch didn't last long, though. As Dorian played throughout the night he had noticed Orym's attention split more and more between Fearne and himself, and Orym's eyes dropping heavier and heavier. It probably wasn't even ten yet when he finally looked over to see Orym lying down in the booth with his head buried in his arms.

It was sweet to see, Orym so rarely let anyone see him vulnerable that he must have been exhausted. Even though Dorian was still making decent tips, he also couldn't bear the thought of leaving Orym to nap in a taproom after everything that had happened that day, and they didn't technically need anymore money tonight. They had supplies enough for Stillben and money for the airship provided, so he let the playing peter off slowly, signalling he was finishing up for the evening until he was able to pack his flute up and return to the booth to rouse Orym.

"Orym?" Dorian whispered just louder than the ambient noise of the bar, placing his hand on Orym's shoulder gently. He didn't want to startle his friend, and Orym'd had a hard enough day.

Orym's only response was a tired sounding grumble before burying his head further into his arms. It was so painfully endearing that Dorian quickly gave up all thought of waking him. He already knew he had a particular weakness for Orym, he really shouldn't even bother trying to fight it.

There was only one solution Dorian could think of that would allow him to move Orym while also letting Orym sleep off whatever exhaustion he still felt from the rest of the day. It took some maneuvering of the table, but he was able to scoop Orym up in his arms bridal style easily enough. Even as strong as he was, Orym was quite literally half Dorian's size and if he weighed much more than 50 pounds Dorian would be surprised. He quickly caught Fearne's eye where she sat at the bar fussing over a tiefling woman's horn adornments and nodded down to the man in his arms and then towards the stairs and she nodded in acknowledgement before returning to her conversation.

Dorian was relieved that Orym had taken his armor off before joining them in the taproom. For one thing, it was filthy and soaked in Orym's blood and not at all appropriate for mixed company. But also, it made the process of getting Orym into bed so much easier if all he had to do is get the halfling on the bed and remove his boots. It took Dorian a few seconds to decide how to arrange Orym on the bed so that he wouldn't have to move him again to tuck him in. Eventually he just ended up using the last of his spells to cast Mage Hand to move the coverlet for him.

"You know, you're lucky you're so small," he muttered to the sleeping halfling as he got him settled. "I never could have done this for Dariax. He'd have just had to sleep it off downstairs."

Orym, predictably, did not respond.

After getting Orym positioned in the center of the bed and getting his boots off, Dorian pulled the blanket back over his sleeping friend.

It was so easy sometimes to forget how small Orym was, especially when he was forcing himself between Dorian and whatever enemy had threatened him.

"My little hero," Dorian said to himself because nobody else could hear him right now and he was free to indulge openly in his affection for Orym just for a little while – just a few more moments, there were no complications right now when Orym didn't know Dorian was even talking to him.

Dorian smoothed some of Orym's hair back even though it didn't really need it, enjoying the feel of soft hair under his fingers. He could tell himself he was cleaning out some of the road dust, it would be okay.

At length, Dorian stood up and dusted himself off. He had played the doting lover for long enough, and it wasn't something he should allow himself to get accustomed to. Orym had a duty and a purpose, and Dorian knew he couldn't be the one to get in the way of that. He turned towards the door, fully intending to go back downstairs and keep Fearne out of trouble or get a drink himself, but a sound from the bed stopped him in his tracks.

"C'm back t'bed." It was Orym, and he did not sound even slightly awake. Dorian turned to see the halfling where he'd rolled over towards the spot where Dorian had been and had his arm stretched over the warm spot where Dorian had been sitting.

The image of it broke Dorian's heart just a little. He – he didn't know everything. But he knew enough. He'd been to Zephrah, he'd seen Orym's home which was sized too large for a lone halfling, he'd sat in furniture that was far more comfortable for him than it was for either Fearne or Orym, he'd seen the pitying looks people gave Orym when they went out and heard the way they asked questions like how are you holding up? Dorian knew. Orym had lost someone, and there had been a few nights when he thought his friend had been on the verge of telling him and Fearne the whole story, but right now it was an open secret between the three of them with none acknowledging that the others knew.

And that was okay! They were friends – they were just friends – and Dorian's little crush meant nothing in the grander scheme of what Orym had to do. It was fine, really. But.

But what was Dorian to do when his friend in his sleeping state mistook the genasi for a different man and invited him into bed?

Of course, Dorian wasn't going to read too much into that part – they'd slept together in the very literal sense before. Either in a pile with the other Crown Keepers or snuggled around Fearne for warmth or even just waking up next to each other after a night that had turned colder than either had anticipated. Needs must, and even Dorian couldn't read too much into cuddling for survival. This was different, though. This was him and Orym in a bed by themselves. This was him making the conscious choice to climb into bed with a sleeping friend who probably just mistook Dorian for a dead man.

"Orym," Dorian whispered. "It's just me. It's Dorian."

"C'm t'bed," Orym repeated and Dorian's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't deny him this. He probably should, but if Orym had forgotten his own pain for the night…

Dorian was weak, that's all there was to it. He couldn't say no to Orym, he never had been able to. He quickly stripped off his coat and shirt, folding them loosely and tossing them onto his pack. They'd wrinkle, but he'd deal with that tomorrow. He didn't want to lose his nerve or overthink, but he also didn't want to push his boundaries with his friend. He pressed himself all the way to the edge of the bed, hoping to himself that would be enough to keep Orym happy without causing any other issues.

Orym, unfortunately, had other ideas. The halfling sought out heat like it was his job, immediately snuggling into Dorian's side and burying his face in Dorian's shoulder. Dorian was going to die, that's all there was to it. He would evaporate under a snuggly halfling and nobody would ever see him again. Not only was this emotionally awkward, it was also physically just not a comfortable position to have Orym wrapped around his right arm and honestly it couldn't be super comfortable for the halfling either (although you'd never have known from the way he was continuing to attempt to burrow into Dorian's space).

Tentatively so as not to wake his friend (just friends Dorian reminded himself), Dorian pried his arm free from Orym and wrapped it around his slight frame. Orym immediately settled once Dorian had his arm around him, his head resting on Dorian's chest now and hopefully not in any danger of being woken up by the frantic beating of Dorian's poor heart.

When he'd thought he would indulge himself in some friendly hair touching, he absolutely hadn't been prepared for it to escalate to this point. He certainly wasn't prepared to be a nighttime avatar of a dead lover. If he was extremely lucky he'd be devoured by the bed tonight and not have to face any of this in the morning.

"D'rian," Orym's sleepy voice interrupted his frantic thoughts, his name muffled by Orym's face being pressed half into Dorian's chest. "Y'r thinking too loud…go t' sleep."

Oh.

#dorym #dorym fic #dorian storm #orym #dorian storm/orym #ask box fic #mantis writes #dorymfalcoons #i probably could have given it a couple hours to percolate #or done more than one re-read #but we live dangerously around here

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wastingoxygensince1983 · 2 years

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With all the things considered that I'm enjoying in the campaign, there's something quite small that is a niptick for me.

To be honest, is not even a problem but is something that I particularly can't ignore.

You see, one of the things that bothers me the most about the type of media that I consumed is when said media has established some lore and then insert discrepancies over the lore presented before.

And with the incredible big world building lore that Matt introduced in Exandria, is almost logical that they are gonna make some small mistakes. Still this things are things I notice. Even more when these things are the majority around the Exu lore.

-Fearne presented her postcards. One of them was from Aeor. At the moment the table asked if any of the characters knew about Aeor. Matt said no. Later talking with Joe in Bassuras, they were talking about Aeor and Matt asked them to roll a history check. Which some of them had information about Aeor. Is been around 6-7years since the end of the mighty nein campaign. The information about Aeor could be more open to the public now. But the issue for me was saying that they didn't know anything to now having history checks.

-I'm not sure about this one but the fact that people had information about Avalir when they were talking with Joe. Not sure if I had to take the implication that when the exu calamity campaign happened the information about Avalir was discovered in current Exandria. But I was almost sure this was information nobody knew. Kinda wish to know how, when and who discovered it.

-Before leaving Bassuras they discovered a metal box with Residium in it. Both Fearne and Orym acted like they never saw it before. They interacted with the mineral during Exu prime in the majority of the episodes. During episode 2 there's that funny moment with Aimee and the name of the mineral. In the same episode Dariax put the mineral in his teeth(the same thing that Chetney did now in c3). They used Residium to reconnected Ted with Opal. Is this residium somehow different?

-Matt established that Fearne, Dorian and Orym traveled bia tree from Zeprah to Emon where they took an airship to come to Marquet. Now they acted like Fearne never met Keyleth before and never saw traveling through trees before.

-Still the fact that none Orym or Fearne talks about their friends back in Tal'dorei. They are now in the same continent. I hope in the next episodes Orym gets to at least call Dorian.

None of this things really affected my enjoyment of the story and what's happening in the campaign. But these are things that keep happening and keep adding to the things in my brain and I can't stop making it there.

And none of this would be important for me if Matt wouldn't be the one that put those things in there,

If they mentioned that these characters are different from the exu prime ones and have certain similarities that would be better for my confusion(that would also explained to me why Fearne doesn't transform into a direwolf now in Marquet).

#critical role spoilers #critical role #cr spoilers #campaign 3 #matt mercer

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tarydarrington · 2 years

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It’s easiest if Orym sleeps in the middle.

For one thing, it keeps him from getting inadvertently shoved to the floor; Dorian is still not quite accustomed to keeping his arms tucked in, and Fearne has a tendency to kick in her sleep. For another, the first time Dorian had woken with his face on Fearne’s… bosom, he had spent half the day unable to look her in the eye. Besides, Orym says it’s warm - and neither of them minds keeping him comfortable.

And if Dorian takes a little comfort in knowing Orym doesn’t mind being so close while he’s vulnerable, well, he can keep that to himself.

He doesn’t wear very much, when he sleeps. Just the breeches. Must be a halfling thing, or maybe a Zephrah thing.

“Oh,” says Fearne when he brings it up. “Maybe he usually sleeps naked, but he’s too polite to do it when we’re all in the same bed.”

Dorian gets the impression there may be some projecting going on. In any case, it’s a perfectly fine arrangement. Even when they finally reach the heat and humidity of Marquet, it’s easier for all of them if they continue to share.

There are other, trickier aspects to Marquet, of course. Dorian does his best not to think of them too much, but a constant buzz of anxiety settles too easily back into his chest. There’s no reason anyone in the family should be out and about in Jrusar. He has nothing to worry about.

Aside from the fact that one of their powerful new friends can read minds, of course - but this wouldn’t be the first time he’s forcibly shoved thoughts of the Wyvernwinds out of the spotlight.

Of course, after she leaves for the night, that gets him thinking about a smaller version of himself, panicked over a broken vase, caught in the center of a Zone of Truth. So of course, after spending the evening trying to ignore it, the scene turns up again in his dreams.

Dorian wakes with a start, blinking into the dark with a racing heart. He’s not home. Well, he is, but– not there. He’s in the Spire by Fire, with his friends. With Fearne and–

“You okay?”

Dorian startles again. The dead of night it may be, but it isn’t completely dark - the torchlight filtering in through the window catches on Orym’s open eyes staring up at him with concern.

“Just fine,” he says. “Just a nightmare.”

Too late, as Orym’s brow furrows, he realizes their particular history with nightmares.

“Not one of those, though?” Orym asks.

For a moment, that familiar shame is back churning in his stomach. Of course Orym still doesn’t believe he’s thrown off the Spider Queen’s influence. Orym had never believed he could do it in the first place. And if it wasn’t so well-deserved, Dorian would be angry – and maybe he’s angry after all, regardless of whether he deserves to be.

Then he takes a breath, remembers where he is, and forces himself to see that the only worry in Orym’s face is for his own sake.

There’s no mistrust, anymore. Only care.

The shame in his stomach takes on a different flavor. Of course Orym trusts him.

“No,” he answers quietly. He forces a smile. “I was up on stage in front of a huge audience, and all of them were laughing. I didn’t understand why until I looked down and realized I wasn’t wearing any clothes at all.” He laughs in a way he hopes sounds casual. “How embarrassing.”

Orym watches him quietly for a moment, the look on his face unreadable.

“Sounds pretty lousy,” he says at last, and Dorian gets the feeling that isn’t anywhere close to what he wants to say. “You okay to go back to sleep?”

Dorian nods. “Yes. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

He shoots Orym one last tight smile, then settles back down facing the room. For a long moment, Orym doesn’t move.

“No trouble,” he murmurs eventually, and resumes his position as well.

The next few days are a whirlwind. One moment he’s sharing drinks and song with Bertrand Bell, and the next Bertrand is dead in an alley. Imogen pries into his head more often than he’d like, and the others… well, he likes them, but there’s a gulf of difference between like and trust. The undercurrent of anxiety doesn’t help one bit.

And then he turns up. Cyrus turns up, and Cyrus is in danger, and Cyrus has… met his friends? If the bar weren’t so high, Dorian would say he had never had a stranger week.

But at least they’re all on the same page now, more or less. For a while, as they speak first in the alley and then in the tavern, Dorian thinks the look on Orym’s face might be something like hurt. But he’s back to defending Dorian in the blink of an eye, and the others seem just fine. It must be nothing. Just the stress of the day.

He walks Cyrus back to the Corsairs, hands him his Sending Stone, and returns to the Spire to find that his friends have already gone to bed.

It isn’t so much that he would have liked to talk about it; the opposite, really - the walk back had been filled with anxious what-ifs and theories on how to dodge any possible prying questions. But for some reason, it stings a bit that none of them were even the least bit curious.

He shakes off the feeling as best he can as he climbs the stairs and counts the doors to the room he shares with Fearne and Orym. It’s already dark inside. Dorian pulls the door shut hastily behind him and fumbles around for his sleep clothes.

It’s only when he reaches the bed to settle down that he realizes something is off. His side of the mattress feels narrower than usual - and with a sickly pang, he knows why.

Orym is on the other side. Fearne is in the middle.

Dorian swallows around the sudden lump in his throat, averting his eyes from the pair of them as he climbs in carefully. It hasn’t been long since the others left - for all he knows, Imogen is still within range. He slams the door shut on any thoughts chasing their tails around his head, chokes down the guilt and the hurt, and shuts his eyes.

This time, he dreams of Cyrus’s head on an executioner’s block.

He wakes in a cold sweat, gasping in a breath of the humid air, heart racing. There are benefits to sleeping on the edge even when they’re not in the usual arrangement; Dorian’s feet are on the floor before the image has left his mind’s eye. Quietly as he can manage, he shoves the window open and ducks his head outside.

The night is cooler outside. This late, the streets are largely empty. Dorian pulls his hands down his face. This dark tangle of alleyways is what Bertrand saw in his last moments. Another life lost because Dorian failed to protect him.

“Hey.”

Dorian lets his face fall the rest of the way into his hands, scrubbing at his eyes before leaning back into the room. Of course, it’s Orym. He’s followed Dorian to the window, quiet as a mouse, and is watching him with both arms crossed over his chest. Dorian expects him to say something. Ask if he’s all right, maybe, or demand answers about– well, about anything. The shame settles back in.

But Orym doesn’t say a word, just peers up at him with those uncertain eyes, more guarded than he used to be.

Dorian takes a long breath, letting it out slowly. “You should get some more sleep, Orym.”

Orym makes that face of his that reminds Dorian so much of having disappointed his father. “Yeah, you too.”

Neither of them moves. Somewhere outside, a bird trills.

With a sigh, Dorian pulls the window shut. “I’m sorry.”

Orym’s eyebrows raise, but before he can reply, Dorian holds up his hands.

“I am. I am sorry. This… my family is very complicated. I didn’t want…” He didn’t want his new family getting mixed up in his old mess. “I just wanted to start over.”

The optimistic part of Dorian thinks that, maybe, something about Orym’s expression has softened. He grabs onto the notion with both hands.

“I do want to talk about it,” he says, and finds that it’s only partly a lie. “Just… not now. Is that all right?”

A moment passes with his heart in his throat, and then Orym nods. And, just a little, the tension in the room eases.

“C’mon.” Orym nods toward the bed. “Let’s get you some more rest.”

Dorian follows without argument. Fearne has managed to splay her limbs out across the entire breadth of the mattress in their absence, and has begun snoring soundly. Orym shoots him a look of conspiratorial amusement, and Dorian’s heart gets a little lighter as he smiles back.

“Hey, Fearne,” Orym murmurs soothingly, “let’s just get you back to this side of the bed, okay?”

He gives her torso a tug. She doesn’t stir one bit. Fondly, Dorian braces his hands on her back and gives Orym a look.

“Ready?”

Together, they manage to haul their friend back to her own fair share of the bed. She’s still snoring when she settles down - and even more amazingly, Orym is smiling at him.

“Mind if I get in, first?” he asks with a gesture to the center.

“Oh.” Dorian bites back the smile that comes with the full-body wash of relief. “Not at all.”

#''oh i'm not quite to the stage where i want to write fic about them'' i said. ha ha ha #critical role #orym #dorian storm #dorym #c3 #mine #mine:fic #dorian #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers

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fjorests-of-wildemount · 2 years

Text

It’s been eight months and Dorian still isn’t used to watching Orym flit through the battlefield leaving carnage in his wake. Orym’s sword and shield are an extension of his body, each as graceful as the halfling himself, and Dorian sometimes finds himself hypnotized by it when he should be focusing on what’s in front of him. But even when he’s focused, he can’t help but cast his eye across the chaos to check in.

“You good?” he calls during a breath.

“I’m up,” Orym answers roughly, which means “not really.” Dorian nods grimly and moves to position himself closer to Orym’s side of the room.

When Orym had returned from his summons to Zephrah with a new quest and a determined look in his eye, Dorian had immediately assumed they would all go together. Opal wasn’t ready to leave yet, though, and Dariax . . . well, Dariax couldn’t leave her alone, and out of all of them he seemed to be the best able to resist the Spider Queen’s influence.

The night before Fearne and Dorian were set to accompany Orym to Marquet, Dariax pulled Dorian aside.

“You’re gonna have to look out for him,” Dariax said, gesturing to Orym nursing a pint at the table in the corner. “He doesn’t know when to stop.”

“I know,” Dorian replied, placing a quick kiss to the top of Dariax’s head. “I’ve got him.”

Now, he pays for his moment of distraction with the bite of a knife in his shoulder, but a bolt of electricity from Imogen takes care of the assassin behind him just in time to watch Orym fall with a grunt.

There isn’t even time to shout; this is what he was waiting for. Dorian launches himself across the floor and slides to a stop at Orym’s side, hands grasping at whatever part of him he can reach.

“C’mon, Orym, up and at ‘em,” he mutters, the little bit of healing magic he has access to flowing into Orym’s forearm and shoulder. Orym shudders and stirs, blinking up at Dorian.

“Thank you, friend,” Orym breathes with a small smile. Dorian’s heart clenches in his chest and he huffs a little laugh of his own.

“Any time,” he murmurs, clutching Orym’s arm. “Any time.”

#critical role #campaign 3 #doriax #dorym #sometimes milo writes #listen dorian has two hands and just think he deserves to use them #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #dariax zaveon

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saphirered · 2 years

Note

Hello, I just discovered your beautiful blog! Is it possible to get a Dorian x reader where the reader falls asleep on his shoulder? Your writing has helped me fall asleep with finals stress❤️

The finals stress is real. I hope this one is to your liking. Don't forget to take care of yourself and rest enough. 😘

Ever since the trouble in Tal’Dorei you’ve taken it upon yourself to be the one looking over your collective shoulders. It’s been a burden you’d taken up on carrying. Orym had noticed but the others had not caught on yet since you set off for Marquet. You’d been a little more prickly, senses on high alert and while he might not have figured out why, Dorian had taken to do whatever he could to calm your nerves, make sure you’re comfortable, gently persuade anyone to back off if they stepped on your toes, and more.

You never used to be like this in the time Dorian’s known you and while at first he brushed it off as the tension of everything that happened and traveling for an extended period of time to big unknown cities, just weighing on you, he’s beginning to doubt that conclusion. Regardless, he doesn’t think it’s his place to enquire. He’ll do the little things for you he’s been doing, but won’t step in unless you ask for help. He’ll keep dropping hints he’s there for you though. And he’ll try to stop you from lashing out at anyone who makes the mistake of getting on your nerves. Try. The keyword here is try because there’s only so much he can do.

Once you’ve found a decent inn to crash at, rooms bought and food provided, you push yours around on your plate barely having taken a bite. The place just feels suffocating. You engage in the conversation going on at times but it just costs too much energy, the voices of the tables around are just deafening as you try to repress them and you’re just not having a great time so you get up, the eyes of the others falling on you as you push your plate towards Fearne, the monkey reaching from under her cape to grab whatever was closest to him while Fearne takes the rest.

“I’m just going to get some air. You think you can manage them on your own?” You ask. Orym simply nods, mouth full of food and Fearne barely even heard you over Mister’s screeching for more food.

“I’ll join you?” Dorian begins to get up but you place a hand on his arm before he rises fully and sits back down again.

“I won’t be long. I’ll be fine, Dorian.” This time you do force a smile and while the genasi might not be letting it go completely your insistence of wanting some time to yourself, is something he can understand so he’ll let it be choosing not to argue if this is what you need.

“Stay safe.” And with that you turn around leaving the tavern behind you, though you feel eyes on you all the way until you close the door behind you. The moment you step outside and the wind gently blows against your skin, rustling your clothes you already feel more at ease. You just choose to walk around the district for a while, stopping at a square and just sit down at one of the benches for a solid fifteen minutes before you make your way back to the inn.

In the mean time Dorian has managed to talk Fearne and Orym into sharing a room instead of you and the faun together under the guise of separating the chaos and spare you from feeling the need to watch over her to either have her back or assure no one comes find her for payback. Orym knew there was more to Dorian’s reasons other than the ones he presented, the main one being you needing a break and him making sure you’d actually sleep for once, so he went along with it, promising Fearne she could join on his early morning walk and they could go browsing at the market in the morning. Big mistake, both Dorian and Orym are aware but they’ll deal with the consequences later. Right now they need you to be alright.

So when you return to the inn, the sun has set and busy streets have calmed down a little. The tavern is still filled but you spot Dorian seated at the same table you’d left him at minus Fearne and Orym who’d retired but a few minutes ago. Of course the genasi offers you one of his welcoming smiles as you approach. He notices the clear exhaustion written on your face; your eyes red, circles beneath them dark, posture slumped, and you look like you’re dragging your feet despite your efforts not to.

“Hey, how was your walk?” Dorian asks as he hands you a drink he’d ordered for you earlier. Eagerly you take it and gulp it down. Perhaps it was a good call not to order any liquor.

“Refreshing, but exhausting. I think I’m going to head to bed. Sorry if you waited for me. If I’d known, I’d have told you not to.” You appreciate Dorian looking out for you but you’re fine. Okay, maybe you’re not entirely fine but you will be so no harm done. He’s a bit of a mother hen when it comes down to it but you really do appreciate him caring about you.

“About that, you’re rooming with me for the night.” You raise an eyebrow.

“Am I now? What will the others think?” You manage to joke and watch as Dorian goes to respond but realises what you said and closes his mouth again to process.

“If you have any hesitations about sharing a room I’ll tell Orym to switch-“ Dorian scrambles, rising to his feet. You place both hands on his shoulders to stop him from running off to ‘fix’ things and your lazy grin is more than enough for him to be at ease again.

“I’ll be fine as long as I have a relatively decent surface to crash on. Let’s head up. We need to be up bright and early after all.” He couldn’t agree more and allows you to lead the way, pulling him along behind you until you reach the room you rented, stepping in, dropping your things and taking one of the beds in the room, ungracefully plopping down onto the soft sheets with a groan. You earn a soft chuckle from Dorian as he places his own belongings on the small table.

You kick off your shoes an anything else not comfortable enough to sleep in before you crawl under the blankets and curl up, facing away from the rest of the room. You close your eyes and even out your breathing. It’s what you’ve been doing for weeks now. Pretend you’re asleep, wait for whoever’s awake to go to sleep and then just do whatever, keep guard, ponder life, the universe or just go over all the little things popping up in your mind, your thoughts keeping you awake. The image flashes before you once more. Crawling spiders. Whispers in the dark. Dorian veiled in a layer of cobwebs, wearing a barbed crown, a blank expression on his face, death and decay at his feet. Sleep doesn’t come anymore. Any urge to sleep disappears. Still you pretend.

You listen to the rustling and moving about in the room, waiting for that familiar sound of moving blankets, and evened breathing but it doesn’t come. Instead you feel the mattress dip, the blankets move taut as you grip them, someone sitting down and turning themselves. Then you hear the gentle creak of the headboard; someone leaning against it. You don’t respond. You don’t mind the intrusion, not at all. The bed is more than big enough for two. It’s the fact that you know the air genasi you’re sharing your room with does not fall asleep easily when seated, that’s what worries you. He’s trying to stay awake. Still you try to outlast but it’s just getting too much. You try to focus on the gentle breaths, any movement, or lack thereof, to see if he’s even close to slipping off but no. So you give in.

“What are you doing?” You roll over onto your back, staring up at the genasi, who sits, legs stretched out crossed at the ankles, head leaning back against the headboard and hands folded, relaxed, staring out into the distance like it’s the most usual thing in the world, like he has no urge to catch any sleep.

“What do you mean?” Dorian asks innocently, shifting slightly to better look at you.

“You know what I mean.” You roll your eyes. It’s just the tiniest bit frustrating how nonchalantly he handles this.

“Oh, you mean me sitting here? I’m just doing what you’ve been doing the past few weeks. I simply thought to return the favour. Don’t you worry, you can rest easy now. I’ll stay awake on your behalf.” He speaks in a tone befitting some stick-up-the-arse hero with a hint of smugness.

“Do you have any idea how stupid you sound?” You ask sitting up.

“Oh, of course I do. That’s exactly why I’m wondering why you feel the need to keep valiant watch. Mind enlightening me?” Cat’s out of the bag. You’re having this conversation apparently so you sigh, leaning your head back. There’s no point in denying it or trying to change the subject. You’re done for, called out so you might as well come clean.

“I’m just… worried. After everything that’s happened, that's been going on.” The way the words come out, Dorian feels sorry for you, especially for not addressing this problem sooner but he won’t linger on the past as it won’t do either of you any good. He’s just glad he’s here with you now.

“It’s alright. We’re all worried but nothing is going to come hunt us down in the night. We’ll be safe. Especially now in the cities. You don’t need to keep guard forever.”

“It wouldn’t be forever…” You defend shamefully.

“It certainly won’t if you pass out from lack of sleep or barely have enough energy to fight when trouble does find us. You’ll do little good keeping the dangers away if you can’t lift an arm or cast a spell. You need rest. You’re not invincible.” You know Dorian’s right. You damn well know he is but the need to watch over your friends, is but a small part of your struggle to sleep. And even if your fears are unreasonable, better safe than sorry. But then comes that voice again, Dorian’s voice telling you even if, there’s nothing you can do about it.

“Could you promise me something?” You try to find a compromise to your own mind, so perhaps you’ll know a moment of peace. Let’s hope it works.

“Of course.” Dorian nods so when you shift, to look at him properly he adjusts with you. You hold his gaze as he waits expectantly.

“Could you promise me that no matter what, you won’t condemn yourself for the rest of us?” Dorian’s taken aback by your request. Not the request specifically but he questions why you feel the need to ask this. The lives of adventurers are not without risks and you’re well aware but he feels like that’s not what you’re hinting at. ‘Condemn’ the word rings through his head and for a brief second he feels the phantom crawling of eight legs behind his ear, ready to whisper. He resists the urge to scratch, knowing there’s nothing there, not really.

“Will that help you sleep at night?” He had to ask.

“I don’t know. But it certainly won’t hurt.” You admit and that makes him realise, you’re as much at your wits end as he is when it comes down to it. Maybe after some good sleep, you both can sit down together, talk this over and find a more permanent fix to your problems. Rest first.

“Then I promise to not go off making deals with evil beings and stay out of trouble. And if I don’t I give you my full consent to kick my ass if you feel the need to.” You chuckle but it ends in a yawn when you wrap your arms around Dorian.

“Thank you and I will most certainly hold you to that promise.” You pull yourself against him, arm wrapping around you in return as he places a kiss on the top of your head.

“I will hold you to it.” He tries to repress a yawn of his own and succeeds.

Dorian brushes his fingers up and down your arm as you rest your head against his shoulder, welcoming the warmth of the embrace with a deep sigh, making yourself more comfortable in your position, your body has no energy left to move so you’ll the the comforts of the air genasi next to you. He doesn’t mind either and watches as your eyes fall closed and breathing begins to slow evenly, your hold on him loosening and limbs growing more heavy. If anything he’s glad you’ve found sleep and despite the fact the seated position is probably going to result in some sore muscles for the both of you, it’s worth it. The movement of his fingers grows more inconsistent, his eyelids becoming heavier by the second as he finds himself leaning into your own form, cheek atop your crown he finds himself dozing off too.

Your night is not plagued by nightmares and sleep is peaceful. Turns out you don’t have to be awake to keep troubles at bay, Dorian’s proven that much and he’ll keep this habit going, falling asleep with you if only to help you rest more easily. Besides, he can’t say he minds. Your own embrace brings him comfort too, and not just because it means you’re taking care of yourself and he’ll know you’re alright, but simply in the fact that you can find that comfort within each other. That is a blessing in its own right.

#critical role x reader #campaign 3 x reader #dorian storm x reader #dorian x reader #exu x reader #exandria unlimited x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #bells hells

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divinesouldariax · 2 years

Text

Spoilers and content warnings for Critical Role campaign 3 episode 33

“I’m just saying, I think we can probably make it on the bar,” Dariax was insisting. “We just gotta make sure to bring enough food and–”

“We have plenty of money to get airship tickets!” Opal argued. “We have enough money to BUY an airship, or bribe somebody into looking away while we steal one.”

“We are not stealing an airship,” Fy’ra Rai said wearily. “And we are not traveling across the Ozmit Sea on a floating bar.”

“Aw,” Morr said. “I kinda like the idea of stealing an airship.”

Sitting on the brick steps in front of the ramshackle, abandoned house they had been staying in while they debated their next move, Dorian gazed idly up at the sky. He knew what they would eventually settle on. There was no way they would be doing anything other than using disguises and leaving Emon by airship to head back to Jrusar and hopefully meet up with Orym and Fearne and the rest of Bell’s Hells. It was the only thing that even remotely made sense. At this point, the arguing was more for fun than for function.

"Should we vote?" Cyrus said tentatively.

"We are not voting, there is nothing to vote about!" said Fy'ra Rai. "We--" Suddenly, she gasped like something had struck her and knocked all of the air from her lungs. Her eyes flicked back in her head, which tilted up with her mouth slightly open.

Dorian sat forward.

Then Dariax gasped, too. His hand went to the compass around his neck.

"Oh, shit," whispered Opal, leaning closer to Dorian.

As if sensing that something important was happening, Morr and Cyrus went silent and stared at Dariax and Fy'ra Rai with wide eyes.

Fy'ra Rai came back to herself first. Her hand flew up to her heart, and she was breathing shallowly. "No," she whispered. She looked over and noticed that Dariax was still seemingly lost in some kind of trance. Dorian wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, but didn't want to startle him out of it.

"What did you see?" he asked Fy'ra Rai quietly.

Her head snapped towards him. Her golden-red eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and Dorian felt a mote of dread form in his chest.

"What did you see?" he repeated.

"Just a spark, a draw, towards Marquet," Fy'ra Rai told him. "They are in trouble. More danger than they have ever been before."

Out of the corner of his eye, Dorian could see Dariax trembling. A tear was slipping down his cheek towards his beard. "Do you think Dariax is seeing the same thing?" Dorian asked.

"I do not know. His Gift is...a little different, I do not understand it." She swallowed. "You have a way to reach out to them, yes?"

Without realizing it, Dorian was already reaching into his pocket to wrap his fingers around the sending stone. "Yes, but if they're in trouble, I shouldn't distract them, right?"

"I do not know," she repeated. "I don't--"

Dariax inhaled sharply, doubling over with a strangled sound of distress. Opal started patting him on the back. "Oh, gods," Dariax managed. "Oh, fuck!"

"What is it?" Dorian demanded.

"Orym and Fearne." Dariax was pushing his hand against the center of his chest, reeling and wincing. "They're...they're…oh, gods. No, that can't be right. Fy'ra, that can't be right, right? They can't be."

Fy'ra Rai was shaking her head. "I just know the danger. I just know--" She cried out, her eyes closing. "No!"

Dorian scrambled closer to both of them, grabbing Dariax's hands. "What did you see?" he all but begged.

"It's too late," Fy'ra choked out. "We cannot help them." She sank to her knees.

Dariax met Dorian's frantic gaze. "There was a lady with grey hair," he breathed. "And she split herself into pieces, and they all had swords, and...Orym fell, and she…" He ripped a hand free to clutch uselessly at his chest again like there was a sword there. "And then Fearne, too...there was screaming, a-and...and a sandstorm. And they both…"

"You saw it? You're sure?" Dorian couldn't accept it. Bell's Hells wouldn't let that happen. "It's not--the future? It happened now?"

More tears were spilling down Dariax's cheeks. “I don’t wanna believe it,” he said. “Dorian…”

"No. No!" Dorian said.

Opal had a hand to her mouth, breathing in shaky little sobs. Morr and Cyrus had scooted over closer to the rest of them, looking solemn and concerned.

Numb, Dorian put his arm out to let Opal collapse against his side and held her tightly. "Maybe Letters can still save them," he murmured. I should never have left. "Maybe...maybe somebody can still save them." Don't die. I told him not to die. Why the fuck didn't he listen to me? "They can't just be gone. That doesn't make any sense." I told him not to die. He pulled the sending stone from his pocket and stared at it, half-waiting for a glow and a familiar, comforting voice.

Dariax crumpled into Dorian’s lap, burying his face in his side and shuddering. Dorian put an arm around him too, reflexively.

He looked over to Fy’ra Rai. “It doesn’t make sense,” he stated again.

“It never does, little brother.” Her tears let off a little bit of steam as they fell.

“But if they–they can’t be gone.” Something broke inside of him. Dorian stopped breathing. He couldn’t keep breathing when he didn’t know if Orym and Fearne were…if they ever would again.

And the rest of Bell’s Hells. If Orym and Fearne had…fallen, where was everyone else? Were they alone? Were they all so outmatched that the entire group had…

He just didn’t know. He couldn’t know. His chest felt tight, like a chain had wrapped around his heart and lungs and was squeezing, squeezing until tears sprang to his eyes and his vision went a little grey, and he wasn’t breathing, and he didn’t need to breathe but he was suffocating anyway. Dorian stared at the small blue stone in his hand, blurred beyond tears, and rubbed his thumb over it.

It glowed.

“Tell me you and Fearne are alive,” Dorian pleaded. “We’re trying to get to you. We’re coming back. You can’t die. We love you. I love you.” The glow faded, but Dorian didn’t stop talking, using all the air he had stored away with his last breath. “You can’t die. Orym. Fearne. Orym, Fearne, talk to me. Tell me you’re alright. Don’t leave me. Don’t you two leave me, I was coming back to you. I’m coming back. I’m so sorry I left you, I’m so sorry, please don’t leave m-me–” His voice faltered, weakening, unable to get more words out without taking another breath, which he wouldn’t do. He kept mouthing the words. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.

The stone in his hand remained dull and silent. Past the rushing in his ears, Dorian could hear his friends sobbing. He wasn’t sure if he had joined them. Everything was spinning. Why did his chest hurt so much? He didn’t need to breathe. He wasn’t going to breathe ever again. Not until he heard their voices.

But the stone was still silent, and Dorian’s mouth was still moving.

Don’t leave me.

#critical role spoilers #cr spoilers #critical role c3e33 #my writing #haha anyway! i am not okay <3 #fy'ra rai knows when her family is in danger that is how her Gift works #and i'm going with my rules for dariax that i used in the path we walk #did i cry writing this? maybe. u cant prove anything.

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sociallyawkwardfoxwriter · 2 years

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Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Major Character Death Category: M/M Fandoms: Critical Role (Web Series),Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse) Relationships: Orym/Dorian Storm, Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield Characters: Orym (Critical Role), Dorian Storm, Leon S. Kennedy, Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers, Imogen Temult, Ashton Greymoore, Cyrus Wyvernwind, Piers Nivans, Laudna (Critical Role), Fearne Calloway Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Nightmares, Burns, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Orym's Dead Spouse (Critical Role), Sobbing, Human Experimentation, Stitches, drugged, Hospitals, Injury Recovery, Chronic Pain, Scars, Strangulation, Panic, Mind Control, Dissociation, Depression

Day Seventeen. Self-Inflicted Wound

“I think we're far enough away that we can stop to rest for a little while, brother.”

“Considering Lord Eshteross told us the bounty on you is enough for people to chase you to the edges of Marquet, I don't think that's true.”

“All the same,” A hand gave his shoulder a firm squeeze that he knew wouldn’t release until he finally relented. “I think we can spare a few hours to rest. You've been pushing yourself for hours. You need a break.”

“Fine, but only because I know you won't stop asking if we don't. We'll rest for an hour, then we keep moving.”

After stepping off the main path a little ways to find a suitable spot, they both found space to rest their weary legs. Both stayed in silence while they took time to drink water and eat a small snack to tide them over for a while. In that silence, he tried to not let the thoughts threatening to overtake him get a foothold. He had counted on Cyrus to fill the void where his traveling companions used to be before they left. It had taken the distraction to avoid the question of whether he made the right decision in doing so.

Hadn't that been why he didn't even say a word to the others when he decided to get his brother out of Jrusar? All he left was a single note addressed to the group and the two sending stones that rightfully belonged to them. A part of him had considered only leaving one, but that felt like asking for them to follow him or for them to convince them to come back. That's also why the letter he wrote to Orym was now crumpled in his bag-at least that's what he kept telling himself. He couldn't bring himself to consider the other reasons he might have had for crumpling it up.

“What are you thinking about?”

“We should get moving.”

“You wouldn't be making that face if that's what you were thinking about.”

“I'm not making a face.”

“Yes, you are. It's like...” Cyrus put on an exaggerated frown with his bottom lip stuck out and eye downcast. “That's what you look like right now.”

“No, I don't. I don't think anyone has ever made that face except for you.”

“You get the point! You're obviously thinking about something. Talk to me.”

“We should get moving, Cyrus. If someone was following us, we're giving them time to catch up or come up with a plan to get you.”

“We'll be fine for a few more minutes. Just talk to me, Dorian. You showed up out of nowhere saying we needed to get out of the city and find a way to leave Marquet. I thought we would be meeting your friends, but that's obviously not happening. Did something happen? Are they the ones you think are following us?”

“No, of course not! They wouldn't do that. None of them would do that.”

“Then what's going on? You've been quiet the entire time. Something is wrong. You might have changed, but I can still tell that much.”

For a moment, a lie danced on the tip of his tongue-it would be so much easier, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. “They're not coming because I didn't tell them. They've already risked so much to try to clear up this bounty. I couldn't ask them to do more than they already have.”

“You didn't tell them anything?”

“I left a note explaining things to them, but I didn't talk to them about it.”

“Why not? Aren't they your friends? I'm sure they would understand.”

“They would have wanted to come, and I couldn't let them do that.”

“Shouldn't that be their decision to make?” When Dorian couldn't find the words to respond, Cyrus shifted closer, so their shoulders bumped together. “What's the real reason you didn't tell them your plan? They obviously care about you. If they didn't, they wouldn't have tried to help me. I'm a complete stranger to them.”

“That's the problem. They care too much.”

“Isn't that a good thing?”

“Not if it gets them killed.”

“Is that all you're worried about?”

“Of course, I'm worried about that! I wouldn't have bothered getting you out of Jrusar if I wasn't worried about that.”

“I know you're worried about that, but I don't think that's the only reason you didn't tell the others.”

“What other reason do I have?”

“When you gave me that rock, you said someone else would have the other one and that you trusted them. I think you meant more than that.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Do you love them?”

“It doesn't matter.” After pulling on his bag, Dorian quickly stood up. “I can't risk them getting hurt because of me. It's better to take the decision out of their hands.”

“What happens if they try to follow us? They could still end up getting hurt and you wouldn't be able to help.”

“They won't. I didn't tell them where we were going. All I told them is I'm getting you to safety and I'll come back after I do that.”

“Do you really think that will stop them from trying?”

“It has to be enough.”

“You shouldn't have left them. I know you didn't want to. You were happy with them. Happier than I've ever seen you before. I don't want you to risk losing that.”

To fight back the tears threatening to slip free, Dorian took a moment to breathe before speaking. “That's what I'm doing. They might be mad at me when I come back, but it's worth it knowing they'll all survive. All I'm trying to do is keep them safe. Hopefully, they understand that.”

“What if they don't?”

“It will still be worth it. As long as they're alive, it's worth it.”

“I don't like that you're putting your happiness at risk for me. You could be walking away from the love of your life right now!”

“I don't want to talk about that, Cyrus. He'll understand. He always does, and he's safe with the group. They'll protect him. I know they will.”

“No matter what happens, promise me you'll go back to him. I like seeing my brother happy.”

“I will. That was always the plan. It might take longer than I'd like, but I'll go back to him when it's safe.”

“Good.” The smile Cyrus gave him was so reassuring that it almost did enough to stem the bleeding of his wounded heart. “What do you say we go a few more hours, then call it a night?”

“Sounds like a good plan. Stick close to me. We don't want to lose each other.”

“I'll be right behind you the whole time.”

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday17 #self-inflicted wounds #critical role #dorym #dorian storm #cyrus wyvernwind #hurt/comfort #fanfic

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punkrockgenasiashton · 3 years

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So, I haven’t rewatched episode 1 of campaign 3 yet (I probably will this weekend because you miss some stuff watching it with people reacting), but having slept on it and collected my thoughts a little I figured I’d put them down on a page.

First and foremost, and the biggest reason I want to rewatch it, is the setting. Idk if it was just how tired I was, the fact that friends and I were talking a bit, but I didn’t feel like I got sucked all the way into Marquet, or the city that they’re in. From the bits I did absorb it sounded incredible and lovely, and I’d like very much to fully submerge myself in it.

I love all the characters. Imogen’s seemingly simple goal of just getting into the dang library leaves a lot of room to play with and asks all sorts of questions about why she wants in there. Ashton, clearly by my already brand new blog name, is an early favorite. I’ve already seen people point out the similarities between Ashton and Molly, but I think those are surface level/aesthetic at most. Ashton’s whole attitude is something I vibe with much more than I ever did Molly (who I found stuck up). Laudna is mine (and Imogen’s?) goth girlfriend and anyone slandering her name will be ended. Also because she mentioned she’s from Whitestone there’s already a whole lot of theories floating around. To step on a rake again (I got Artagan isn’t the Traveler AND Werewolf Caleb dead wrong), I think this is a red herring. At this point we’re ~50-60 years since Whitestone fell to the Briarwoods, I think Laudna being from Whitestone is incidental. Finally, for brand new characters, I would take a bullet for Freshly Cut Grass and put a bullet in anyone attempting to make their day slightly worse.

Now, for the contentious bit. As I said, I love the characters, they all seem deep and interesting and worthy of exploration, but the characters chosen, the mechanics of the game behind one, and their introduction has set me a bit unease. I’m talking, specifically of course, about the ExU crew and the return of Bertarum Bell.

Let’s start with Bell. I love Travis’ portrayal of him, and if I’m wrong and he’s around for the long haul I’ll be pumped for it. That said, it very much feels like he’s a temporary character. His age, the fact that he was originally introduced as a level 18 character in a campaign 1 one shot but is now level 5, the fact that he’s two (important) levels ahead of the rest of the party, and his interactions with the party (acting as almost a talent scout or a head hunter) all give the distinct impression that he’s less of a long term character and more of a plot device to put the group in contact with the orc man they met at the end of the episode.

And that leaves the ExU folks. (and for the record this is coming from somebody who hasn’t found time to watch ExU) Individually, as characters, I think they’re great. I already love Fearne’s kinda spacy weirdness. She’s the criminal stoner to Cad’s chill stoner and I love her for it. Dorian has anxiety and is a hot boi, but I didn’t really get anything else from him. Robbie has a great energy though ooc. Orym’s also a bit of a mystery. I love how Liam verbalizes his combat though. Tricky fucker is bouncing around all over the place. That said, their mission to find someone and bring them back to Tal’dorei also gives the vibe that their temporary characters.

And the fact that exactly half the party feels like they’re stand in/temporary characters leaves me with a sense of...unease and unpredictability. And not the “I’m excited to see what happens next” kind of unpredictability, but the “I’m nervous this entire thing is going to fall apart or worse the players will try to hold it together despite there being no narrative or character purpose to do so” kind.

There’s also something just...odd about only one player character being confirmed as from Marquet, and that one character having spent a large and recent chunk of time away from there. I know they stressed that story is only ‘beginning’ in Marquet, but it really does feel like a large chunk of the party would leave Marquet tomorrow if, say Imogen and Laudna learn about the Cobalt Soul libraries and Ashton heard he could get work in Emon.

Also, and this is just a personal grumpy note, I would really like to know the player’s subclasses please. Combat is much more engaging and easier to enjoy if you’re not spending most of it asking the person you’re watching with or yourself “wait, what are they doing? How are they doing it?” Obviously some surprises are nice, but part of my enjoyment of combat is like watching a sport or a super hero movie, I like to know what the guys I’m rooting for are capable of.

That said, overall I am excited. I’m not going to stop watching because of my dislikes and initial reactions to the ExU crew and Bell’s seeming temporary status. I’m pumped to see what stories Matt’s going to tell, and to the party’s credit, one episode in, they seem to be far more willing to engage in Plot than the Nein did early on.

Anyway, I’d love to hear anyone’s opinions, either in agreement or dissenting.

#critical role #cr campaign 3 #cr spoilers #cr campaign 3 spoilers

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railroad-migraine · 2 years

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Reuniting with the Crown Keepers

Some headcanons that I wrote today. I'm dealing with a family disaster at the moment so this was kinda a distraction when I should have been doing my storyboard project but it's all good.

Enjoy this GN!Reader leaving Bell's Hells with Dorian and Cyrus, and returning to their significant other x

~ Poet

Dariax

He tries to appear calm and collected when his gaze slides past Dorian and his brother, to you, in the middle of greeting the girls. He's itching to run over and hug you, but he doesn't want to come on too strong. So he spends the first few minutes of your return catching up with the prodigal bard and realising he's got something against Cyrus.

When you glance his way, he makes an effort to avoid eye contact, trying to be as aloof as he can be. When you manage to pry yourself from Opal's hug and stand before him, he casually leans on his spear and says "Hey you~ Missed me? Finally got bored of your vacation?" With a soft smile, you remind him that it was a mission on Orym's behalf, but he waves your comment away. You totally missed him.

You met a robot?? That's so fricking cool, what?? And you fought a wall that ate people?? He groans in frustration when you tell him about all the people you've met and the badass stuff you did, but brightens up when you promise to take him on an airship one day.

He's got his chin perched on your shoulder at the gambling table, gazing up at you with devoted heart eyes as you retell some of your Bell's Hells adventures. In the middle of one of you stories, he tugs on your shirt collar so you are at his height, before sealing his lips to your own - he doesn't care about looking cool anymore, he is just so happy to have you back. (Even if you brought Dorian's brother who's on thin ice) Totally asks for a second kiss for luck when it's his turn in the game.

Fy'ra Rai

Her hands flex on where she's gripping her staff, her mind elsewhere when you step into the tavern. She shakes her faraway thoughts away when Dariax excitedly points you out amongst the crowd, perfectly blended by yourself but sticking out like a sore thumb with the Wyvernwinds in tow. The corners of her lips twitch upwards, the reality that you're back comforting.

Her posture straightens and she manages to restrain herself while you accept Opal and Dariax's greetings, giving you a moment to reacquaint yourself with them. The moment they've turned to Dorian however, she pulls you into a brief, but tight hug, her grip like a comforting vice before pulling away. Not one for too much public displays of affection, she gingerly lifts your hand and places a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

"I, ah..." Her hair flickers briefly, wild and untamed, and your face warms at her sudden shyness. "I trust that your trip went safely and according to plan, yes? Tell me, how are Fearne and Orym? Still alive, one can hope."

Should you bring up the tiny werewolf and sweet, half-dead woman in your newfound adventuring party, she simply rolls her eyes lightheartedly - and she thought this was a chaotic bunch to watch out for.

Opal

"Get out of my way! They just came back from Marquet!" There's a loud commotion when she spots you at a distance, a blue skinned genasi on either side of you, and breaks into a full sprint. She pushes through the crowded tavern and nearly ends up tackling you to the ground with her hug. You stumble and hold onto her for balance as she squeals, "I knew you'd come back to me. Get a load of that, Ted!"

She feels... Different. You can't quite place it, because she looks just as you remember her before the whole Spider Queen situation, but when she leans back from your embrace there's a slight shimmer and delay around her forehead, as if there was an overlap of realities.

Despite your concerns, you happily accept the slightly sticky kiss she presses to your cheek, accompanied by the many smaller ones peppering the rest of your face. Opal is buzzing with energy now that you're around again, so excited to what you both will get up to together. She immediately starts asking about your latest adventures and new group of friends.

She's particularly interested in your retired warrior/baker employer, what with her Byroden pie customs. She also wants to hear about your new telepath friend who also hears voices that don't belong to her and has a dazzling and unique hair colour... Remind you of anyone?

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standbyyourmantis · 2 years

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Kiss Me and Smile For Me - Chapter 1/?

When famous singer Dorian Storm catches his fiance in the arms of another on the sofa of his dressing room minutes before they're supposed to go on stage to get married, he maybe doesn't handle it as well as he could. Orym is only at this concert to keep his friends company and it's just a coincidence he happens to be holding a sign offering to marry Dorian. The two men must then navigate their "marriage" in the public eye as well as the very public breakup Dorian just went through, a lot of emotional baggage, and - worst of all - a budding attraction that neither one was really looking for.

(Just FYI, I am taking prompts on this fic if you have anything you’d like to see happen!)

Please note, there is a trigger warning on this chapter for Dorian basically having a full blown panic attack for a solid portion of it.

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: CALL ME IF IT DOESN’T WORK OUT 🍆💦

Orym didn’t know that he’d ever get used to the desert heat, or that he wanted to. It was an intense sort of heat that baked everything all day only to have the ground return the heat once the sun had set, leaving the air around him nearly as warm as it was during the day. The scorching intensity of the sun was nothing like home - nothing like Zephrah with its trees and rivers and abundant greenery - but then, that had been the point. He had been looking for a place to start over, and the fourth floor walk-up in the middle of the desert city was as far from his old life (both geographically and tonally) as he’d been able to find.

Really, it had been a good change. He liked the city, as much as the weather sometimes got to him (as well as the insistence of the locals that it was a dry heat, as though that made it any more pleasant to walk across a parking lot in the middle of summer), life in Marquet was an odd sort of freedom. Freedom from memories, from a life that he was moving farther away from each day. Or, more accurately, from a life that was continuing even as he was stuck in place. He had a job here, and friends - including his roommate Fearne, a kindergarten teacher who he had met after answering her ad. The faun had been a little intimidating at first; she was extremely forward and more than a little chaotic, and Orym was pretty sure that she’d stolen every plate and piece of silverware in their small kitchen from various restaurants and diners one piece at a time, but they got on well and she’d been the first thing anchoring him to this new life in this new place.

Fearne had been the one to insist he make other friends, and was also the one currently waiting for him outside the Imperial Ank’Harel Amphitheater ahead of the Dorian Storm concert she’d gotten tickets for. Originally, the three tickets were for her, her friend and coworker Imogen, and Laudna, who Orym was pretty sure was Imogen’s girlfriend, but at this point he was too afraid to ask. Laudna, though, had something come up and couldn’t make the concert, and both women had insisted Orym come along so that the ticket didn’t go to waste. He’d tried to beg off; he wasn’t actually a big fan of most pop music and Dorian Storm had a reputation for having a slightly unhinged fanbase. However, every other option of their friend group had already been ruled out - Ashton had refused even more strongly than Orym had tried, Fresh Cut Grass had to work at the hospital, and Imogen flatly refused to be in any social situation that had both Fearne and Chetney without anyone else there to distract her from the constant and frankly unsettling flirting that tended to happen.

And so, Orym was the one pressing through the crush of bodies trying to catch a glimpse of sage green hair and antlers that tended to stick out above the tops of heads. Unfortunately, between his halfling stature and the sheer volume of people trying to get into the building, unless he bumped into her accidentally, he couldn’t get enough space to actually see anything except a sea of asses. Finally, he gave the exercise up as futile, instead quickly scaling a lamppost to allow him enough of a view to finally - finally - catch sight of not only Fearne, but also Imogen’s distinctive lavender hair. Imogen was turned away from him and seemed agitated, but Fearne quickly caught sight of him and started waving broadly as he hopped down off the lamp (apologizing to the tabaxi he almost tripped in the process) and nimbly worked his way through the crowd towards his friends.

“Hey!” he exclaimed in greeting as soon as he was within earshot of the women. “How are my two favorite - oh my gods, Fearne.”

“What?” the faun said with an innocence that could be put-on or could be sincere, but the large, brightly colored CALL ME IF IT DOESN’T WORK OUT sign complete with a hand-drawn eggplant and water droplets emoji tended to point towards the former.

“Orym, tell her she can’t take that thing inside,” Imogen said to him with a world-weary sigh that told him he’d walked in at the tail end of this particular conversation.

“It’s encouraging, though,” Fearne said sweetly. “It’s good to know you have options.”

“Fearne, you can’t proposition one of the grooms.”

“Okay first of all, there’s no confirmation that it will actually be a wedding today, it may just be a publicity stunt. And who said I was only interested in one of them?”

“Wait,” Orym said as the gears in his head processed the conversation. “Wedding? Grooms?”

“It’s probably just a publicity stunt,” Fearne insisted. “But yeah, that’s why these tickets were so hard to get. There’s a theory that Dorian Storm and Jaylan Hartfury are going to get married live on stage today.”

“It’s basically been confirmed,” Imogen continued patiently, still eyeing Fearne’s sign as though she were worried it was going to grow fangs and attack her. “There was a blind item on Exandria Unlimited about a celebrity couple planning a surprise wedding at a concert in Marquet this week. There are only a handful of singers touring the country this month and not only is Dorian Storm the most famous of the bunch, he also got very publicly engaged to Jaylan Hartfury three months ago.”

“And neither one of them denied it when people asked on social media,” Fearne added. “That’s good confirmation.”

Orym made a noncommittal hum as he put together this information while Imogen and Fearne continued bickering about the sign (“maybe if you just took off the emojis?”). He only really knew anything about Dorian Storm from Fearne, but he also wasn’t much of a music person beyond the stuff they used in the classes he taught at the gym, which tended to be instrumental dance music. Jaylan Hartfury, however, was a name he did recognize. The half-elf was fairly handsome with big blue eyes and dark brown hair, and had won several awards for his performances in the sorts of art films that Will had always enjoyed and that Orym had dutifully gone to see with him. The man wasn’t a bad actor by any means, but it wasn’t any secret that he was incredibly pretentious and made the lives of his co-stars miserable with his extreme method acting on set. Orym had never been a huge fan, and what little he knew of Dorian Storm as a person, the knowledge he was apparently marrying Jaylan Hartfury at a concert didn’t give him a particularly favorable image.

Orym was brought back out of his thoughts when Fearne let out a huff before dumping the large tote bag she used as a purse onto the sidewalk and plopping down onto the ground next to the pile of keys, loose cutlery, and various art supplies.

“Thank you, Fearne.” The relief in Imogen’s voice meant she had won the argument over the sign, and Orym watched as Fearne folded her original sign in half to hide the first set of text and began writing out MARRY ME INSTEAD in her neat block letters before surrounding the words in little hearts. It still wasn’t ideal, but from the look of things she wouldn’t be the only one holding a sign in that vein, so he figured it would be alright to let it slide.

With the sign drama settled and Fearne’s possessions back in her bag, the women decided it was time to head inside. Orym made sure to stick close to his friends, not wanting to risk getting separated from them again since they had the tickets and the ability to see at eye level with most everyone here. Orym wasn’t the only halfling in attendance (there were also a smattering of gnomes and even a goblin or two), and since it was a larger venue there were ordinances requiring various accommodations on request, but the ability to get a raised seat if he wanted one didn’t make maneuvering through the crowds any easier when they were packed as densely as this one was.

“So how did you get these seats again?” he asked Imogen as they made their way to the front of the audience, and Orym realized that they were third row dead center. These were amazing seats. Orym wasn’t even a fan of this singer and was excited at their proximity to the stage. There were any number of people in the audience who would have committed a number of criminal offenses to be where he was.

“The manager’s daughter was in my class last year. She was having some issues with reading and I got her a referral for some extra testing.”

“And he gave you these tickets as a thank you?”

“Orym, I’m shocked. That would be a complete conflict of interest. He gave me the tickets after she wasn’t in my class anymore because he knew Laudna and I were fans. That’s all.”

“Speaking of Laudna, where is she?”

Laudna was Imogen’s spooky shadow, and so far all he’d been able to discern of their relationship was that they lived together. There were two bedrooms, with the one that was Laudna’s clearly being used as a craft room with a dedicated work table and piles of marionettes and embroidery projects scattered around on the comfortable looking daybed, but the other room had a master bedroom with two hairbrushes on the vanity that he’d seen the few times he’d been to gatherings at their house and someone else was using the other bathroom. Making matters worse, nobody else in their small group seemed to be sure whether the two were a couple or not. Ashton swore up and down that they’d seen Imogen in a shirt that Laudna wore later that evening, and Fearne said that they danced together while chaperoning a 5th grade dance the year before Orym moved to town, but there were also perfectly innocent explanations for all those things as well. At this point nobody felt comfortable asking because they’d all known each other so long, and while it wasn’t necessarily his business, Orym had to admit that the mystery of it intrigued him. He didn’t need to know, but damned if he didn’t want to know.

“Oh, she had to work.”

“I thought one of the benefits of being an independent artisan was making your own hours?”

“Usually it is, but there was a convention in Jrusar this weekend and well, you can’t pay the bills with fun experiences.”

There was a wistfulness to her voice that Orym mentally added to his list of evidence they were dating, but then again they were also at a concert to watch an objectively attractive man singing pop songs and gyrating. Deciding to table the issue for the time being, he nodded sympathetically and then turned towards his phone, letting the ambient noise of the people surrounding him fade into the background as he looked up information on Dorian Storm so at least he could pretend to know what was going on during this thing.

It was a pretty standard pop star bio from a cursory glance - the first big hits all surrounded the engagement to Jaylan Hartfury, but even scrolling down, it was hard to find pictures of Dorian that weren’t either with Jaylan or else an album cover. The two were photographed together constantly in coordinating outfits, even when going to the gym or picking up coffee. Dorian at least had a nice smile, but Jaylan somehow never managed more than a smirk. And now Orym was apparently going to be watching their wedding.

“Doesn’t it seem a little strange to be at the wedding of strangers?” he said before he could stop himself. “Like, we don’t even know these people, but we’re here instead of their friends and family?”

“It is a little weird,” Imogen replied. “But they’re celebrities, things are different.”

“It’s probably not even a legal wedding,” Fearne added. “These kinds of things there’s usually a pre-nup and everything. I bet they take care of all the paperwork and the legal aspect ahead of time and this is just for cameras.”

“Yeah, probably.” Orym still couldn’t get past the wave of discomfort that had hit him since finding out he was attending a wedding, but instead he turned his attention back to his phone to wait for the concert to begin.

“I am happy for you, Bron. You know I’d be there if I could be.”

Dorian Storm was losing his mind. That was the only explanation for why nobody else was making any sense right now, and for why he’d decided it was a good idea to talk to his brother, of all people, ahead of the biggest moment of his life.

“Cyrus, can’t you at least try to be happy for me?” he said into his phone.

“We’re literally in Ank’Harel. It’s not that far.”

There was a deep sigh on the other end, and Dorian could hear his brother moving to another room and shutting the door before speaking again. “It’s not that simple. Mom and Dad are…”

“I know, I know.” Dorian had made his choice on whether or not to be a part of the Wyvernwind family years ago, and he didn’t regret that decision, really. He’d had the misfortune of being born into a family that he could never be happy in, and leaving had been the right choice. He’d found a family in Ank’Harel playing music in shitty bars and now he was back here to get married in front of the only people who’d ever accepted him. Still, it didn’t necessarily make his brother not being there any easier.

“You know I’d come if I could,” Cyrus said.

“Are they still pretending I’m dead?” Dorian said as lightly as he could, hoping to disguise the bitterness he felt.

“Nobody pretends you’re dead.”

“No? What’s the story, then? Studying in Emon? Married a Xhorhasian baron?”

“They…stopped telling people about you,” Cyrus said in a quiet voice. “I’ve never gone along with it,” he added quickly. “Like, if someone asks I tell them you’re a singer.”

Somehow, that actually hurt worse than the Xhorhasian baron story would have. There was a time in his life when running off to Rosohna would have been an absolute dream.

“I have to go, Cyrus. I have a concert to perform and a wedding to be in.”

“Right. Right. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thank you. Make sure to check the news for pictures, I’m sure they’ll be up later tonight.” Dorian set the phone down on his vanity and took a deep breath to steady himself. He could do this. When Jaylan had first broached the idea of a big surprise wedding, he’d been hesitant for exactly this reason. But the more they’d discussed it, the better the idea had seemed. After all, Ank’Harel had been there for Dorian when he first ran away. It had led him to this life that he loved. And now he was getting married for the people who actually loved and supported him, not the ones who had always tried to force him to be something he had never wanted to be. This was going to be fantastic, and he was going to have a fantastic story to tell his grandchildren someday.

The door to the dressing room swung open and Dorian had a brief moment of tension before Jaylan sauntered through the door. He was already wearing half of his wedding suit: a pair of black trousers with a high collared shirt over top. There was a long black robe and a delicate series of silver chains that Dorian knew were supposed to go over his shoulders later, but they'd clearly been left off for now.

"There's my beautiful fiance!" Jaylan exclaimed with a grin. He bounded over and pressed a kiss to the top of Dorian's head before pulling back and looking at him, putting a hand under Dorian's chin and tilting his head back to get a better look at his face. Dorian let himself be adjusted, meeting the half-elf's grey-blue eyes. "Uh-oh, something's wrong."

"It's nothing," Dorian said reflexively, before adding, "I was just talking to my brother."

Jaylan tutted a little, bending down to press a quick kiss to Dorian's lips. "I don't know why you bother with that. It always upsets you."

"I know, but he's my brother."

"And today is your wedding day." Jaylan reached with the hand not on Dorian's chin to pry the cellphone from blue fingers and set it on the other side of the vanity table. Dorian hadn't even noticed how tightly he was clutching it until it was out of his hand. "You shouldn't let people upset you like this "

Dorian turned away from the hand on his chin, glancing into the mirror to fix his face into a more relaxed expression before looking back towards Jaylan.

"Of course, you're right. This is the biggest day of my life, I should be focusing on that."

"There's my best guy," Jaylan said with an exuberant voice that could almost be comforting before spinning back across the small space and flopping down onto the small couch, reclining with one leg resting on the arm and the other still on the floor. He was most attractive like that, Dorian thought, care-free and languid like nothing else in the world could possibly be more important. It was a nice reprieve from his intensity while working. He liked it when Jaylan turned to him, grinning broadly. "You're almost there, Blue. Just another 90 minutes of performing and it'll be time. The show of a lifetime, yeah?"

"The show of a lifetime," Dorian echoed in agreement.

He turned to face himself in the mirror, one final check to make sure all was well before tucking his phone into the pocket of his jacket and getting up. He was always so full of nervous energy before going on stage, he couldn't help shaking his hands out and bouncing on the balls of his feet for a brief moment before leaning down to kiss Jaylan properly, neither one touching his hair for fear of ruining it.

And then Dorian was out the door with a wink, bounding past Dariax, his bodyguard and friend, to the backstage area as the lights began to go down.

"Thank you, Ank'Harel!" Dorian shouted towards the end of the show. He'd done it, it was time to go get changed, and the next time he'd be out on this stage would be the wedding and then a new song he'd done for Jaylan and then it would be done. "Make sure you stay in your seats for the next number, I have a very special surprise!"

So far it had been going well. He'd done mostly his newer, more upbeat songs, but he always liked to sprinkle in a few of the slower, folkier songs he'd written when he first started singing. They were still favorites of his and he liked to reward his early fans with those little moments throughout the night, especially here where so many of them had been written.

Dorian jogged off the stage to the roaring applause, grabbing his phone out of his coat and tucking it under his chin as he scrambled through the costume change. His wedding outfit would be mostly the same as his show outfit, but with the addition of a long white robe with an asymmetric hem that fluttered to the floor in the back. The color was beautiful on his skin, and the high collar with a lace ruff had been his favorite part. The long bell sleeves were cut off the shoulder and covered his hands when he held his arms to his side but fell away when he had his hands up with a microphone. There wasn't a lot of jewelry like Jaylan had, instead it let the fabric and his skin do all the work. He looked stunning and he knew it.

"Gorgeous," the wardrobe assistant said as soon as the last buttons were done up. "He's so lucky to have you."

"We're both lucky," he demurred, but silently hoped for the best. He looked the furthest thing he ever had from the person he'd been before, from Brontë. This, the man in the looking glass in front of him, was the person he'd always dreamed of being. His whole future was ahead of him.

Looking around, Dorian didn't see Jaylan. He pulled his phone out and unlocked it, intending to text his fiance, but instead a text from his social media manager caught his attention.

Opal 💎: call me as soon as you see this!!!!!!!

The urgency gave him pause, as did the request to call her. Opal could be a little (a lot) extra, but she didn't usually send that many exclamation marks or request an urgent call. Without thinking, he opened her contact and hit the call button, wandering farther backstage looking for privacy and his fiance and not necessarily in that order.

"Have you checked the EXU blog?" Her voice was nervous and upset as soon as she answered, and that just made him more anxious.

"What? No, I've been on stage. Opal, what's going on?"

"Are you with Jaylan?"

"Not - not right now, no. Can you speed this up? I'm about to go back on stage as soon as I find him."

Dorian smiled apologetically to Dariax as he approached his dressing room, mouthing the word Opal to the dwarf in the hopes he wouldn't be too upset at being ignored. Dariax had a blank expression on his face and wouldn't meet Dorian's eye. He would have to make it up to his friend later once he dealt with everything else.

"There was a special report on their blog." Opal sounded nearly frantic now as Dorian swung the door open, revealing Jaylan still on the couch with another person on top of him. Dorian froze as Opal's voice continued. "He was seen out on the town last night getting cozy with some rando at a restaurant in Ank'Harel. They have pictures. I know it doesn't necessarily mean anything but-"

"Opal." Dorian's voice sounded distant even to his own ears, as though it was coming from somewhere outside his body - or, more likely, he's completely left his body and was now experiencing the whole scene from somewhere above and behind himself. "I'm going to have to call you back."

He ended the call without waiting for a response or even looking away from the scene in front of him. The Yuan-Ti who had been grinding in Jaylan's lap pulled back like they'd been shocked, covering their chest (oh they were also half naked, fantastic) and fishing around on the floor for a shirt.

"Oh, there you are!" Jaylan said cheerfully as though Dorian hadn't just walked in on what he'd walked in on. "This is -" he gestured to the stranger, but Dorian wasn't about to stand here and be introduced to this person who he'd just walked in on with his fiance.

"Don't!" Dorian snapped. "I don't even want to hear anything you could have to say, either of you."

"Oh come on, Blue," Jaylan said calmly, using his pet name for Dorian as though he had the right, as though none of this changed anything. "Don't overreact."

"Don't overreact? I'm sorry, how am I supposed to react to this? We are literally seconds away from getting married. Was I supposed to ask to join?"

Jaylan grimaced, looking a little bit abashed for the first time today. "This isn't how I meant for you to find out. Where's that dwarf? He was supposed to knock when you got off stage."

"So it's Dariax's fault I walked in on this." Dorian couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You are incredible. Absolutely incredible. You know what? No, I'm not going to deal with this right now. I have a show to finish. Without you."

Jaylan jumped to his feet as Dorian stormed out, following closely.

"Come on, this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you about this. I knew you'd react this way. Come on, Blue. You know how this works."

"How this- how what works, Jaylan? Affairs? Weddings? What am I missing?"

"You can't be that old fashioned. This is the life you wanted, travel and celebrity - and groupies."

"First of all, you can't pretend like it's an open relationship if you're the only one who knew about it. Second, what part of this situation makes me old fashioned? Actually, no. I don't want an answer. I want you gone. I have to get through the rest of this show."

"Think about this, Dorian." Jaylan's voice was serious, now. Not threatening exactly, but there was a definite warning being given as the half-elf grabbed Dorian's upper arm. "Really think about it. Do you really want to go out there by yourself? Everyone knows what's supposed to be going on, your last album cover had you in a wedding dress, for gods' sake. The secret song you're supposed to debut is about a wedding. Right now, this is all rumor and innuendo. The second you go out there alone, it's all confirmed. And then where will you be? We both know the only reason anyone cares about you is because of me. Don't do anything stupid."

Dorian felt the blood rush to his face with anger and he was sure he was flushed a brilliant purple, but it was all he could do not to haul off and punch this man he had thought loved him as he said these terrible things as though they justified the betrayal.

"Look out there, Jaylan," he finally said with a calmness he didn't know he possessed, gesturing to the sliver of crowd just barely visible around the curtains. "See all those people? They're cheering for me. That's my name on all the signs. You may have helped boost my profile, but I made Dorian Storm and that's who they're here to see. I don't need you." Dorian jerked his arm free. "You better not be here anymore when I get off that stage."

And with that, he marched out on stage with as much determination as he could muster, closing his eyes and just basking in the love and validation as the roar of the crowd enveloped him in the fact that these people loved him, these people wanted him. He'd be alright. He had no idea what to do or say, but he would be okay as long as he had that.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, still trying to formulate a solution to this problem, but none was forthcoming. And so he did the one thing he knew he could do - he sang. He did a brief medley of a few different songs that he sometimes did at dinner parties if he wanted to show off, and they cheered. He felt himself reaching that space he loved so much where nothing else mattered except the love of the crowd. Nothing from his real life mattered, not Cyrus or his parents or stupid fucking Jaylan - or even Brontë, the life he'd given up so that he could become Dorian. There was a shrill feeling to his elation now, a desperate, self-destructive edge he'd never felt before. Of course, nothing else mattered. He had his fans. His fans loved him. This was the love that mattered, wasn't it?

"I heard you were here for a wedding," he said at last, just barely keeping the hysterical edge out of his voice through sheer will alone. The crowd roared. "Well, who am I to disappoint all of you…you wonderful, beautiful people?"

They cheered harder.

"Unfortunately, Jaylan won't be joining us this evening," that earned a disappointed sound he was quick to quell. "I know, I know. Unfortunately, we've gone our separate ways. I'm sure the tabloids will keep you all informed of any upcoming developments. But, you good people came for a wedding, didn't you?"

"You." The voice from the stage snapped Orym out of his distraction. He'd been watching Imogen's phone as she texted a live play-by-play of the scene unfolding before them to Laudna. When his focus returned to the stage, he saw none other than Dorian Storm himself holding a hand towards the crowd, and it took him an embarrassing amount of time to realize the singer was speaking directly to him.

They erupted in applause again, and he glanced around the front of the crowd desperately. Looking for someone - anyone - any familiar face in this sea of strangers who adored him more than his own family did. But no luck, nobody was there to save him and so he would save himself.

"What's your name?" the genasi continued, smiling when Orym looked around again, still completely convinced that there was somebody else he must have meant. "Yes, you. The handsome halfling with the sign. What's your name?"

"Orym!" Imogen and Fearne shouted in unison when he found himself unable to answer.

His eyes fluttered across the crowd, panic and bile and the knowledge that he would regret this while being completely unable to stop it rising up on him. Finally, his eyes lit upon a sign in the crowd - MARRY ME INSTEAD in big colorful letters, held by a halfling man. Dorian didn't let himself think twice as he stepped across the stage and reached out a hand.

"Orym?" Dorian repeated the name, and Orym couldn't help but like the way it sounded in his melodious voice. No matter what Orym may think of the man’s music, there was no denying the genasi had an absolutely beautiful voice. “That’s a great sign you have there, Orym.”

Dorian’s voice was low and sexy now, and so clearly meant to be seductive that it took Orym more than a few seconds to realize - the sign! Fearne’s stupid, ridiculous sign that she’d asked him to hold while she got a snack and hadn’t taken back after Dorian had started again. The sign offering to marry Dorian that he was still holding. Orym felt his mouth moving up and down as he tried to think of a response without actually being able to form words - some way to tell this strange man, oh no, I’m not the one who wants to marry you, it’s my large friend here, but Orym was only able to nod mutely.

“Why don’t you come up here?” Dorian asked, and, again, words failed Orym as his friends shoved him forward and the crowd parted - dozens of strange hands pushing him up and onto the stage as Dorian held a hand out to help him up. “Well, Orym,” Dorian continued. “I saw your sign and I thought I’d make your wish come true, how’s that sound?”

The crowd roared again, and Orym knew he had to say something to make this stop.

“Uh,” he forced out as eloquently as he could manage.

“Don’t be shy,” Dorian replied, taking Orym’s hand and guiding him towards the back of the stage where a curtain was lifting to reveal an arch and an officiant. “There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

Orym was completely stunned, helpless to do anything but follow.

Everything was moving in slow motion around him, but it still somehow felt too fast for Orym to keep up with. The officiant was saying words to his right, but his eyes were locked on the man in front of him. Dorian was beautiful, there was no getting around it; with his pale blue skin and black-blue hair fading to white at the ends, everything about him was stunning with not a hair out of place. But Orym had known that from the posters outside the building on their way in, what Orym actually found himself lost in was Dorian's eyes - his crystal blue eyes brimming with hurt and hope and some other emotions that Orym couldn't place roiling beneath that carefully crafted exterior.

He should say no. He should say no! This was insane, he'd let this go on too far already and he'd only known Dorian Storm for the last few minutes. There was no way this was even a legal marriage, there was no reason to repeat after the cleric as he was led through the wedding vows (the same ones you said to Will, a very unhelpful little voice in his head provided). All Orym had to do was let go of Dorian's hand and walk off this stage and it would be over. He wouldn't have to have anything further to do with Dorian Storm or whatever celebrity tabloid drama was going on. And yet…Dorian was still looking at him with those sea-colored eyes and for a split second the mask slipped and he looked like nothing so much as a fairy tale prince hoping Orym was the knight come to save him from the dragon.

And damn it all, but Orym had always had a weakness for pretty men and had never known how to say no to someone who needed help.

"I...I do."

#dorym #dorym fic #critical role campaign 3 #bell's hells #cr fanfic #mantis writes #what the hell am i doing this thing is ridiculous and i kind of love that it exists

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