CR Campaign Two: Mighty Nein era (characters)

[criticalkink]

The rules are under the cut for you to read if you haven't already checked out the profile!



Welcome to the kink meme for Critical Role!

This community is open to all fans of Critical Role no matter what your preference for pairing may be. You do not have to join the community: you can either watch it or just track the post. Anon commenting will always be on, and IP tracking will be off. So feel free to stay anon if it makes you more comfortable.

What is a Kink Meme?
It's pretty simple. You post a prompt and your fellow fans get inspired and write fic based on that prompt. As it is a "kink" meme, a great deal of fic will be of the smutty variety, so if you aren't into that or not of a porn-reading age, this place won't be for you. Not all fic has to be smutty, but it does have to be kinky.

Clarification: This is a kink meme, therefore prompts must be kink-based. It is not a general prompting/headcanons meme. There have been a couple of people confused by that, so we're just making it extra clear.

Please only post one prompt per comment so to avoid any confusion.

How do I prompt?
Post each prompt as a new comment to the main post. Include pairing (or threesome or more if that's your thing) and anything else you want to add. You should put, at the very least, the pairing in the subject line along with a specific kink if it applies. You can put the whole prompt in the subject if it will fit, but if it doesn't, use the comments. For example:

Subject line: Beauregard/Jester, friends to lovers

Body of comment: Jester's been letting Beau use her for sparring practice. That kind of proximity does things to a tiefling.

I see a prompt I want to write! What now?
Go for it! You don't have to claim it, and fills can be written by more than one person. Once you've finished you must post it as a response to the original comment. Responses should use a subject line that includes the pairing, rating & any necessary warnings (i.e. incest, non-con, etc.). If you have titled your fic you can also include that. Also, as LJ limits the size of comments, if your fic goes into multiple comments, please note that your comment is part 1/5, part 2/5 and so on. Using the prompt above, the subject line could read:

"Punches and Pastries, Jester/Beauregard, M, 1/3"

And now some rules...

• Since we're all supposed to be adults here, let's act like it. Be respectful to your fellow posters.
  
• Your kink is not someone else's and their kink may not be yours. If you don't like it, don't read it. It's really that simple.
  
• Please no bashing of other pairings. Just like with kinks, everyone has their own flavors, and this is neither the time nor place for ship wars. This meme is meant to include the entire fandom.
  
• Crossover prompts are allowed, but they must include a Critical Role character as a main part of the prompt.
  
• RPF is also allowed, but please prompt it over here!
  
• Het, slash, femmeslash? You're all welcome here. The more the merrier!
  
• It's not a requirement by any means, but writers love feedback, so if you read something you enjoy, take a second to tell the writer. Whether it's a one word response or something longer, it's always appreciated.
  
• Please follow basic kink meme etiquette by not linking the cast or crew to this meme.

While we want this to be a relaxed and cool place, we also don't want people to feel uncomfortable being here. If you have suggestions or comments on how this community can improve please address to them to criticalkink in a PM or drop a comment on this post.

The most important rule of all? HAVE FUN.


Now go forth and prompt!

Comments

Re: Fill 6/?

[(Anonymous)]

At some point the lounge became his lounge.
It takes on the colors he tends to favor in his dress, becomes plusher, with pillows more suited to keeping him comfortable while reading and trancing. Gains a companion in the form of a low table. Books he’s shown interest in manifest on the table, along with similar tomes, rather than him having to ask for them each time. The far end grows slightly farther away, to accommodate Jester’s frequent company without leaving him cramped.
All this consideration, and Essek only ever sees Caleb for the handful of minutes it takes him to exit his tower, recast it, and enter it again.
Essek doesn’t know if that is a kindness or not.
Because his pulse still quickens, and his stomach still knots with fear, but his heart aches for that quiet, brilliant company.
--
The little orange cat visits more nights than not, patient but insistent on his attention.
“Does the master of the house send you, I wonder?” Essek murmurs. The cat is curled at his hip, purring loudly. Essek strokes it behind the ears. “He sends the others to wait on me, but you don’t seem like the usual staff. And I know you aren’t Frumpkin.”
No, he’d spotted Frumpkin, in his usual livery, and Essek is certain Caleb would not expend the resources necessary to change his coat with such frequency. So this is someone else.
“Well, even if you are here under orders, I appreciate your company.”
The cat lifts its head to stare up at him with its vibrant blue eyes. If Essek didn’t know better, he’d think there was something sad in that gaze. He wonders if he’d said something wrong, before realizing that he could hardly offend a cat, arcane manifestation or no. Still, he scratches it under the chin in what he hopes it a suitable attempt at mollification.
The cat leans into his fingers for a moment, then climbs onto his chest and curls up again, purring more loudly than before.
--
He might spend most of his time in the salon, on his lounge, but Caduceus has encouraged him to walk around. Exercise, to regain his strength. If that first circuit around the salon, holding Yasha’s elbow, hadn’t exhausted him, he’d have brushed the idea off as well-meaning but ludicrous. Surely walking couldn’t elude him.
But Caduceus is an expert in his own field, and Essek should have known better than to disregard his advice.
He can’t very well walk around outside (which is Uthodurn, apparently. They deemed it sufficiently remote and neutral for the purposes of hiding him.) so he makes due with wandering the tower. He no longer needs an escort, at least, and he takes it as an opportunity to study Caleb’s handiwork.
It’s the detail that consistently impresses Essek. This is masterwork, and it never grows less careful, no matter how many times he recasts it. No matter how many times he changes it. Essek has so many questions but—
A turbulent mix of emotions rears up—fear, anger, longing, sadness, worry. His grits his teeth, breathes the way Caduceus taught him. Eventually, the chaos will to turn to exhaustion and numbness.
What was the other advice? Focus on his senses. Hearing for example. What can he hear, besides the pounding of his pulse?
Voices. Whose voices? Beauregard’s and—
And Caleb’s.
Essek is on the sixth floor, the furthest he usually ventures upward. Below Veth and Caleb’s rooms. The iris is open—not unusual—but Essek doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything from that floor.
Eavesdropping is rude, but it is also second nature to him. A return to one of his worse habits can probably be forgiven, under the circumstances. And Essek misses the sound of Caleb’s voice very badly.
“—Fuckin’, seriously? There’s self-flagellation and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re doing.”
“Beauregard.”
“Don’t ‘Beauregard’ me, I’m right.”
A beat of tense silence, then—
“No, you think you’re right. But I’m not going to subject him to more pain because of what you think.”
“The fuck? You’re acting like this is your fault or some shit.”
“It’s not about fault. It’s about—” Caleb’s voice dies. Essek can picture the tense, grim expression that must come with a silence like that. “I know how he prefers to break people down. Not just pain, but lies, and—and—” There’s a soft choking sound, very like the prelude to a sob. “Essek is afraid of me. I don’t care if it looks like self-flagellation to you, if I were him I’d never want to see my face again.”
“He’s not you, though. And we both know it’s not you wigging him out.”
“And it doesn’t seem to make a practical difference.”
“You wanna live like this forever? Never talking to him again?”
“It doesn’t matter what I want, so—”
Essek doesn’t hear the rest, he is already fleeing. He doesn’t know why, just that he doesn’t want to hear more of that conversation. He fairly flings the door to his own chambers open, only barely keeps himself from slamming the door behind him.
Essek sinks to the floor almost immediately, resting against the door. Curls into himself, head resting on his knees. Tries not to shake.
He cannot name this feeling, this yawning ache. The know that Caleb knows, to know that Caleb is trying to spare him in the ways he can, to miss Caleb bitterly, to hate that he cannot stomach what he desperate to have.
To know that Caleb, too, is hurting for his hurt.
It occurs to him that the last words they exchanged, if they could be called that, were Essek’s bitter attempt to fling vitriol at someone else entirely.
Will that be it, then? Will that be forever how things stood between them?
Essek finds he hates that thought more than almost anything else.