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inkribbon796 · 3 years

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Lost in a Lightning Storm Ch. 2: Far from Home

Summary: You shouldn’t talk about people, and not expect them to find out.

Chapters: 1, 2

While Henrik and Anti were talking to Tubbo and Logan, and then subsequently went off to Nate’s house to do some research, Mare went to go find Anti.

Anti was cackling with the Duke on some rooftop, who had escaped arrest after the chaos he had created. The two chaos-loving criminals were laughing and joking.

“Anti! Your boyfriend is getting too brave, you gotta[1] do something!” Mare said as he leaned over a massive air conditioning unit to get into the glitch’s face. Anti was lying on his back on the rooftop.

“Ooooooohhh~ You have a boyfriend?” Remus gave a huge smile, turning on his stomach and kicking his feet up like they were a bunch of pre-teens at a slumber party. “And you didn’t tell your best friend? For shame.”

“Shut up,” Anti kicked him in the face. Then he turned back to Mare. “I don’t got[2] a boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, then what the hell is he?” Mare bit back.

“None ‘a yer fookin’ business,”[3] Anti spat back.

“M’kay,[4] whatever,” Mare rolled his eyes. “Point is, he’s trying to find you.”

“I’m right here, let ‘im[5],” Anti scoffed, still lying on the ground.

“No, the old you, the human one,” Mare warned.

“Why?” Anti spat.

“I don’t know, humans are dumb,” Mare spat. “He’s your problem, you deal with him.”

“Fook[6] you!” Anti spat and stormed off.

Directly after he stormed off, he realized that he hadn’t asked Mare where Henrik was. But it was too late to storm off. Mostly because he overheard Remus trying to weedle information out of Mare. Anti was too in his own head to admit to even himself that he was embarrassed.

So he went out to find Henrik. Except he wasn’t at the hospital . . . and Logan didn’t seem to know where he was. He wasn’t at the hospital either so Anti ran around for a little bit and found them in Nate’s house.

For a couple moments, Anti debated on how upset Mare would be if he barged into his territory. Then he figured that if Mare didn’t want him to trespass, he shouldn’t have told him to take care of Henrik . . . and Anti had been in Nate’s house before on multiple occasions.

So Anti tripped about three alarms to get into the house and Nate and Henrik watched him stroll right into the living room where they were.

“Don’t yeh[7] two know not ta[8] talk about someone behind their back?” Anti layered on the glitching and blood as much as he could.

“You are certainly getting better at zat[9] effect,” Henrik complimented.

“You bleed on my carpet and I will stab you with a soul splitter,” Nate threatened.

Anti pulled out his knife, completely offended that they weren’t screaming in terror.

Nate helped up a stake, the wood was etched with runes and spell writing. “Anti, I don’t want to explain to the rest of your friends why you’re in pieces.”

“Why the fook are yeh diggin’ inta my personal shite?”[10] Anti demanded.

“Because zer is much I do not know about you, und I vish to correct zat,”[11] Henrik told him, Nate was on his computer, still looking through old census records and newspaper reports.

“I’m right the fook[6] here,” Anti spat.

“I cannot recall a time ven ve have ever talked about any’zing,”[12] Henrik told Anti pointedly.

Anti glared at him, his nose scrunched up like the demon was about to pull his lips back in a snarl. “Why, though? No point in lookin’[13] fer[14] a dead man.”

Henrik stood up, really studying Anti’s expression, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop.”

Anti sputtered for a moment, “I don’t care.”

“I am serious Anti, if all zis[15] investigation makes you uncomfortable or vas[16] a traumatic experience, I vill[17] stop.”

A myriad of uncomfortable feelings, that Anti refused to unpack or acknowledge, prickled under his skin and boiled his blood. He absolutely refused to be afraid of some past specter he could barely remember. Anti was better than some human who’s only contribution to the world had been dying so that Anti could be brought into the world.

So instead Anti just scoffed, some derisive, forced laugh, “Whate’er yeh two arses wanna dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor ‘a dyin’, go ahead. Here, I’ll e’en help.”[18]

Henrik watched for any sign that Anti was joking or would destroy Nate’s computer. “If you are certain.”

“Oh yeah,” Anti dismissed. “What did yeh shitebags find?”[19]

“Well,” Nate stalled as he watched Anti walk over, he stayed braced with his stake. “Don’t break my stuff.”

“I won’t,” Anti smiled. “Come on, we got some loser ta[8] find.”

“That “loser” is also a past version of you,” Nate pointedly reminded.

“Watch it, meatbag,” Anti warned. “If he wanted ta[8] stay alive, he shouldn’ta[20] died.”

“Eloquent,” Henrik commented.

“Shut,” Anti hissed back.

“Do you remember your country of origin?” Nate asked. “I’ve got several different deaths from lightning storms and factory accidents from the past 150—”

“I ne’er[21] worked in a factory,” Anti huffed, before mentally stalling because he couldn’t remember how he knew that, just that he did.

“Really?” Nate commented without even blinking. “That helps narrow it down. Means you only could have died from lightning if you’re as old as Mare says you are.”

“Mare needs ta[8] learn ta[8] keep his trap shut,” Anti scoffed.

“You were right there when he told me that, and you didn’t say anything,” Nate reminded.

Anti looked away from him, “I don’t remember this, it didn’t happen.”

“Anyways, do you remember where you came from?” Nate turned back to his computer. “I know the Septics first met you in Ireland, but are you from there too?”

“Been ta a lot ‘a places,”[22] Anti shrugged. “How am I supposed ta[8] know?”

“Well it vould[23] make it easier,” Henrik reminded.

Anti rolled his eyes, “I woke up in Australia. I hitched a ride on several hosts until I got ta[8] Ireland. I don’t know if I died there, my first ten years were a blur.”

“You are Australian?” Henrik was staring at Anti.

“No.” Hunching his shoulders up defensively, Anti glared at the doctor, “Maybe? I can’t remember. What’s it ta[8] yah[7]?”

“No, it’s not a bad thing,” Henrik rushed to say. “I just . . . it is a good thing.”

Nate and Anti just stared at him, neither of them sure which direction to take that comment, but Henrik wasn’t looking Anti in the eyes anymore. He was glancing at Anti though, a lot.

But with a country narrowed down, Nate was able to eliminate several different possible candidates. Until there were five people left, four men and one woman. Mostly because it wasn’t unheard of for gender changes to occur when a human became a demon.

“Okay,” Nate said. “We have: Caleb Carson, Hannah Laverty, Brendan O’Heyne, Angus Collins, and Joe Morrin. Does anyone sound familiar, I don’t see any pictures so . . .”

Anti’s brain felt clouded, like there was something wrong but he couldn’t place it. He felt the urge to stab something and run. Like he was in danger.

“Anti? Are you alright?” Henrik asked, there was a look on Anti’s face that the German doctor hadn’t seen on him before.

Anti’s attention drifted towards one of the names in particular. He had no memories left of that person.

Much of that person was gone now, eroded away by time, but snippets remained. Being arrested for something . . . feeling disgusting inside afterwards . . .

. . . Feeling sick as the boat wouldn’t stop shaking the world around him . . .

. . . The heat of the sun burning his skin, almost hot as the anger that burned inside of him . . .

. . . And then a deafening CRACK as he felt like his body was exploding with pain. And how they’d just . . .

“They left me there,” Anti remembered, his form glitching erratically. “They left my fookin’[24] corpse ta[8] rot!”

“Anti‽” Henrik called out but the two humans watched Anti violently shatter apart in a discorporation.

Nate surged up immediately and took out an amulet necklace. One he had once’s a while ago to safely carry Mare around. But he used his magic to scoop up as much of Anti’s aura as possible to keep him from fracturing.

“Vat[25] happened?” Henrik demanded.

“He must have remembered something,” Nate tried to calm Henrik down as he was casting spells to see how violent the discorporation was, “I don’t think it was a good thing.”

Henrik snatched the necklace away, looking at it. “Vill[17] he be alright?”

“He still seems to be in one piece, but it might take a while for him to reform,” Nate warned.

“I zink ve should stop,”[26] Henrik looked over at Nate’s laptop. “If I had known his reaction vould have been zis violent I vould have stopped ven he confronted us.”[27]

“Yeah,” Nate agreed and watched Henrik put the necklace on. “Be careful with him, an injured demon’s a more dangerous one.”

“I vill[17],” Henrik promised, and gathered up his stuff with a stiff thank you for Nate’s help and the doctor went over to his apartment with the necklace. Anti took a couple of days to reform, but he didn’t talk to Henrik. The demon would escape the necklace and then slip back in whenever Henrik was distracted or busy.

After almost a week since the incident at Nate’s house, Henrik decided that, if Anti wasn’t going to talk to him, Henrik would talk to Anti. He started out small, complaining about the coffee machine at the hospital, about how muggy the weather was.

Then, one night, while Henrik was sitting on his couch, watching some TV show, or at least had it on in the background while he was staring down at the necklace in his hands, the doctor decided to be a bit more blunt. He watched the gem, saw almost like glitchy lightning crackling underneath the surface. “I must admit, part of ze[28] reason I went digging vas[16] to get a reaction out of you.”

There was a pause to the energy in the necklace. But after a bit the glitched lightning continued as if nothing had happened.

“If you do not vant to talk about zis matter, I vill not force you,”[29] Henrik told him. “But I had hoped to get a violent reaction out of you, not to actually harm you. For zat[9] I am sorry.”

Anti’s aura shot out of the necklace was just staring at Henrik. “Why was that what yeh were goin’ fer?”[30]

“You have tried to kill me und[31] my friends many times, und[31] I vanted[32] to get you to attack me,” Henrik admitted.

“Why?” Anti scoffed, plopping down on Henrik’s couch. “If I wanted yeh[7] dead, I would’a[33] done it already.”

He took glared at him. “Zat[9] is exactly the problem, you have zis[15] odd stalking infatuation but you have tried to kill me in the past. Not to mention you utterly ruined Average’s marriage und[31] his ability to visit his children.”

“The fooker was gettin’ cucked an’ e’eryone knew it,”[34] Anti dismissed.

“She vas doin’ no’zing of ze sort,”[35] Henrik defended heatedly.

Anti looked away angrily.

The two sat in angry silence for a little while, before Henrik sighed, taking off his glasses to massage the bridge of his nose before carefully putting them back on. “Anti, vat do you vant out of zese interactions ve have?”[36]

The glitch demon decided he would rather talk about literally anything else, but his only other option was talking about his former human life and he wasn’t sure which made him look worse. “I like it when yeh[7] get angry at me.”

“Is it simply ze[28] anger or ze[28] attention?” Henrik asked, genuinely trying to understand.

Anti still wasn’t looking at him, deciding that he’d rather take the human talk. “My name used ta[8] be somethin’[37] else.”

“Vich[38] do you prefer?” Henrik asked.

“Anti,” Anti told him hesitantly.

“Zen[39] you are Anti,” Henrik agreed. “As you said, zat[9] man is dead, und[31] you are here.”

Something in Anti’s chest tightened, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like even the reminder that he was human. But he started leaning over towards Henrik. It was just a little bit of a lean, not enough to even get near Henrik. So the doctor closed the distance for him, lightly resting his shoulder against Anti’s.

“I zink zat you like the attention, vich I am more zen happy to give to you,”[40] Henrik smiled at him as Anti still refused to hold eye contact with him. “Und ven you know vat you vant, you can tell me in your own time.”[41]

For the rest of the night the two of them sat in almost near silence. Anti wasn’t ready to admit anything, but still tantalizingly close all the same. Anti getting closer and close to Henrik until the doctor was pressed up against the side of the couch and Anti was leaning against him. Anti sat next to Henrik as the doctor just ran his fingers through his hair. Anymore and Anti would have started hissing and pulling away. But as he leaned into the touch the glitch decided that he liked this attention.

Henrik occasionally looked over at Anti, smiling at him.

And if, as he scratched his fingers across his scalp, heard him give out very quiet purring sounds, the doctor decided not to tease the glitch demon about them . . . at least not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Post A/N: Anti in his AU used to be a man by the name of Angus (Jack’s “survivalist” character he made super early in his channel and in this AU Angus was arrested and sent to Australia where he subsequently died from a freak lightning storm, and then cue villain arc.

Side note: Henrik likes Anti’s Australian accent, he likes it a lot! No I will not back down from this extremely unpopular headcanon.

Accessibility Translations:

1. have to

2. have

3. None of your fucking business

4. Okay

5. him

6. Fuck

7. you

8. to

9. that

10. Why the fuck are you digging into my personal shit?

11. Because there is much I don’t know about you, and I wish to correct that

12. I can’t recall a time when we have ever talked about anything

13. looking

14. for

15. this

16. was

17. will

18. Whatever you two assholes want to dig up some dead bitch that did me the favor of dying, go ahead. Here, I’ll even help.

19. What did you shitbags find?

20. shouldn’t have

21. never

22. I’ve been to a lot of places

23. would

24. fucking

25. What

26. I think we should stop

27. If I had known his reaction would have been this violent I would have stopped when he confronted us.

28. the

29. If you do not want to talk about this matter, I will not force you

30. Why was that what you were going for?

31. and

32. wanted

33. would have

34. The fucker was getting cucked and everyone knew it

35. She was doing nothing of the sort

36. Anti, what do you want out of these interactions we have?

37: something

38. which

39. then

40. I think that you like the attention, which I am more then happy to give to you

41. And when you know what you want, you can tell me in your own time.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #birthday post #footnotes #henrik von schneeplestein #antisepticeye #Nathan Sharp #Antistein #Doctor Glitch #Anti trying desperately to run away from his emotions #finally some relationship progress #Anti's just a scraggly alley cat that doesn't know how to get a home #Anti has feels #angst and feels

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soemthingsparkly · 3 years

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I woke up and the first thing I did was check your dash for Conrad updates and now I headcanon that Caleb is Conrad's a*usive birth father and Ryan knows him from the music business so whenever Ryan sees Caleb surrounded by music execs or important people he's extremely po-ed b/c conrad showed up at their house last night with a bruised face and so Ryan straight up decks Caleb right then and there shouting something like "Conrad is OUR son now you bastard!"

^ the face i made while walking home and reading this.

Ewwww, can you imagine the TRAUMA of having Caleb for a father?

Also if Conrad showed up with a bruised face you know he'd be completely stoic about it.

Rock up to the D-E household and be like "Sup, can I crash here?"

and they'd be absolutely horrified because Conrad your face is literally bleeding.

And his response?

Oh shit, sorry. I'll be careful with the carpets.

Conrad spends enough of his time fighting, it really doesn't phase him.

Except, it does, he's just deeply emotionally repressed.

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #caleb covington #jaz answers #jaz answers pineapple #jaz answers jatp

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unicyclehippo · 4 years

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First impressions after the live show? Beaujester impressions or otherwise

‘Ah. Would you mind looking after Luc for a little while?’ Yeza asks with a somewhat nervous - but excited - smile.

Beau salutes him from the bathroom. ‘No worries, dude. Go get her.’

Yeza laughs, fumbles to return the gesture. ‘Thank you. Thank you, everyone. Ah - if you’ll just...excuse me,’ he says and in amongst the Nein’s gentle teasing, the halfling bobs an awkward bow and leaves, hurries back to his wife.

As Jester disappears into Marion’s chambers, her quiet apology for the bathtub reaching the bathroom, Beau does her best to sweep up the clay and the soot left by the burned incense, the pieces of the bathtub. These she separates, drops into a box Beau suspects once held a gift of some kind or is, like, some unnecessarily fancy bin. The largest of the pieces she just sets beside it. Maybe... if she figured out where all the pieces were supposed to go, Jester could mend it? Beau grimaces down at the hundreds of ceramic shards. Maybe not.

‘Beau?’

‘Huh? Oh, hey! I was just -’ She waves a hand toward the mess. Her other hand is cupped, middling sized shards held in it that she’d found under the shelves. ‘D’you reckon you could mend this thing? Or...?’

Jester grimaces too, looking at the extent of the problem before her. She steps into the bathroom beside Beau, shoulders jumping in surprise as something crunches underfoot. She smiles guiltily.

‘It would take a really long time.’

‘Right, right, right,’

‘But I promised my mama I would buy her a new one. Or find someone for her who will buy her a new one.’

‘Maybe you could ask the Gentleman.’

‘Beau.’

‘What? Is that - that’s stupid, got it,’

‘No!’ Jester grabs her arm, shakes it, not caring a bit that the shards Beau collected drop to the ground and break even more. ‘Beau!’ she squeals. ‘That’s a great idea!’

‘Oh no.’

‘Yeah!’

‘No, no, see I was just kidding - ‘

Jester squeals louder. ‘Oh my gosh it will be so romantic, I can send him a message and he can pick out the most beautiful bathtub and I can write -’ She goes a little breathless for a second, tail flicking right at the tip with excitement, eyes darting over Beau’s face. It’s clear that Jester isn’t looking at her, but rather past her to all the many plans she can concoct. ‘I can write a letter,’ she says quietly. ‘I have his handwriting now, I can say, Oh Marion, in your time of greatest need I am - um - fulfilling that need,’

‘We can workshop it. Or not. Because that’s - it’s an idea,’ she says, dropping the adjective she would ordinarily tack onto that. ‘But it’s maybe, you know, a tiny bit, uh,’

‘Too soon?’

‘I was gonna say hurtful,’ Beau tells her bluntly.

Jester’s face falls. ‘What do you mean? You mean - getting them together?’

‘N-no, not exactly. But, y’know, if the guy you liked walked out on you and then you had a kid and you raised her alone for years and he never came back and eventually you figured, y’know, he was either a piece of shit or something bad happened to him or maybe both or maybe he didn’t care or maybe he did and maybe he wasn’t ever in love with you or maybe he was and you flat out don’t know, and then you find out that he’s this crime lord up in Zadash and your bathtub breaks and that is what he writes to you about?’

Jester blinks, her surprise bleeding into faintly troubled, and thoughtful, and a soft distant kind of expression Beau doesn’t fully recognise. ‘Probably not the best.’

‘Prob’ly not.’

‘Hmm. I’ll think on it.’

‘Sure, yeah, you do that. I’ll - edit your letter, if you want. Help you workshop it.’

‘Even though you think it’s a terrible idea?’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Beau is quick to point out, mind racing backwards in their conversation to make sure that yeah, she definitely hadn’t said it. She had thought it, but that’s not the same thing. Jester is smiling at her when she comes back to the here and now, the mischievous smile that tucks into her cheeks, makes her dimples pop and her eyes glint. Beau rolls her eyes, shakes her head. Grumbles, without any real annoyance to the word, ‘Tricky.’

‘Well, I am a trickery gods protégé.’

Beau cleans for a little longer, waves Jester away to help Caleb with getting the magic he wants and starting on their clothes. With Caleb and Fjord gone to Yussa’s tower, and Caduceus following closely after when he sees Fjord step out, and with Yasha looking for a dog for their dinner (a joke? Uncertain), Beau realises that she is the only one left, and that they had all completely glossed over one very important fact.

‘Shit! Luc!’

She sprints down the steps from the third floor and when she hears the familiar sound of a shriek of dismay, follows it to Carlos and Luc and a smashed bottle on the floor.

‘Luc!’

‘That,’ the boy says, backing up, brown eyes wide, ‘was an accident.’

‘You need to be more careful, lad!’ Carlos cries, and scrubs his hands over his head, disturbing the slicked combover. ‘Enough with the sword! And the crossbow! Please!’

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Luc insists, and Beau closes the distance quickly. Luc is in zero danger from Carlos, who seems more interested in making sure that the wine doesn’t soak into the nearby carpet - and that Luc doesn’t step onto any glass - but seeing the tall man towering over the young boy, and the raised voices, has her moving faster and her heart pounding in her chest.

‘Everything alright here?’ she demands, staring at Carlos. Without her meaning to, without looking, she sets a gentle hand down on the top of Luc’s curly hair, guides him backwards and behind her.

‘What? Oh - Jester’s friend. Yes, yes, it’s fine,’ Carlos sighs, and he lets out his breath in a gusting sigh. Runs his hands over the combover again. His brown eyes take in Beau before him, interposed between him and Luc, and his stance softens. ‘The lad is fine,’ he assures Beau. ‘Just rambunctious.’

‘That’s a good thing,’ Luc whispers up to Beau. He holds the back of her pants with one hand, peers out around her thigh to grin up at Carlos. ‘My dad says it means I’ve got lots of beans, but I haven’t had beans and toast since we left Felderwin.’

‘Do you like beans and toast?’ Beau asks.

Luc shrugs. ‘It’s fine? The fish here is weird but it’s fine too.’

‘Not a picky eater, huh?’

‘No, there’s heaps of stuff I won’t eat. I hate sprouts - ‘

‘Same.’

‘ - and there’s this red root that stains everything but my dad uses it for inks and dyes and stuff so we used to have it all the time,’

Beau lets him ramble on about food and shifts her attention to Carlos. The man has settled like a spooked chicken and he nods to Beau, hands lifted slightly. She relaxes a smidge. Fishes a few gold pieces from her pocket and sets them on the bar top. Then, as Luc continues to ramble, she leads the boy to the stairs.

‘ - and there’s this gross, like, pea thing and pea is already a funny word,’ he tells Beau, who snorts obligingly, nods, ‘but it tastes like sand. That’s probably my least favourite, it’s gross.’

‘Yeah, that sounds like shit.’

Luc giggles, eyes wide. ‘You said a bad word.’

‘What? Oh fu- uh - right. You’re a kid. Shi - ah crap. Balls. Oh no.’ Beau stops, rubs a hand over her face. Luc is fully laughing now, little hand clutching at the railing post he had dented earlier with his sword, and when Beau peeks through her fingers she finds that his smile is wide and honest and delighted.

‘You’re really funny. And rude.’

‘I’m - the rude part is right,’ she agrees. ‘Uh. Look, your mum and dad are gonna be - uh - talking for a bit so we told them we’d keep an eye on you. Is there anything you’re, like, wanting to do or do I...have to entertain you?’

Luc rolls his eyes. ‘I don’t need to be baby sat. I’m five.’

‘Oh, cool, basically an adult. You should probably be getting a job soon.’

‘What? No!’

‘No?’

‘No! I’m not old enough to get a job.’

‘But you’re five.’

‘That’s too young!’

‘Is it?’ Beau asks, feigning ignorance. ‘Shit, okay, what do you wanna do then?’

‘I dunno!’

‘Figure it out, or I’m gonna - uh - feed you sprouts.’

Luc gasps. ‘You wouldn’t.’

Beau grins, a little feral, mostly amused. She crouches on the landing in front of him so they’re almost of a height, her still a little taller than the young halfling. ‘Your mum hasn’t told you about me,’ she guesses. Luc shakes his head. ‘My name is Beau, and I’m a monk. I trained for years,’ she tells him, ‘to become a spy.’

‘Whoa.’

‘Yeah. Pretty cool, right?’

‘Yeah!’

‘One of my lessons was on how to torture people.’ It is only as she says it that she wonders if maybe a joke like that is a bit dark for a five year old, but Luc’s eyes only seem to widen further, sparkle a little more. It’s super weird - but weirdly nice - to be on the receiving end of what Beau can only categorise as extreme fascination. ‘I won’t stop with sprouts. I brought with me food from Xhorhas. They have vegetables,’ she tells him, voice dropping low and ominous, ‘that are soft and squelchy. Like boogers.’

‘No.’

‘Yep. Super gross. But good for you. And I’ll tell your dad that and he’ll make you eat them for every. Single. Meal.’

Luc shrieks and sprints away from her up the stairs, laughing as Beau pushes to her feet and follows. She lets him get fairly far ahead before her own competitive nature comes out and she picks up the pace, taking the stairs two at a time. It isn’t long before she catches up with him and it’s easy to hoist him off his feet and up into the air, hold him by the ankles as she marches him back down and out into the courtyard behind the Chateau. She had seen it when they arrived, the manicured yard, and the small training dummy raised there with a painted target and many, many dents from wooden crossbow bolts. Luc wriggles free when she lowers him down and races ahead, yelling back to her all the while about training, and look how high I can climb, and what is the coolest monster you’ve seen, and what’s it like being a monk?

It’s weirdly easy. Hanging out with the little dude, and answering all his questions - leaving the fallout for answering all of them honestly to Yeza and Veth to deal with in the future at some point - and catching the bolts when they whizz too close to her face, which sends him into another spiral of questions, and begging her to show off some of the cool monk shit that she can do. They’re in the middle of practicing wall-jumps - or, she is and he is jumping as high as he can in place with his stumpy little legs - when the others return and he slumps, exhaustedly, into her shoulder when she picks him up this time. Loops his arms around her neck in a loose hug.

Beau feels something twist in her chest as she hugs him back, carries him to his room, and she wonders if TJ will be anything like Luc. Outgoing, carefree, happy. Or if he’ll be more like her.

#prompt fill #cr tag #tagging my stories #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #sort of

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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“you have to stay awake. come on, give my hand a squeeze.” + Widomauk

So this one needs some explanation. In my modern AU, I’ve decided Caleb and Molly start their family with the help of magic and that has some unintended consequences.

cw: trans pregnancy, blood, body/plant based horror (?)

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

Caleb had gotten into the habit of staying awake for a few more minutes after Mollymauk had drifted to sleep. He would feel his husband’s weight become that fraction heavier as the tension dissipated, as he sank into his arms and rocked against his shoulder, sleep rising up to close over his head. Caleb would settle him against the pillow, watching carefully for the slightest hitch in his breathing, easing him down though he’d have loved to hold him close all night. But he would probably end up losing his arm to blood loss somewhere around 2am.

And then he would wait, forgetting about the book on the nightstand or Frumpkin curled up at his feet or even his own tiredness at the end of a long day. He would just pause and watch Molly, seconds slipping by unnoticed into minutes, lost in the simple delight of the steady rise and fall of his chest, the face he loved so much relaxed and perfectly at peace, the one hand lying slack on his slightly rounded stomach.

Caleb would watch and think how much he adored him, how he couldn’t remember ever being so simply and uncomplicatedly happy.

So he would always turn off the light and settle down himself with a smile on his face.

Caleb hadn’t had a nightmare in some time.

Tonight he dreamed of the night they’d made them, whoever they were. Now six months ago but it was as sharp and clear as if he was back in the moment. He was sprawled over Molly, one hand gripping the headboard, the other holding the purple skinned leg thrown over his shoulder, hips lost in the regular roll and crash of it. His hair falling in his face and tickling his nose but it was the furthest thing from his mind. He was focused solely on Mollymauk, the noises he made as he pulled back and pushed in deeper, as deep as he could go, the faint magical glow from his new appendage fading and pulsing back each time he did.

It had been strange when the spell had first manifested, that itchy heat tracing down the symbols he’d painted on his body, pooling between his legs and forming itself into what was unmistakably a cock. Translucent, faintly glowing with his magical signature but still, unmistakable. The thrill that it had worked- it actually worked!- was only slightly less than the one that came with Molly’s cry of delight and the sudden, burning kiss he dragged him into that very quickly dissolved into the almost frantic, joyous fucking they were tangled in now.

Now it just felt right. His body was unsure at first but it wasn’t all that different than their usual sex, just with the mind blowing addition of actually feeling when Molly’s muscles clenched and parted around him and also the maybe not so purely academic triumph of having made a spell, a very tricky and expensive spell, from scratch and have it actually work.

Because it would work, how could there be any doubt of that? Caleb knew it wasn’t technically possible to be completely certain until they had the positive test in hand but still, he felt it in himself, in the hubris that only really surfaced when he did magic and did it well. With Molly yowling like a cat in heat under him and the magic burning through his nerves, impossible to pull apart from the pleasure of it all, how couldn’t it work?

There would be a cavernous, bone deep tired in him when he was done, Caleb felt that. He’d used so much magic, afterwards he would be burned out like a matchstick, he could already feel a nosebleed coming on and vessels bursting in his eyes with the strain as he climbed towards his release in time with Mollymauk. But it was worth it. It would be worth it.

It had to be worth it.

Caleb stirred, feeling an awkward wetness between his thighs as he rolled and shifted under the blanket. That pinned his attention for a moment, what little had surfaced from sleep, so he didn’t realise what had woken him until he heard the first wheezing, rasping cry of his name.

“Caleb…” Molly was sitting up in the dark, staring straight ahead with eyes that were blown white in fear, his voice a harsh cough, “Caleb!”

He sat up, faster than his sleep fogged brain wanted to and got a lurch of nausea for his trouble, “Molly? Is something wrong?”

His husband didn’t need to answer for the fear to pierce through Caleb and shock him unpleasantly awake. Because it was clear that something was very, very wrong.

There was a thin trail of blood running from the corner of Molly’s mouth. It dripped to the white sheets and soaked in, leaving a mark not unlike a kiss.

“It hurts,” Molly whispered, his voice muffled like something was in it’s way, thin as a whistle.

And then he coughed again, a thick and heavy sound like he was trying to bring something up, curled around his belly, shoulders heaving. More kisses fell carelessly on the sheets.

Panic a white hot iron in his throat, Caleb lurched up to hold him as he fell back, the weight of him threatening to overbalance them. He groped for a spell, any spell, but it was all fucking useless. He didn’t know how to heal or solve problems, he only knew how to make them.

Like this one a sly voice whispered in his mind and guilt twisted his insides.

They had known this was a possibility. A child made by magic would inevitably have it running through their veins and, whether they were born yet or not, it was theirs to use. Use unthinkingly and uncontrolled, no sense of the power they had or what it could do. Wild magic, in its purest and most dangerous form, in the tiny, unformed hands of someone who wasn’t even a someone yet.

And Caleb had planted it there.

Up until now it had been something to laugh about, when Molly would suddenly start belching up clouds of bubbles or his skin would turn a bright green or the memorable morning when he’d been daydreaming in Caduceus’ cafe only to bump his head on the ceiling and then realise he was levitating off the ground. It had the same softness as the first time they felt them kick or the day he woke up and realised he was showing.

And Caleb had allowed himself to forget the risks, letting his initial wariness fade into the domestic bliss he’d never thought he’d be allowed but now held in his own two hands. He forgot the golden rule he’d come to know after decades of being himself, that everything good he ever thought he’d build would end in ruin.

With Molly in his arms, wheezing and hacking, struggling to draw breath in and bringing only blood up, that hit home and all he could do was watch it happen again.

“I don’t know what they’re doing,” his voice snagged and broke, the panic taking over, “I can’t figure it out, I don’t know how to stop them…”

Molly tried to speak, lips trying to move in a reassurance because of course he would be coughing up blood and trying to tell Caleb it would be okay. And in that moment he knew he couldn’t lose him, whether life wanted to let him have this happiness or not. It would have to tear it out of his hands.

So he fought back the panic before it could seal him in and did the only thing he could think to do. He threw out his magic like a rope, desperately searching for rescue in a dark, roiling sea. And he shouted for the only person he trusted to fix this.

“Caduceus!”

And in a moment, he was there. He’d clearly been roused from sleep, purple eyes blinking in a half aware shock, the bed sinking under his sudden weight. The firbolg opened his mouth, most likely to politely wonder why he was suddenly here but then he heard the fading sound of Molly’s breathing and saw the anguish on Caleb’s face and immediately he snapped to attention.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb’s voice shook as much as his hands did, holding Molly’s limp body up, “It’s the wild magic but I don’t know what kind or how to counteract it and he’s bleeding inside and he can’t breathe and-”

Caduceus cut across him, eyes fixed on his patient as he took him from Caleb and bent, pressing his ear to his stomach, “It’s druid magic. You can smell it on his breath.”

“Smell it?” Caleb’s voice strained, not understanding.

“Greenbriers,” Caduceus said simply, “Inside him. They must have summoned them.”

“Inside him?” Caleb sobbed weakly, reeling with the horror of that idea, plants of all things encroaching through vessels and constricting muscles, thorns biting in, “Oh gods, can you fix it?”

“I can hold them off until the wild magic dissipates, draw them in to the source,” Caduceus held his palms to Molly’s skin, a faint glow emanating from them, “And I’ll heal him fast once they’re gone.”

Caleb gave a shaky moan, bending over Molly like he could protect him that way, even with the threat under his own skin, “Liebling, come on. Stay with me, we’re going to fix this, it will be okay.”

Again the lips moved, an attempt at words that came out as a whistle of constricted air, eyelids growing leaden.

“Oh Molly, no,” Caleb’s panic began to rise again, bile in his throat. You have to stay awake, come on, give my hand a squeeze. Please Molly, please.”

There were a few beats of horrible limpness but then the fingers in Caleb’s grip tightened ever so slightly, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely. And he realised he could smell it, a kind of earthiness, like damp soil was somehow lining their bedroom instead of carpet, like the faintest hint of a damp, morning forest just outside their window instead of the sleeping city. It was eerily beautiful.

While his body spoke to his husband, begging him to stay awake, to stay with him, his mind murmured to their baby. Please, I know you don’t understand but you’re hurting him. I know it’s hard, please let go.

Please stay. Please let go.

And thankfully, they both listened. Lower down Molly’s body, Caduceus sighed in relief and pushed his magic forward. The forest smell faded and the raspiness eased, Molly’s breathing becoming stronger and more even. Caleb gave a dry sob and began mumbling ragged Zemnian, thankful prayers he hadn’t used since he was a child.

“There,” Caduceus sat back, nodding, “The magic dissipated, they’re gone now. And I healed the damage, all he needs now is some rest.”

“Thank you,” Caleb’s voice was flat, like he had no more emotion left to give, all of it burned away, “Thank you, Caduceus, without you he…”

“Best not to think on that now,” Cad advised gently, reaching over and giving his shoulder a squeeze, “Both of you rest. I mean, after you send me home, if you wouldn’t mind doing that. Or I could take a cab?”

“No, no,” Caleb shook his head, “I can send you back, apologise to Fjord for me. I just…”

“Think nothing of it. I’m glad I could help. I can sense you maybe don’t want a hug right now so remind me tomorrow when I come check on him and you can have one then.”

That did make him smile, wanly but all the same, as he summoned the magic to send his friend back to his apartment, “Thanks again, Caduceus.”

He missed his steady, comforting presence almost the instant he was gone. Because with just Molly’s worn out breathing and his sickly guilt, Caleb felt so small and scared.

Just four more months. He could learn new spells, find a way to dampen the wild magic, he could be ready next time. And what could really happen in just four months? When the baby arrived, they would just batten down the hatches, hope nothing too disastrous happened before they could be taught to control it.

It would be fine. It would. They both wanted this so much, it had to be okay.

But the more Caleb told himself that, as he wrapped himself around Mollymauk for a long night of no sleep, the more it sounded like a hollow kind of hope that he didn’t deserve.

#widomauk #modern au #angst prompts #cw: blood #cw: trans pregnancy #trans mollymauk #trans caleb #mollymauk tealeaf #caleb widogast #caduceus clay

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

Text

Let Me Hold You: A Critical Role Fanfic

I really have no excuse for this besides the fact that it was half-finished and I need to absorb the latest episode and figure out how to edit my current WIP to match up a little better with all the canon we've been getting. Also...like...I love Essek so much. We could have this. Caleb...it is your duty...level up the party. Just do it.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Warning: Explicit content

"For once, the anxieties...the fear...all of it felt so far away. Without those things, he barely even knew who he was. How did one define themselves without the things holding them back? It had to be with the things they desired. And all he desired was for Caleb to touch him, recklessly and like Essek would die without him. What did that say about him?"

“Oh Luxon,” Essek groaned as Beauregard laid him down on the floor. He was cold and dizzy, the sort of cold that came from continual blood loss. An ice shard in the leg would do that to a person, Essek thought. He hadn’t expected to die today, but he also hadn’t expected to run into an ancient white dragon either.

“Caduceus!” Caleb shouted. There was an ugly looking bruise on his face from where he had been bashed against a wall, and his coat was half frozen.

“I got him,” Caduceus said, voice calm and coming from underwater. There was the sensation of more pain, a rough tugging, and then blessed warmth and comfort. It had to have been his Goddess’ power rushing through his veins, pulsing against his ribs like something alive and growing. Essek’s breath came harsh and whistling in his lungs. Caleb was already handing him a water flask, and Essek gratefully swallowed the water. He cringed as he felt a pulling at his ribs, obviously whatever spell the cleric had used had been strong enough to heal him, but not completely.

“We all alright?” Fjord asked, looking harried and frost bitten.

“Well, we’re not fucking dead,” Nott grumbled, pulling an ice shard out from where it was impaling her bag.

“That dragon was super duper not fun!” Jester nearly whined, splaying out on the floor like she was about to make snow-angels on the carpet. “Fjord you really ought to have married her, so that way she coulda loved us!”

“Uh, no. That is definitely not a plan that would work,” Fjord pointed out with a long suffering sigh.

“Wow, Essek, I didn’t think it was possible for you to look pale. Dude, are you fucking okay?” Beauregard asked him rather astutely.

“I feel still...a bit bloodless,” Essek admitted, managing to pull himself into a sitting position with Caleb’s help. Essek was surprised how warm Caleb felt, and how that warmth bled into Essek and made living almost become manageable. If he was less exhausted, Essek would have probably shied away from the touch. Even after everything, he still had that ghost in the back of his brain screaming at him to leave and to go home and to bury himself in a book and to not interact with another breathing entity for at least twelve hours. However, somehow, Essek found that in his exhaustion it was easy to overcome that. Especially since being in Caleb’s arms felt worth the whole near death experience.

“Nott, ach! I am out of healing potions. Do you have any extras?” Caleb asked, and Essek could barely focus because his arm was around Essek. It was giving everything in Essek’s body not turn his head and bury himself into that embrace.

“I think I do,” Nott said, rummaging around in her half-ripped bag. The goblin swore as things came tumbling out and she barely managed to catch them. She shoved two potions into Essek’s hands. Essek, still half-lucid and very hurt, opened them both and downed them like shots. As was usually the case, the taste of a healing potion hit him in the front of his tongue. The liquid was made of a cacophony of herbal bitter notes that had him cringing. However, strangely, something else...something floral caught his attention.

Essek immediately felt better, as if a rush of energy and health had been breathed into his flesh. On his own strength, he was able to get up to his feet. He caught Caleb’s relieved smile, watched as it unfurled across his mouth. It was sweet and private and was just for Essek, and it made him breathless to think that he could ever be so lucky as to have seen that smile. Even battle hardened and bruised and dirty, Caleb was always a sight to behold.

And then, immediately, his knees went weak. Caleb yelped as he reached out and managed to catch Essek before he collapsed completely onto the floor. His arms catching Essek’s, and half-hoisting him up.

“Essek? Are you alright?” Caleb asked him, desperately searching his gaze. Essek couldn’t respond beyond nodding his head because his mouth was suddenly watering. Caleb’s scent was overwhelming through the strange fog in his mind. His canines itched to bite into the nape of Caleb’s neck and claim the exotic...pale...untouched skin there.

No, Essek thought, physically shaking his head to rid himself of these inappropriate thoughts. This was not normal...in the sense that this had come on too quick. His thighs pressed together as just the sensation of Caleb’s hands on his arms made him half-hard. Yes, definitely not normal. There was something wrong with him.

“What...did I drink?” Essek managed.

“You drank a health potion and--” Nott looked at the second bottle. “Uh…”

“Did he drink Rhino Sex?” Yasha asked, looking down at Nott.

“You gave him what?” Fjord asked, sounding horrified. Jester nearly shoved a fist in her mouth to hold back giggles...and it didn’t work in the least.

“It was just something I stole from an apothecary! Yeza said it was like, snake oil! It wasn’t supposed to work!” Nott shouted.

“Oh Gods,” Essek groaned, a wave of strange dizziness hitting him again. He couldn’t even follow the conversation any longer. This time he gave into his instincts and buried his head against Caleb’s neck and shoulder, breathing in deep the smell of wood fire and male. He had to resist every urge in his body to rut against Caleb like an animal. There were others watching...and yet, it was becoming harder and harder to think about them. Besides, who cared if they were watching? Caleb was right here...was right against him and he wasn’t moving. It had to mean that Caleb wanted Essek as badly as Essek wanted him.

For once, the anxieties...the fear...all of it felt so far away. Without those things, he barely even knew who he was. How did one define themselves without the things holding them back? It had to be with the things they desired. And all he desired was for Caleb to touch him, recklessly and like Essek would die without him. What did that say about him?

Honestly, considering how hard he was and without any relief, he might die anyways.

Distantly, Essek felt himself be half-carried and half-dragged somewhere. Suddenly Essek realized that he wasn’t pressed to Caleb any longer. Essek, fueled by his ravenous desire and desperation, found himself pinning Caleb to a wall. The kiss was bruising and filthy, and sent his hips bucking against Caleb’s. There was the distant slamming of a door, and then a bed hit the back of Essek’s knees and sent him toppling backwards. Caleb didn’t go with him, instead his eyes were bright and wild and a strange grimace was pulling at his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb apologized, and it didn’t make any sense because he should have been kissing Essek instead of apologizing. “Jester and Caduceus are out of spells, this is all I could think to do.”

“Caleb, I need you,” Essek moaned, pulling at the clasp of his trousers and finally releasing himself from the confines of his pants. He arched as he grabbed a hold of his own cock, the sensation stronger than anything he had ever felt before. It was as if he had been on edge for days, teased until he simply could no longer take it. He had never understood the appeal of that, until right then, when even the brush of the covers against him made him wanton.

“No,” Caleb said firmly, though his gaze was burning into his skin like the hottest glow of a flame. It settled upon his skin and made him whimper.

“Why?” Essek pleaded, his hips stuttering into his own hand. He sounded debauched to his own ears, and in any other situation he would have just curled over and expired from the sheer embarrassment. But at this exact moment he didn’t give a damn. “Caleb, I promise, I’d make it good...I’d make it so good!”

“Work through this first,” Caleb said, softly, comfortingly. He reached out to brush his fingers against Essek’s cheek. Essek leaned against it, chasing the touch, and just that made Essek gasp with pleasure that wracked him down to his bones. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

An oil vial was pressed into Essek’s hand. Essek wasted no time. After all, it made perfect sense, Caleb wanted Essek to open himself up for him. Essek managed to open it with his shaking hand, before turning it over into his fingers and coating them. The slick slide against his cock was worth it, as was the feeling of fullness as he pressed inside himself. This. This was what he had wanted. Now all Essek needed to do was chase the feeling until he was ready.

“Very good,” Caleb said, kneeling on the bed beside him. “You look beautiful like this, Essek.”

Essek screwed his eyes closed. He was close. He was so goddamn close. Why? What was missing?

"Please Caleb," he begged, trying to work in deeper, to press harder, but it wasn't any use. He needed Caleb so badly, entirely, desperately and he was right there. Essek could almost taste his scent, his kiss, his everything. Why was Caleb doing this to him? Why, when it was so obvious what Essek wanted? He may as well as been bleeding his feelings all over the floor for everyone to see. He was doing it again, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Essek didn’t want to stop it, especially when it felt this good to be vulnerable. But if only Caleb would touch him it would feel so much better.

"You are doing so well," Caleb promised, forehead pressed to his. "You are almost there, Essek. Be patient. Once this is over then we may give in to any of your desires."

"Why?" Essek sobbed, tears welling in his eyes and thick in his voice. He moaned as another one of his fingers stretched inside of him, but his fingers weren’t enough. "Caleb, I want you so badly. I don't...I don't want to wait!"

"Sh," Caleb soothed, cradling Essek's cheek. The sensation shooting through him and making Essek tingle. "Liebling, I want to watch you. You are so very beautiful like this. You wouldn't want to deny me that pleasure, would you?"

Essek couldn't answer beyond a whimper, he was so close, so close. He was a thread ready to be snapped by the tension. Caleb wanted to see him, and then he would fuck Essek. It made perfect sense now. He had to do this, and do it well, or else Caleb would withhold more of his glorious touch and that was something Essek simply couldn’t stand.

"That's it," Caleb said, forehead tenderly pressing against Essek's. "Come for me, Essek. Let me see you."

Essek broke over Caleb's words and the gentle soothing touch like a wave against the rocks. It was perhaps the most punishing orgasm of his whole life, and it left him light headed and strung out upon the bed. The strange fog in his mind that washed everything out in shades of desire was lifted, and everything crystallized into much more rational thoughts. He ran his tongue over his teeth, minding his still aching canines, before groaning at the utterly foul taste that clogged up his mouth.

"Water?" Essek croaked, and Caleb immediately gave him a wineskin. He swished the water, gargled and then swallowed. Thankfully, he was rid of the awful stale taste in his mouth. He couldn’t help but stick out his tongue and shudder, causing Caleb to chuckle at his antics.

"How are you feeling?" Caleb asked worriedly.

"Sticky…" Essek sighed, rubbing his legs together. The simmer of arousal was still there, but it was easier to think around. His thoughts were coming clearer and more organized, and at the moment he was choosing to simply not feel the warmth that blossomed across his skin. "Embarrassed."

"No, no need," Caleb promised him.

"Horny," Essek concurred, and despite everything this is what made Caleb blush. "As are you, I'm assuming."

"I'm...I'm fine--"

"No," Essek said desperately, wrapping his arms around Caleb's neck. "I'm open, and I want you so badly. Please, let me have you. I need to feel you inside of me, now."

“Are you thinking clearly?” Caleb asked suspiciously.

“I could list every component in my bag in alphabetical order if it would make you feel better,” Essek offered, kissing Caleb’s neck--sucking and biting at the places that were open for him. He opened Caleb’s shirt, sighing at the feeling of them skin-to-skin. Finally, he thought as Caleb sighed into his embrace. “I just need you, Caleb.”

"Desperate," Caleb chuckled, and Essek raked his nails across skin, yanking at his pants to get them loose.

"Yes," Essek admitted, finally getting his hands on Caleb. He moaned as he did. Caleb's cock was hot and pulsing against his fingers. He liberally coated him with the oil still wet on his fingers. "Oh Gods, get that in me."

"Surely I am nothing compared to what you have had before?" Caleb said, mouth kissing and sucking. "A beauty like you, you must have tasted pleasure greater than what I can give you."

"No, no, I…" Essek gasped before spreading his legs. Caleb's hands were hot on the back his thighs. He felt Caleb press into him, the sensation so overwhelming that he nearly was thrown over the edge again. He would never forgive Nott for this. He was going to die. Caleb was going to kill him with his cock and Essek didn't care. "I haven't!"

"No?" Caleb grunted as he sank in, Essek scrabbled at him trying to touch him. He needed to feel Caleb's weight as he reached so deep. Caleb caught his hand and pressed a languid kiss to Essek's palm. And Essek couldn't explain then, not when Caleb had him speared on his magnificent cock. Not when his brain was on fire from the arousal and the remnants of the magic coursing in his veins. Essek couldn’t explain that nothing in his life had ever felt like this. The Essek he knew was just a simple observer, distant and solitary like a star. His other brief, loveless relationships--his flippant couplings, nothing had touched his heart. But now he was rupturing. Caleb and his friends had broken through the walls of his heart--had passed through them like ghosts and now Essek couldn’t get enough.

But Caleb didn't move. Essek attempted to buck his hips back--to get friction, relief, something! But it was no use.

"Move!" Essek snarled and in his desperation for Caleb he had become transformed into a feral creature. His voice was almost unrecognizable in his own ears.

"Of course," Caleb said, his voice warm and halting. It broke goosebumps out all across Essek’s skin as he held him down with ease. "But tell me--hn, you didn't answer my question."

"Anything, anything! Just move, Caleb!”

"When others have had you, tell me, did you plead so prettily?" Caleb's asked before slowly his hips forward, and the drag of it, the overwhelming sensation made him breathless. Essek curled his legs around Caleb's hips to keep him from escaping. "Perhaps, ugh! Perhaps the potion, has no effect. Maybe you have always been so needy."

"It just feels so good," Essek moaned as Caleb angled his hips and hit the place inside him that had him splintering with pleasure. "More! Don’t stop!"

“Of course, anything for you,” Caleb gasped as he caught Essek’s mouth with his own, licking into it, and Essek tasted Caleb thoroughly. His fingers twisted in his hair, scratching at his back, as he tried to pull Caleb against him harder. He needed more, he needed all of Caleb. Essek needed Caleb to touch more of him, to touch him deeper, further, and harder than anyone else had ever dared to. He wanted to crack open so that he could feel more. It was filling him up, like pressure--like the light of a full moon. And how could he contain that inside his body?

“Please,” Essek begged, gripping Caleb because he would fall apart without him. Essek felt Caleb pulsing inside of him, and threw his head back with reckless abandon, baring his neck and everything inside of him. “Please, Caleb!”

“Fuck!” Caleb groaned, “I’m close!”

Essek’s hips were moving without his permission--and he was so close too. He was balanced on the edge of a knife and he couldn’t take it anymore. His second orgasm crashed through him, ripping a bestial keening noise out of his throat. Essek distantly felt Caleb’s hips snap harshly into his, felt the sticky warmth spread deep inside of him. Caleb rocked them through the aftershocks of their explosive lovemaking, before collapsing off of him.

“Oh Gods,” Essek gasped as he finally managed to catch his breath, his chest heaving with the effort.

“Are you alright?” Caleb asked, concerned, half-sitting up. Essek immediately caught him and pulled him down into another kiss. This time, it was deep and longing and felt like a breath of cool air.

“If you consider recovering from the best sex of my life alright, then I suppose so,” Essek said, unable to help his cringe at the soreness of his hips as he tried to sit up. Almost immediately he felt thrumming of arousal rise once more. Caleb noticed it too, because almost immediately his thick calloused fingers curled around him and pumped. “Oh Gods above and below…my hips are going to break.”

“Lay back down,” Caleb bid him. Caleb’s expression was tender as Essek traced the darkening marks upon his shoulder and neck. He then traced his mouth, catching on Essek’s nipple, eyes dark and longing as he continued to move down the length of his body. He tasted of Essek like he was starving, and only he could sate him. Essek wondered if maybe he had gotten a dose of the potion too, or if he was always like this. They had slept together before, and it hadn’t been like this. But were all humans so secretly and ravenously insatiable? “Rest...I’ll take care of the rest this time.”

Essek was helpless but to agree.

Essek tried to make his exit out of the Xhorhaus as quiet as possible the next morning after about three more rounds of mind-blowing sex and the deepest trance he had ever had in his whole life. Half of the reason for his sneakiness was so that he wouldn’t disturb anyone, but the other half was in order to preserve what little dignity he had left. However, seeing the other members sitting in the living room made Essek feel the kind of fear he had only ever experienced when the Bright Queen was displeased with him. Essek nearly turned around and went to go find a window to escape out of when Jester shot up.

“Are you alright?” Jester asked. “I mean it sounded like you were better than alright but I’ve rested and can use a spell--”

“Please,” Essek bid her. Thankful to all of the powers in the universe that the high collar of his mantle hid how...well...marked up he really and truly was. The last round had particularly punishing in that regard. “Let’s...never speak of this ever again.”

“So no head?” Beau piped up from the back.

“I will eviscerate you,” Essek warned, the dull ache in his hips overriding all of his well-established niceties. “Don’t make me consider it.”

“Are you gonna stay for breakfast?” Caduceus asked good-naturedly.

Essek was about to answer that though he appreciated the offer, he would be able to find breakfast on his own at home where he could recover from his all night ordeal. And he was about to open his mouth to speak those words into existence when there was a distant thud and a swearing in Zemnian from down the hall. Nott gave Essek a thumb’s up, pat his arm, before disappearing down the hall to go investigate.

“So...does someone need to go heal Caleb?” Yasha asked softly. Fjord sank down in his seat, looking mortified as Jester hid giggles into her hand. Beau began to whistle.

Essek immediately pressed his hands to his face and tried not to scream.

#critical role #critical role fanfic #shadowgast #essek theylss #caleb widogast

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just-horrible-things · 5 years

Text

Whumptober 29 - Numb

Four weeks’ leave.

It’s repeated to her enough times that it sticks.

She doesn’t need to do anything. Which is good because she can’t. Or won’t. She’s not clear. Someone else will take care of it.

When she sleeps all she sees is Caleb. Cae dead in the street like so much trash. Cae bleeding out under her hands. Last words for her that she never got to hear because she wasn’t there. Cae’s blood sticky on her skin, his chest caved in, puddled with it, torn clothes and torn skin all minced up together. Her hands sink right in and his lungs are layers of wet paper and the bone splinters cut her hands but she’s reaching as if she could find his soul in there somehow and drag him back to life.

She wakes sweat-drenched, screaming, from those dreams, and fears sleep for hours.

Awake, she can only think that she could have saved him, maybe. If she’d ignored Jay. If she’d not cared about collateral damage. She should have done everything it took. She would kill everyone in that hive, burn worlds to the ground if it could bring Caleb back. She would sell her soul and everyone else’s. She should have stolen a bike, she should have shot into the crowd, she should have done something. But she didn’t, and now he is dead.

Never again.

Jay tries to talk to her, once. She tries to throttle him, has to be hauled off him and frog-marched back to her room. She regrets nothing.

Four weeks’ leave.

She doesn’t care. She lets them bundle her onto a shuttle and down to the surface of a world. She’s not sure which world, she doesn’t care.

She’s given a room. It’s nicer than most she’s had. The bed is large and soft. The carpet is plush. There’s an en suite. She doesn’t care. It’s too quiet. She can’t sleep. But maybe that’s a blessing, because when she does it’s only blood and death and failure, and Cae’s blank, tear-stained face.

They chivvy her out of bed in the mornings with a bell and insistence that she come and eat. There is a routine of prayer and mandated recreation. The prayer helps a little. Cae died doing the Emperor’s work. And when she asks ‘why, why, how could You let this happen, he was a good servant, we were doing the right thing, why do good people die?’ the Sisters are there, guiding her, answering ‘humans die so humanity may live’ and telling her that her grief is valid, that she did everything she could, that Caleb died for the Emperor and the galaxy is dark and terrible but that’s why we fight.

It helps a little.

She finds the gym, and the treadmill, and spends all the time they will allow her there, running until her lungs burn and the exhaustion drains the thoughts out of her head. When she’s done she can lie flat on her back on the floor and stare at the ceiling and feel nothing at all, except the protests of her body. It’s something a little like relief.

Days crawl by, and she can’t believe that she is alive and he is not.

The thoughts go round and round and round. The guilt. The grief. The memories of everything they had that she will never have again. Everything she could have done. Everything she couldn’t do. Everything she didn’t do. The grief. The loss. The memories. The other friends she’s lost. The fear of who else she might lose. The gulf where her Cae ought to be. The anger. The guilt.

Eventually she starts to think that she has had every thought that there is to have on the topic. That there is nothing left to think. Probably she should just pull herself together and stop treading the same paths inside her head over and over and over. She’s pathetic, really. Soldiers lose people all the time, but they cope. Everyone else copes. And that thought isn’t new either.

She doesn’t want to think. She doesn’t want to feel.

But she spends less of each day crying, as the weeks pass. She stops begging ‘why’ in her prayers. She promises her life in service instead, renewing her oaths. She will keep fighting for what Caleb died for. She has a place and a purpose. She breaks down less often in tears.

She still runs and runs and runs.

The routine grows familiar. She doesn’t need to think to go through the motions. Wake at the sound of the bell and try to put the nightmares out of mind. Pray, and eat, and run, and pray, and eat again, read scripture, practice forms with the Sisters, spend mandated time with the other patients, eat, pray again, and run until it is time to face sleep.

It feels like forever. It doesn’t feel like enough time.

When her shuttle comes to take her back to work, she expects to break down again. To find herself overwhelmed by unwelcome tears. She expects not to want to go back, to the work that killed Caleb, to their comrades who survived where he died.

But she doesn’t feel anything. She packs her clothes calmly. They are clean and dry, the fabric familiar in her hands as she folds one garment after another. She walks away from the over-quiet room without looking back. The shuttle pilot greets her and she nods in return with a thin smile. The seat straps are familiar in her hands, the click of the fastenings feels right. The engine rumble is soothing. It hums in her bones.

Can it really have been four weeks already?

She’ll be back in the field soon. Risking her life. Watching her comrades risk theirs. She expects to cry, but there are no tears. She’s already shed them all. It’s a relief, she thinks. Maybe. She can’t afford to be crippled by her emotions forever. There’s work to do.

She has work to do.

#my writing #my ocs #ariadne #40k!ariadne #whumptober #whumptober2019 #no.29 #gore tw #grief tw #guilt tw #nightmare tw

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sockablock · 6 years

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Something New for Me and You

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Chapter 7: The Light of Early-Morning Winter

“Here,” Molly said as he walked out of the kitchen with a tray of teacups, “it’s passionflower. It’s supposed to be calming, which I think we could probably use right about now.”

They were all seated around his and Fjord’s coffee table, sprawled atop a sea of technicolor cushions and blankets. Those, along with the bright floral wallpaper, plush carpet, lace doilies on the TV stand, and deeply gaudy 15-foot tapestry to the Platinum Dragon hanging on their left, only added to the general feeling that this living room had been decorated by a colorblind, rules-blind, shame-blind maniac with too many tastes, too much funding, and altogether too much free time.

So, Mollymauk.

He finished passing around the cups and took a seat on the floor next to Yasha. “Careful,” he added, “they’re still hot.”

“It smells very nice.” Caleb noted. He and Nott were also on the ground, across the table and leaning against the couch where Fjord rested, hands on his ribs, head in Jester’s lap. Beau was perched on the armrest of the sofa opposite them.

“Thank you, dear,” Molly said. “I rather think so too.”

Jester nodded enthusiastically. “It’s really nice. Where’d you buy it?”

“I didn’t, actually. It was a gift from a…a bar patron. She said she got it from some exotic tea shop.”

“Exotic?” Beau echoed.

Molly shot her a grin. “According to the owner, all of the flowers were grown in a graveyard.”

Fjord nearly spat out his drink. “How long’ve you been making this in our kitchen?” he asked incredulously.

“Oh, months.”

Fjord gazed morosely into his cup. “Spooky.”

“I think it’s neat,” Molly shrugged. “I’d love to visit that graveyard, one day. Meet the owner.”

Nott eyed her drink suspiciously. “How’s this supposed to calm you without any alcohol?” she demanded. Her gnome disguise had long faded by now, leaving behind a goblin girl in a tattered hoodie. There was a crossbow casually resting next to her on the carpet.

“Tea has soothing effects,” Molly said. “Look it up.”

She considered this. She took a swig, then made a face. The others drank too, with varying degrees of satisfaction (Caleb, Yasha, Jester, Beau) and disgust (Fjord).

For a while they just sat there in silence, nursing the graveyard tea, listening through the walls to the distant sounds typical of apartment life, trying to wrap their minds around what had just happened. Each one of them looked like they had just run a marathon and gotten pummeled at the end—Beau and Yasha were bruised to hell, Molly had a thick bandage wrapped around his palm, Jester’s dress was torn and Nott’s covered in mud and Caleb’s entire body smelled like a forest fire.

And all of them were acutely aware that if not for a certain blue cleric, there was a chance that Fjord might not have been sitting with them in the living room, tonight.

Thankfully, he was. And he was also sighing now, turning to the rest of the group. “So…” he said slowly, “should we maybe talk about…what just happened?”

Then he gestured vaguely over to Molly’s bedroom door. “And about what to do with Toya? She’s unconscious now, but when she wakes up and realizes that we’ve suddenly kidnapped her—”

“We didn’t, though,” Beau said immediately. “We stopped someone who was trying to kidnap her.”

Molly pinched the bridge of his nose. “Technically…I suppose you’re right,” he said, “but I don’t know if she’ll see it that way. She was part of the troupe, but nobody actually had custody of her. We found her on the streets, for the gods’ sake. But Kylre was her constant companion. Probably her best friend. What he was doing might have been ill-conceived and suspicious and wrong—

“—and creepy,” Beau added.

“—but out of all of us, she was definitely closest to him.”

Yasha nodded. “When she wakes and sees that Kylre is missing, she will not react well.”

“The only good part is that at least she’ll recognize us,” Molly sighed. Then he kicked the coffee table half-heartedly and slumped his shoulders. “I don’t understand why Kylre ever attacked like that. He knows us.”

“He probably felt cornered and resorted to instinct,” Yasha reasoned.

“To be completely fair,” Beau pointed out, “he didn’t actually do anything until Jester blasted him full of…of fuckin’ holy light, or whatever.”

“He threw Fjord against a wall,” said cleric responded testily. “And it wasn’t 100% on purpose.”

Fjord hesitated. “Is that…should I be thanking you for that?”

She shrugged and said anyways, “You’re welcome.”

“I just never thought he could do something like that,” Molly muttered glumly.

“Well,” Caleb shrugged and took another sip of tea. “I can understand attacking someone who tried to control me with magic.”

There was a pause, where the rest stared at him in silence.

It took him a few seconds to notice. “What?” he asked, lowering his cup. “Why are you all looking at me?”

“What do you mean by, by…control with magic?” Molly asked.

Caleb blinked. “Was? Obviously, your Friends spell did not go over well. Do not worry, it is a reasonable reaction.”

Molly gave him a puzzled frown. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I didn’t cast any spell. I don’t even know how to do that.”

Caleb looked just as confused as Molly felt. “But you did,” he pressed. “I saw you do it. All of us did, no?”

This elicited a round of shrugging.

“If I did, I couldn’t tell you,” Fjord said. “I don’t…uh…I don’t really know much about magic.”

“Neither do I,” said Yasha.

“I know a little,” Beau admitted.

“I know a bunch,” Jester said, “but nothing about wizard magic.”

“And I don’t have Friends,” Nott added.

Caleb rubbed his eyes and sighed. “Well, you did,” he said. “I should know. Maybe it is a tiefling thing, and you are only just coming into your abilities. Unless you have prior magical training…?”

Molly instantly shook his head. “None,” he said. “None at all.”

Nobody else caught it, but Yasha frowned slightly and turned to look at him

“I’ve got natural magic,” Jester volunteered. “You probably do too.”

“I buy that,” Fjord sighed, shifting on the cushions. “And it makes sense if he panicked at your…your mind control, or whatever. But why did he bolt from the Moondrop in the first place?”

“Oh, that one’s easy,” Nott said. “He looks like a monster. If he were there at the scene of the crime, they’d blame him.”

They paused and that sink in. Jester silently reached down and pulled Nott up onto the couch with her, plopping the little goblin onto her knee and nudging Fjord aside.

“Well alright then,” Beau said eventually. “Asked and answered.”

“Unless,” Caleb said quietly, tapping his chin, “unless Kylre was guilty. Hear me out,” he added, raising his hands quickly. “Remember, he got worried when we said that we had taken care of that strange grey creature. Like he was afraid of us, for destroying it. Not glad that it was gone, or relieved it was no longer rampaging and threatening his home. Why? Perhaps because he thought we knew something, and we were coming after the source next.”

They took a moment to consider this.

After a while, Molly shook his head and shrugged. “Maybe,” he conceded. “Maybe that’s possible. But it’s awful that we just left him there. Even if we had no choice. It still feels like we abandoned him.”

Caleb nodded solemnly. “Understood,” he said.

“I hope they are not too hard on him,” Yasha sighed. “The best case would be they just arrest him and release him with Gustav when everything is over.”

“That would be ideal,” Fjord agreed. “Especially if he is innocent.”

Molly leaned back glumly, resting his head on the pillows. “This whole thing was a mess,” he mumbled. “And now I’m bleeding and exhausted and covered in mud.”

“You could take a shower,” Jester suggested. “It is your house.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I might. All of you can as well,” he added, “since we’re rather filthy.”

“I feel fine,” Nott said immediately. “No need for any of that.”

As Molly shot her a skeptical glance, Fjord closed his eyes and draped an arm over his face. “What time is it?” he asked.

Beau glanced at her phone. “Twelve forty-two,” she said.

He nodded. “In that case, y’all are also more than welcome to stay the night,” he said. “The streets are crawling with police right now, and I have a feeling you wouldn’t wanna run into them. Plus, it’s not the safest, afterhours.” He gestured vaguely at the room around them. “This probably isn’t the most glamorous place to be, but there are plenty of blankets and cushions in the living room, and we can grab some quilts off me and Molly’s beds. I know for sure I ain’t moving any more than I have to, tonight. The couch is it, for me. And there’s a little dwarf girl in Mol’s room.”

“Oooh!” Jester grinned immediately. “A sleepover! We can all stay out here and keep them company!”

“Yeah, sure,” Beau shrugged. “It would be boring at home without you anyways, Jes.”

“I would like to avoid the police,” Yasha said quietly. “I do not want to explain to them why I am still outdoors after the Detective Sergeant told me to go inside.”

“And it’s been a bit since our days bunking together in the old dressing room, eh?” Molly added in an attempt to lighten the mood. Yasha nodded back with a faint smile.

Caleb glanced at Nott, who had at this point almost completely submerged herself into a pile of pillows. Despite having survived two ridiculous battles today, she looked brighter—and warmer—than she ever had in their apartment.

“If you are alright with us staying,” Caleb said slowly, “then we will definitely take up that offer.”

Nott immediately nodded her agreement and burrowed deeper into the nest.

“Heck yeah!” Jester beamed. “Oh, it’ll be so much fun, we can stay up and braid each other’s hair, and tell each other stories, and—”

Molly put a hand up and gave her a weak smile. “Jester, dear,” he said gently, “normally I would be all for that, but do you think maybe tonight we could just take it easy and get some real rest? I, no joke, lost blood tonight. And I’m pretty sure we desperately need the sleep.”

Jester’s shoulders slumped, but she took in the worn-out shapes of Beau and Yasha, the wrecked ribcage of Fjord, and the ragged faces of Caleb, Nott, and Molly. Her expression turned soft and she nodded.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Here, I’ll help you get some quilts.”

Molly stood up slowly and extended an elbow for her to take, and she giggled and did.

“We’ll be back,” he said. “I’ll grab some more tea, too. In the meantime, all of you clean up! I don’t want my stuff getting any dirtier than it already has.”

•

“Hey!” Molly stuck his head into the bathroom, nearly scaring the life out of Caleb. “Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, gesturing in a calming manner. “I just brought you a toothbrush. And you can use my razor if you need to. It’s the purple one.”

Caleb was standing in front of the mirror, examining his face and wiping the grime away from his skin with a towel Jester had launched at him not ten minutes ago. Being this careful with his personal grooming was still somewhat new to him, but he felt like he needed to make an effort in someone else’s home. His battered coat dangled off the back of the door, and his tie hung limply from one of the pockets.

“Oh,” he said, turning around. “Ah…thank you. I should be fine, but the toothbrush is appreciated.”

He took it from Molly’s hands, and then paused.

“I just…uh…I just wanted to say, there is no shame in casting magic unawares,” he said slowly.

Molly raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked into a confused smile. “Whatever do you mean, dear?” he asked.

Caleb blinked and tried again. “Just that…well…you seemed somewhat bothered before when I said that you had cast Friends. It is not unheard of, when emotions are running high, to accidentally trigger a spell. I have done it once or twice without meaning to, just on instinct. You are not alone there.”

Molly immediately opened his mouth to say something. And then he paused, and closed it again.

He met Caleb’s concerned gaze and nodded. “Okay,” he said. His tone was much more subdued than before. “That’s…uh…that’s good to know, I think. Thank you.”

“Er…no problem?”

Molly nodded. Then his expression brightened again and he said, “Hey! Hey, let me also grab you some pajamas. I can definitely find you something better for the night than muddy performance attire.”

“Er…er…I am fine though,” Caleb said, thrown by the sudden shift in conversation. “I do not, uh, need anything fancy.”

Molly snorted. “You’re already wearing fancy, dear. I can’t imagine that a collared shirt and slacks are comfortable to sleep in. Let me lend you something! I must have another t-shirt and some clean boxers somewhere.”

Caleb’s ears went red. He hoped that Molly wouldn’t notice. “Really,” he said. “Really, I am fine—”

Molly shook his head and waved a finger in front of Caleb’s nose. “Nonsense!” he said. “You’re my guest tonight. I’ve got to make sure you’ve got everything you need. Besides, Beau already stole some of Fjord’s stuff, and Jester keeps a spare set of pajamas here. We managed to find a t-shirt that fit Yasha and I convinced Nott to take one from me already as well. So it’s only you left, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb considered mounting a defense. He had the words on the tip of his tongue, until he caught Molly’s pleading eyes and excited grin. He sighed and nodded in defeat. “Sure,” he said. “Ja, okay. But not anything too ridiculous, alright?”

Molly put a hand over his heart. “Ridiculous? What do you take me for?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “There are lace doilies on your TV stand,” he said.

Molly laughed. “Point taken,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do.” Then winked and vanished behind the doorframe.

Caleb looked down at the toothbrush in his hands. It was bright purple, with glittery pink flowers on it. He wondered what store in the world would carry something like this. Then he sighed again, and reached for the toothpaste.

•

“Those were, uh, those were some pretty sick moves,” Beau said over the basket of dirty clothes in her arms. “Where’d you learn to fight like that?”

Yasha, swinging a bottle of liquid detergent in her hands, paused. “Er…nowhere, really,” she said slowly. “I just sort of…learned.”

She crouched down in front of Molly and Fjord’s washing machine and motioned for Beau to pass over the laundry.

“Where did you learn your skills?” she asked absent-mindedly, gaze fixed on the series of dials before her. “You handled yourself well in the fight. Both of them.”

She was so busy trying to decide if their clothes were dirty enough to justify using the “heavy-duty” setting that she completely missed Beau’s eyes going wide and cheeks turning red.

“Uh…nowhere also,” came the somewhat strained reply. “I also just…kinda…learned them.”

Yasha settled on “ultra-clean,” and started pouring detergent in.

“It was impressive,” she said. “Like you had been in real fights before.”

Beau snorted. “Of course I’ve been in real fights,” she said. “I’m a bouncer, remember? I might not look as tough as you, but I can handle myself in a scrap.”

“I will admit,” and here Yasha reached for the laundry basket, “I was somewhat worried about you during the battles. You are just so…small.” Then she immediately turned around and met Beau’s incredulous expression and added hastily, “Not, not in a bad way! Not that you are weak, or defenseless, or…er…” she trailed off and rubbed the back of her neck. “You are just surprising,” she finished lamely. “That is all.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Beau struggled to form a response. She settled on:

“Uh…thanks?”

“You are…welcome.”

Behind them, water started pouring out of the washing machine. Their attention instantly shifted.

“Quick!” Beau yelled, gesturing wildly. “Quick, quick, close it!”

Without even a moment’s hesitation, Yasha whirled around and kicked the machine’s door. It swung shut with a loud clunk. The flood stopped, leaving them standing in a shallow puddle of foamy, soapy water.

“I’ll just…uh…get a mop, then?” Beau suggested eventually.

Yasha nodded slowly. “I think…yes. I think that would be a good idea.”

•

“Are you comfy?” Jester asked Fjord, handing him another pillow. From somewhere else in the apartment she suddenly heard the sound of bare feet slapping wetly against hardwood floors, then a strange skidding noise, then the crash of someone colliding with the hallway closet.

They both immediately elected to ignore this.

“Plenty comfortable,” he answered, giving her a faint smile. “Thanks a million again, Jes. Really. I’m pretty sure I owe you my life for gettin’ me outta that scrap in one piece.”

“Aww,” she beamed, “it was nothing.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t, though. Seriously, that was some pretty incredible magic. I mean, I knew you could heal, I’ve seen you do it with papercuts and stuff before, but…but Jester, I had a shattered ribcage. And now it’s…it’s fixed. How did you even do that?”

She shrugged. “The same way I do the other stuff!” she said. “We talked about it before, it was the Traveler! He gives me all sorts of cool powers.”

“Yeah,” Fjord said, “yeah, I remember that. I just…I didn’t know he could do…all that.”

“He’s a god, silly,” Jester giggled. “He can do anything.”

Fjord nodded slowly. “Right. Right, of course. Hey, uh, just out of curiosity, how much do you think he—”

“Alright!” Molly announced, entering the living room. He was now in his silk pajamas, being trailed by a very reluctant, very embarrassed-looking Caleb dressed in an oversized rainbow t-shirt and what appeared to be a pair of long, rainbow tie-dyed pants of indeterminate material, completely covered with images of smiling cat heads. They were obviously meant for someone taller, and completely obscured his feet.

Fjord had seen these pants before, worn by Molly unironically a few months ago. Jester had never seen this much color on Caleb’s body before.

Nott emerged from her cocoon of blankets under the coffee table and gave him a cursory once-over.

“Well…” she said eventually, “I’ll support you if this is how you want to dress from now. It’s very…flashy.”

“You. Look. Amazing!” Jester declared, running over to admire the outfit in closer detail. “Where did you get these?”

Molly grinned. “I have no idea,” he said. “That’s the best part, really.”

Caleb had his hands on his face now, to prevent anybody from making eye contact with him. “It was the most tame thing in Mollymauk’s closet,” he said dejectedly. “It was either this or a suit made of sequins, some sort of leather harness, lederhosen, or a vampire cloak.”

“Or paisley,” Molly added helpfully. “There was a lot of paisley.”

“Right,” Caleb mumbled. “That too.”

“I’m making this my new phone background,” Jester said, reaching for her cell. “I’m going to take photos and then print out copies and then staple them to every telephone pole in this city.”

“Please no,” Caleb protested weakly. “Just…no.”

“Let’s spare the poor man and just keep some blackmail images for ourselves, eh?” Molly suggested. “Some things are better kept private, after all.”

Jester laughed. “Okay, okay,” she said. “But I wasn’t kidding about the phone background part.”

Then Beau and Yasha emerged from the hallway as well. They were also dressed in baggy t-shirts, but their shorts were much more tame and definitely had come from Fjord. Strangely, their feet were soaked. As they approached, they both stopped in their tracks and stared at Caleb.

“You look like a pride parade threw up on your ass,” Beau said. “And then a cat shelter.”

“Do those belong to Mollymauk?” Yasha asked.

“Can we please just go to bed?” Caleb groaned. “Please? Lights off and nobody looking at my legs?”

Beau snorted. “If I know Molly, it’s not the legs he’s—”

She was cut off as Yasha pointedly nudged her with an elbow and shook her head. Beau pouted, but relented.

Molly gave a cough and glared at Beau. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I think maybe going to bed is a good idea. 2AM seems like the perfect time finally get some sleep, huh?”

“Amen to that,” Fjord called from the couch. “I’m not talking to any of you anymore, until I’ve had a full eight hours.”

Jester yawned and nodded. “Sounds good to me,” she said. “Besides, I used a lot of magic today and I’m pretty tired.”

Molly waltzed over to the wall and shut the lights, letting a quiet blanket of darkness settle over the apartment.

“Good night, everyone,” he grinned. His eyes glimmered red in the gloom. “Sleep tight. And don’t let the goblins bite.”

“Fuck you,” Nott grumbled. Her voice was muffled by her pillow fortress.

And then, with that, the group finally settled in for well-deserved late-night—early-morning—rest.

•

Today 2:28 AM

Molly Tealeaf: well, what a mess eh, mister caleb? Molly Tealeaf: im so sorry the night didn’t turn out the way id hoped Molly Tealeaf: and im sorry we ended up having to fight two insane monsters Molly Tealeaf: if im being frank, it was a load of bullshite Molly Tealeaf: an quite a bit happened that I really could have done without Molly Tealeaf: including that magic nonsense you were going on about earlier Molly Tealeaf: but hey! Molly Tealeaf: i AM still happy you decided to come Molly Tealeaf: perhaps i’ll get to sing for you another time Molly Tealeaf: and nice moves! Molly Tealeaf: where’d you learn to cast spells like that? Molly Tealeaf: don’t worry, I know I won’t be getting an answer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Molly Tealeaf: good night, sleep tight Molly Tealeaf: I hope my living room floor suffices!

•

“Hey, asshole! Hey, hey, asshole, get up!”

Molly groaned loudly, shook his head, turned over, and awoke to see a mouth full of razor-sharp, crooked teeth hovering about four inches above his head.

It smelled like hot spit, and death.

As Molly took a moment to recover from the abject terror coursing through his body, Nott tapped her fingernails impatiently against her knee. Eventually, he rubbed his eyes and managed to sit up.

“What the fuck,” he asked groggily.

She pointed to the TV set. The rest of the group were already awake and gathered around the screen, peering intently at whatever was playing at the moment in the dim light of early-morning winter.

Molly followed their gazes. It was the morning news.

—a scene of carnage last night at the Moondrop & Fletching, where during the establishment’s 25th Anniversary Performance, a member of the audience transformed into a creature that immediately began attacking the other patrons. After a brief battle, it was subdued by the brave members of our city’s Crownsguard—

“Hey, that’s a lie!” Jester frowned, but was immediately shushed by the rest.

—of this morning, clerics have confirmed that the main suspect, owner Gustav Fletching, is innocent. The real culprit, identified by police as one of the performers, was captured at around 1:30AM not three blocks away, hiding in a Menagerie Merchant Company warehouse along the Eistus Marina. This individual reportedly masqueraded as a common lizard-man among the Moondrop’s other performers for two years, concealing his true identity as a Nergaliid. Better known as “devil toads,” Nergaliids are fiendish creatures originating from the wastelands of Xhorhas—

“What?” Molly shouted.

“Hang on, hang on, shut up,” Beau said.

—a common feeding pattern for these terrible monsters. Police are now working with monks of the Cobalt Soul to investigate if this was a singular event, or if it was in any way connected to the recent string of skirmishes along the Xhorhastian border. This is Cora Underbough, reporting for the Daily Crier from the King’s Hall. Stay tuned for more updates—

Nott lowered the volume and set the remote back down onto the coffee table.

“That’s why I woke you all up,” she said. “That, and I was starting to get bored.”

“Thank you,” Caleb said, rubbing his eyes. “Very…informative.”

“A what?” Molly repeated. “He was a what?”

“Nergaliid,” Beau said. “Open your ears.”

Molly shot her a half-hearted glare. “I heard what she said,” he muttered. “I was just…just expressing my shock.”

Yasha nodded slowly. “I admit…I did not realize what he was either. I always thought…I mean…he told us he was a lizard-man, and we believed him.”

“Are we sure that he really is a, a, a nerg-thing, though?” Jester asked. “What if it’s just the city looking for a goat to scrape?”

“A scapegoat?” Fjord asked.

“Yeah, that one.”

Beau shrugged. “It’s possible,” she said, “but to be completely honest, if the Cobalt Soul is involved, then it’s probably the truth. Those fuckers hate lying, even for the government. It goes against their beliefs, and stuff.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow. “How do you know that?”

Beau gave another shrug, this one more evasive. “Dunno for sure,” she said lightly. “I guess it’s one of those things I just sorta picked up. Through like…social osmosis.”

Caleb understandably did not seem convinced, but he dropped the subject.

Molly sighed. “I just…I just can’t believe any of that. I mean…it seems wrong, doesn’t it? Doesn’t it feel like—”

And then he paused, as a wave of, of…something suddenly washed over him. It felt like he was being engulfed by sensations, his vision blurring and his hearing fading. For a split second, his mind was flooded with an inundation of knowledge, of information, of foreign memories that told him: that’s it, that’s exactly it, how could you have missed it? The large stature, the ragged speech, the glowing eyes and thick scales and long tongue, the way he clung to living things and held Toya close, of course it was a Nergaliid, of course it was, how did you miss that—

He shook his head. He blinked a few times, and saw his friends staring back at him with extremely concerned expressions.

“Are you…alright?” Yasha asked.

Molly hesistated. He waited to see if any other intrusive thoughts would strike, and when none did, he gave her a faint smile.

“Of course I am, dear,” he said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well,” Beau said, “maybe it’s ‘casue you just completely spaced out and you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and—”

And then, the door to Molly’s room opened.

A very small dwarven girl in a long white dress came out, rubbing her eyes and looking thoroughly bewildered.

She met the gazes of the group sitting in the living room. She saw Molly and Yasha, and her confusion grew.

“Um…” she said softly, voice breaking like gravel underfoot, “…um, where am I? What’s going on?”

Molly glanced over at Yasha. “What time is it?” he asked quietly.

She checked her phone. “Almost seven.”

Molly nodded. “Do you think you could shoot the whole gang a text? See what’s going on, maybe if we can get a meeting together? If the news is right then Gustav should be out by now. I feel like…I feel like we all need to have a chat.”

Then he turned towards Toya and gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll fill you in on everything, dear,” he said. “But first, maybe you’d like some breakfast?”

He nodded to the rest of the group. “You all, too. I make great blueberry pancakes.”

•

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