#oh the beau lines are healing a bit

[blorbologist]

Hello yes I would like to know more about your Fullmetal Alchemist AU because that was amazing. The Ashari doing alkahestry, *chef's kiss*. Delilah as Envy, genius move. Saundor as Lust, perfect casting is perfect.

Vex with the title of Sewing Life Alchemist, much better person than the original holder of the title. And that Truth took part of her heart, oh that's good.

!! Thank you so much! I love this AU but it has so many moving parts it's hard even for me to juggle them sometimes pfft.

God there's so much to talk about uhhhh:

It's a super complicated AU in part because I'm including Campaign 1 PCs as the older cast (Vex, Vax, Percy, Pike and Grog are all in the military, Keyleth gets a bit of Scar and Mei's roles, Tary is Somewhere) and the Campaign 2 PCs as the younger (Beau and Caleb fill the role of the Elrics, Jester is probably Winry-ish with some Mei elements, Veth is a chimera, idk what Fjord is up to, Yasha is likely Ishvalan, Essek gets to be Ling <3, idk what I'm gonna do to Molly and Kingsley. Probably terrible things. He might be Hoenheim/Father/idk. Maybe he'd fit better as Ling then Greed but I Like Essek Best Ok). Which is complex enough on its own (I can get conflict between the kids and their military babysitters with Beau and Percy butting heads), but what makes it extra dicey is the homunculi. I want to try and ensure that the main villains have a good balance between CR1 ones and CR2's, but whereas many of VM's antagonists are connected (Vecna/Sylas/Delilah/kiiinda Ripley, all the Conclave), the M9's are very disperse - and with all these enemies it's hard to unite them under one goal. Do I include the Conclave? What about the Iron Shepherds? Lucien's group? Avantika? So for the oneshot I just said fuck it and narrowed in on the most Perc'ahlia relevant information (and had Keyleth there instead of Jester, to stick to the C1 cast).

I've shuffled around a lot of the alchemical signatures of several characters due to what fits and what doesn't - for instance, though Vex neatly fills a lot of Roy's role, she is never associated with fire. Caleb, however, is, so the Ed-equivalent gets to be the Flame Alchemist. As a Ranger, Vex is very difficult to make fit into the State Alchemist system, so I made her role more research-focused (while still keeping with the terrible guilt and shame that Roy has that I think fits Vex nicely as well). As the Sewing Life Alchemist, she can be a more successful Shou Tucker: I figure she stumbled on Trinket (an early state-made chimera), tried to learn how to fix him, and so ended up roped into that research division to keep her from blabbing. A lot of her research focused on healing and accelerating growth, and she has a knack for using every ounce of power offered by Equivalent Exchange; as a result it was easy enough to slot her in with the team creating viable human-animal chimeras - the people who originally fucked up Trinket. By that point, it's too late to get out. So she has a lot of Guilt <3 Elaina died either to plague (like Trisha Elric) or got burnt in one of those staged conflicts to get souls/blood for the nation-wide array. Vax gets to snipe up bits of Hughes, Havoc and Nina's roles in the story: I'm unsure of if he's been used to keep Vex in line before, but he certainly gets fucked up by Lust. I'm unsure if the military then steal him away and turn him into a chimera, or if Vex is forced to do that to her own brother to keep him alive. I really want to include some thematic nod to 'take me instead you raven bitch', though, so. Help?

Nixing the up-and-coming Colonel being the Flame Alchemist also impacts Percy's role: I knew I wanted him to be tattooed with secrets like Riza (if you cant tell from Get your hands dirty, I love the concept), but without Flame Alchemy, what could be worth hiding? After some fanangling, I decided that the de Rolos have a decent lineage of military service, especially as State Alchemists, and though Percy never showed the knack for the magic aspect he grasps the theory very well (and instead tinkered with guns). So, as the spare, he offered to get the family's research tattooed on his back. Least he could do - until the estate was swarmed and everyone was killed by some fuckers and Percy was tortured for the code to the notes on his back. Envy (Dewiwah) and Dr.Ripley were behind most of it, with Delilah taking on the faces of people Percy knew both to get her foot in the castle and to torment him. He joined the military in an attempt to protect himself, only to slowly start figuring out that they were the ones who ordered the hit, at which point he stages a lab accident and has Vex heal his back juuust enough to maintain functionality but otherwise ensuring it scars. I'm suspecting the secret was either that his family stumbled on the nation-wide array or something that put Father's plan in huge hot water. Cass is probably a hostage-ward of the Briarwoods and might not know Delilah is responsible for anything given her changing face :D

#my writing #ask #critical role #campaign 1 #uhhh I need a tag for this AU #CR FMA AU #Thank you so much for asking I could ramble on for DAYS.

[saphirered]

I am SO desperate for something with Mollymauk he was in a dream I had the other day and I can’t stop thinking about him so would you be able to write some Molly x Reader where the reader goes to find Molly in his room at a tavern after a fight that they know was particularly rough for him emotionally and physically? Just some hurt/comfort please you’re the best

Oh boy I didn't know how much I missed writing for Molly until I wrote this. Thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy it! 😘

Mollymauk had stuck around with the others for a couple of drinks, each and everyone one of them as haggard as the next. Bruised and bloodied still despite the healing of the more severe wounds, still it weighs heavy on him. He’d hoped to drown his sorrows in booze, but second ale in it does nothing but worsen a pounding headache and he’s not even tipsy. Instead he engages in the conversation, dances around with words because he doubts his feet will carry him much further than the bounds of his room upstairs. Gods, that is going to be a nightmare; heading upstairs. He’ll have to muster all the strength because while he desperately wants to crash upon a soft comfortable surface, he does not want to walk those stairs, his legs burn and feel heavy at the mere thought. Molly needs a break, desperately so and there’s only so much even he can tolerate the company he’s in. 

Then he sees you and he’s reminded that all the crazy-and crazy it is, of the Nein is worth it. They may be his friends, might be his new family with time but if it weren’t for you, he might have told them to fuck off and ran the other way. You’ve nudged him into place and he’s allowed himself to grow under your loving gaze. He sees that loving gaze. You smile. He smiles back but then his eyes fall to the necklace of bruises broken by lines of dried blood and he sees flashes of the fight before; you tossed against the rocks, large claws digging into your skin, squeezing the life out of you slowly as you try to deter the assailants, break free of the grasp as you gasp for air. In a panic your eyes met Molly’s, opposite of where you were, too far, and with enemies in between. He felt powerless. Sure you’re every bit resourceful and freed yourself but it was a close call, despite you denying it to be so. You lied when you told him otherwise, he knows that much. 

You catch him stare, readjust your shirt collar and neckline to cover most of your injuries, but all it does is pull attention to the wrapped gashes on your arm as you muffle your pain in a hiss. Still you smile at him from your side of the table. He feels something tap against his calf, knowing fully well what or rather who it is. A tail wraps around your ankle and he lets your foot rest in his lap. You raise an eyebrow but Molly just winks as the conversation continues. He doesn’t participate much and you notice. You don’t call him out on it though. Slowly little by little Molly resigns himself from interaction until he musters up the will from the pits of hell itself, groaning and moaning as he stretches. 

“I’m off to bed. You children behave yourselves.” Beau grumbles something into her cup, Caleb just offers a nod, while Jester whines about her fellow hellion leaving her all too soon. The others have more appropriate ways to say goodnight but he’ll take it nonetheless. He’s gotten used to it and grown to like it. It feels natural. When Molly walks past you, he by some grace of the gods manages to lean down to kiss your temple and whisper goodnight. You return it, albeit somewhat distant, as if in your own thoughts. He can feel your eyes on his back, following him stiffly get up those damned stairs, though he knows you know him well enough this is not one of the times where he’s silently begging you to help or join him. You remain seated and he is thankful. 

With quite the struggle he drags himself into his room. Heavy coat discarded he’s glad for the loss of the weight on his shoulders. The swords on his belt follow next, the belt too for that matter, placed against the dresser unceremoniously. Then he lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed, takes off his shoes before he lets himself fall backwards onto the soft mattress. He lays there for a solid thirty minutes staring at the ceiling. For the first twenty of those his mind is a void but then it starts processing the events of the day. Exhaustion is gone and instead he feels wide awake. Wide awake with the worst thoughts and images. He sees your eyes but instead of wonder, or your easygoing nature, instead of love and kindness they are filled with fear, bloodshot at the loss of oxygen, begging for help until they turn away from him. This time you broke free but even he knows you get lucky only so many times. He’s not ashamed to admit if anything were to happen to you, it’d break him and that glimpse behind the curtain he got, that’s terrifying. Completely and utterly terrifying. 

Down in the tavern, one by one the Mighty Nein states they probably should head off to sleep. None of them have. Caleb is back to his books, somehow capable of wrapping his brain around another spell after the shitty day you’ve had and still being bothered by Jester who adds little notes of her own to his work. Fjord, slightly tipsy is trying to teach an equally if not more buzzed Beauregard manners, the monk questioning all rules of social engagement. Nott is deep in her cups having taken on a drinking game with Yasha, who only agreed after she saw you switch half way through your second cup to water instead. It seemed the woman noticed too and nonverbally stated she trusted you’d keep an eye on your tiefling companion. 

It’s with that you quietly excuse yourself and sneak away from the others, up the stairs and find yourself standing in front of the door to your room. You listen for sound but catch none. Without even a creak you open the door and step inside to find it lit by a singular candelabra on the dresser, the flames flickering every so often. They cast shadows over the lavender tiefling curled up on the bed. At first you think he might be asleep but then you see the flames reflect in his eyes directed at the wall. For a brief second they seem to notice you from the corner of his eye. You don’t say anything and neither does he. Instead you shuffle over to the bed, discarding your extra layers, putting aside your belongings until you’re comfortable and place your shoes beside Molly’s. You gently sit down on the edge of the bed, brush your fingers over his arm. You can feel the rise of goosebumps through the fabric of his shirt and the slight shudder that runs through him. It takes some time but you’re a little more at ease when you feel a tail spade slide under the fabric of your shirt, across your stomach and wrap around your waist. It doesn’t pull, urging you to come closer, into a warm embrace. No instead it grounds Molly, lets him know you’re truly here beside him and so you wait for just a little longer, studying his features as he slowly retreats from the bounds of his own thoughts and back into this world. 

He rolls onto his back. You scoot up, given the extra space, pulling your legs under you as you lightly lean against his. Molly looks exhausted. Not just physically but mentally. Recalling how he refused to leave your side, forced you to take a healing potion and kept physical contact at all times, not because he felt a need to protect you, but simply because he felt he almost lost you, you know he’s struggling. He did almost lose you. Despite you not admitting it was a close call; you know he saw through your lie but speaking the truth is simply something that would do the both of you more harm than good. Speaking the words would make them real and undeniable. 

“I won’t ask if you’re alright.” You say with a hint of humour before your tone turns more serious. “But I am worried, Molly.” Arm bent he leans it across your lap until his hand holds onto your thigh, fingers gently tapping against your leg until the jitteriness of the motion calms, the tail around your waist tightens, and releases and his fingers rub circles into the sore muscle of your upper leg. You won’t deny the motion is a relief. You suck in a sharp breath when he reaches a particularly tender spot. Quickly his hand retreats. 

“Sorry.” He mutters, but a whisper upon the wind. 

“Will you tell me what’s running through your mind or would you prefer to leave it be for now? Tell me what you need?” Your voice is like a siren’s song, calming and urging him closer. He feels more at ease despite what plagues him. Molly thinks, thinks about your question. What does he need? He needs you. Right now he needs you. He sits up, or tries to. His body has grown too accustomed to the spot he’d moved to and would prefer to remain vertical. With some difficulty he moves up onto his elbows but the both of you can hear the popping of bones as he moves. Sweetheart you are, you wrap an arm under his and help him sit up. Don’t think he doesn’t notice you gritting your teeth. He doesn’t dare think you don’t notice him doing the same when you brush against the tender flesh of his shoulder. At this point it’s difficult to avoid sore spots. Without much strength left you instead find yourself popped up against the headboard, pillows behind to make the surface more comfortable. Molly has taken to make himself comfortable in your embrace, slouched against your chest, legs tangled with yours. That’s what he needed, to be close with you, to feel your fingers brush through his hair, nails graze his scalp as the other hand is clasped within his, held over his heart. 

“Don’t you ever scare the shit out of me like that ever again.” Molly finally addresses the elephant in the room. You sigh, he can feel your chest rising and falling with every breath, this one just a little deeper than others. Your fingers halt as he readjusts himself to better look at you. Your face looks solemn. 

“You know I can’t promise that. We’re adventurers. We’re bound to get into these situations. We know the risks, no matter how much we might like to avoid them.” You speak what he already knows to be true. He knows, but sometimes a lie, even if he knows it’s false will do just the trick.

“I’m not asking you to promise me anything. I just-. Please, just try?” It’s more a question than a request or even demand. You know how much you mean to him and know he’s haunted by the realisation this life you live is far more dangerous than he’s given credit for, despite the roles having been reversed a couple of times. You know how Molly feels about his own mortality and that of people in general. It’s yours specifically that’s proven to be the issue here. Nevermind that in all previous occurrences where he’d gotten a little close to death’s door, he’d always had the comfort of knowing you’d make sure he’d be back on his feet and leave hell to pay. It’s that with you, you’d have been a goner before anyone could have reached you. He can’t. He just can’t.

“Okay. I’ll try.” You speak and never has Molly heard words truer. It might not have been an outright promise but it feels like an oath no less. With great difficulty he pushes up from you, until he’s at equal ground with you, seated between your legs. He pulls the neckline of your shirt aside to reveal the bruises. Even in the bad lighting they look bad and make him cringe. So he decides to do what his body is screaming him not to do; get up. He reaches for your belongings, digs through until he finds a clean cloth, a scarf and the ointments he’s seen you use to treat injuries plenty of times, have used to treat his on many occasions, and waddles his way back to the bed. He kneels at your side. 

“Take off the shirt?” You raise an eyebrow. Normally when that request arrises the circumstances are far different but still you oblige, removing the fabric from your body and reveal the extend of the injury that almost cost you the ultimate price. He dips a cloth in the glass on the bedside table, squeezes it to get rid of the excess and gently goes to dab it along your neck and shoulders first, getting rid of any dirt and grime left on your skin before he refolds it and cleans whatever traces remained on your face with it. Molly opens the small jar. He’s soothed enough of his own wounds to know how to care for them. You lean your head back against the pillow behind you and  raise your chin to better give him access. Molly spreads the ointment on the bruises. He can feel you tense and bite your tongue every once in a while but knows this is simply unavoidable. He tries to be as gentle as possible and make sure the ointment will do its job proper. Once he feels his hands grow both cold and hot he knows it’s working, helps you put your shirt back on and wraps the scarf around your neck to preserve the warmth. 

Molly, at doubt for what to do next knows he’ll have to leave to rinse his hands but you beat him to it. With a wave of your hand and a mutter under your breath he feels the effects lifting and his hands are clean once more as if he never even touched the ointment. He closes the jar and puts it to the side with the cloth. That seems to drain the last of his energy. Exhaustion finally returns and yours seems to settle in fully too. Your eyes growing heavier, as you slouch down more. He guides you down to a more comfortable laying position. 

“I love you.” You breathe as Molly lays down next to you, pulling you close to his side, one leg between yours, arm under your head, while the other rests on your hip. Fingers trace along his jaw, until they rest on his cheek. You lean up and lazily press your lips to his. 

“I love you too.” He says as you pull away. Those ruby eyes stare right through your soul and make you feel warm inside. “Now I don’t know about you but I could really use some proper uninterrupted sleep.” He humours. You just hum in agreement, snapping your fingers and the candlelight snuffs out as your eyes fall closed. Molly fights off sleep for but moments longer, waiting until he hears your breath even out and you pull yourself closer to him. He knows you’re asleep safe and sound. You’re within his arms. It’s reassurance enough you’ll be alright. He too allows himself to drift into a peaceful sleep. No more nightmares to haunt him. Only dreams of the two of you; happy, fulfilled and ready for whatever the future might bring. You'll face it. 

#critical role x reader #mollymauk x reader #critical role mollymauk #mollymauk #mollymauk tealeaf #mighty nein x reader #critrole x reader #critical role #critical role fanfic #critical role fanfiction #critical role imagine #mighty nein #critical role x y/n

[deaneverafter]

"That, coupled with the challenging economics for a drama series in its fourth season and rumors of on-set tensions had made a renewal for the drama a long shot heading into the upfronts."

okay, now i'm starting to wonder if there were RL reasons, not just narrative reasons why they positioned jensen's character so deliberately between the two leads? whatever the case, this sucks 😞 but on the bright side, the last shot of the entire series is jenny and beau being soft and holding hands and him choosing to stay, so there's that ❤️ at least the possibility of jenny saying something like "oh, he went back to houston" if there was a fourth season is no more.

Hm, I'm not sure I saw it as Beau being placed between them, but more as them both having their own stories a bit, and Beau had the proper storyline AND the chemistry with Jenny, so that's where he ended up being. And to be honest, they've had some separation in earlier seasons, this season just committed to it by giving them separate "teams". But, if it was because of some drama, that would mean the writers would already have had the inkling that this might be the last season..... which highkey means there was even less reason for the showrunner to shove in Beau's evil ex and crazy offspring, there was no need for an "exit strategy" (not that this made sense even before, but that's a different essay). But, they really got away with wasting so much of what ended by being the last season, because people kept excusing this storyline, for this reason (but lowkey also because "spn fam" hates Jensen and his characters and will defend anyone who demeans him).

At the end of the day, who knows. Maybe there was drama and that contributed to the show ending, maybe it's just an unfounded rumour. For all we know, even if it's drama, it wasn't necessarily between actor vs actor. It could be within the writers room even, tbh, because there was definitely some discord there, clear differences between how different writers saw and wrote the story. That could certainly get ugly, there's a reason Dabb populated his writers room with people who hate Dean as much as he does, as soon as he was put in charge.

I agree with that completely about the ending though, it was a nice ending (and it certainly could've been a lot worse). I still maintain they should've kissed though 😂😫 But yes, the only good things about this cancellation is that A, they can't mess up Beau, send him back to an abusive marriage, write some ooc thing like episode 11. And, B, they can't disrespect Jenny/Katheryn (or Beau) anymore. I really cannot imagine treating your lead the way they treated Jenny, putting her story with her mom on the back burner, treating her like the third wheel in her own romantic storyline, all just to waste time on guest characters Carla and Emily. At least if time had been spent on the mystery, exploring Sunny and Buck, Walt, their pasts, motivations and impulses, it would've made sense. But this? Nope. Or, the way a guest character like Carla could come in and be condescending and catty to her for no reason, literally just for existing (and being better than Carla could ever hope to be, in every single way possible) and have the narrative still treat her like royalty. That's just messy af (the only other time I've seen a lead treated like this is Supernatural, where of course, treating Dean like garbage was an initiation rite for every writer and character in the later seasons 🤦🏻‍♀️). Nor did it make a whole lot of sense to bring in Beau as a main character for the season, situate him in the main story opposite their lead, and then instead of exploring him, his trauma, his past and his healing, his relationship with Jenny, they just..... reduced him to "dad!Beau". So, as much as I'll miss Beau and Jenny, that is at least one silver lining, that we won't have to worry about them as characters being insulted and as actors, not getting the writing that's worthy and does justice to their skills. But that doesn't change how angry I am that they had just the one season with Beau, and Beau/Jenny together, and they wasted it. Even with little proper focus, their story/dynamic ended up being so beautiful. Imagine what it could've been if it would've been explored properly, if the focus had been on the right things!

#Big Sky

[wearywinchester]

Healing Hands

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After returning from a hunt, you’re there to patch Dean up.

Requested by Anonymous: ““Let me bandage you up.” and “Let me see your scars…” are sooooo Dean omg”

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: injury, mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol, scars, fluff, kissing

The very moment your hand fell to the mattress, the spot empty and cold just to your left, a heavy sigh huffed past your lips. The old bedroom was dimly lit as the occasional glow of moonlight streamed through the sheer curtains, quickly covered by more rain clouds as the night ticked by, the room quiet save for the wind swaying the trees outside. On the nightstand to your right, the alarm clock read 12:07 in blaring red numbers, blurred from the drowsiness that hadn’t quite left yet.

He still hadn’t come to bed.

With a yawn, you push back the tattered flannel blanket sprawled over you, bare feet pressing to the cool hardwood floors of the small bedroom as you make your way to the door. You knew exactly where he’d be as you wandered through the hall and down the stairs, Bobby’s snoring still just as loud as it’s ever been. The carpet lining the staircase was worn away from years of the same foot traffic in the same spots, fraying at the edges and threadbare in some places. You wince at the creaky squeals they made even with the slightest pressure upon them, sneaking a glance at Sam still nestled comfortably on the couch. As comfortably as he could be with the way his feet hung ever so obviously over the arm of it and his fingertips nearly brushing against the floor.

One simple move and surely he’d fall off.

You stepped lightly through the room and around the heaps of lore books piled on the floor around the old coffee table, one laying face down and open atop Sam’s chest as he slept peacefully. You knew he’d been looking for a new case even though you just got back from a hunt mere hours earlier, but that’s just how Sam was.

The softest glow of light filtering out from the kitchen leads you in the right direction, the very same direction you’d been heading in anyway. When you rounded the corner your lips pursed immediately at the sight, one you knew you’d be seeing and you were right, leaning your shoulder against the doorframe as your arms crossed over your chest. You eyed the empty beer bottle on the counter, two bent bottle caps to accompany it and you heaved the softest of sighs.

Standing just paces away from you was your beau, the man you’d been in search of for no longer than a couple minutes as he stood with his back to you at the small kitchen sink. If you had to guess, he’d been gazing at the tree line on the very edge of Bobby’s property, his mind probably going a mile a minute otherwise he’d have been in bed already.

In a matter of moments he’d turned his head, the silhouette of his nose and angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips and the raise of his brow coming into view.

“I thought I told you not to wait up for me, sweetheart,” he said softly, voice gruff and mildly frustrated all the same.

You roll your eyes, head tilting to the side. “And I thought you knew better than to believe I’d ever listen.”

He chuckles then, half humorously and half not as he turns to face you and lean back against the counter. That was the problem, you hadn’t listened almost the entirety of that day and it brought you closer to danger than he ever would have liked you to be. Your independence was something he would always love about you, but sometimes he wishes you weren’t so fearless for just once.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he looks at you, lips pursing to match your own. That’s when you saw it. You saw the smudges of crimson still remaining on his cheek and that alone was telling that he had yet to touch the graze on the top of his shoulder. You should have known better than to take his word for it when he said he’d do it.

His brow quirks up all the more when you walk the few paces towards the cabinet with a less than pleased expression.

“What are you doing?” He asked, watching as you pulled out the first aid kit, taking a sip from his beer.

“Let me bandage you up.”

“‘M fine, Y/n.”

The look you give him is one that has a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, one that deepened the displeasure you held because you were absolutely not amused. Not even a little bit. But he takes a seat at the kitchen table with a huff anyway, his gaze on you as you set everything down on the worn surface.

“I thought you said you were gonna do this, Dean,” you sigh, exasperated, digging through the kit in search of a few cotton pads and a bandage for his shoulder, snagging a few strips for his face.

“I told you, I’m fine,” he argues quietly, swirling the beer around in its bottle before flashing you a smile.

“Yeah, that’s the last time I’ll take your word for it.”

It’s quiet for a few moments and you can feel his stare, stealing a glance to meet his gaze before you look back at the task at hand, grabbing what you need and pushing the kit off to the side and out of your way. It was obvious you weren’t all too happy with him, he could tell by the soft frown tugging downwards on your lips and the furrow of your brows, by the way you tense your jaw no matter how subtle it was.

“Y/n—”

“I’m serious, Dean. You always say you’re fine and you’re not. You still have blood on your face,” you say, refraining from raising your voice as the frustration simmered in your stomach.

He sighed, his own jaw clenching as he looked away for a moment. Taking care of himself as never the first of his priorities, especially after hunts. His priorities were always you, whether it was when you were his stubborn best friend who made it a point to prove to him you’ve got this whole hunting thing down, that you could handle things yourself, or if it’s now and you’re the love of his life who shaved years off of it each and every time you do your own thing the second he puts the car in park on a hunt. It’s you and it’ll always be you.

He brought his hand up, smoothing the crease between your brows with the pad of his thumb as his chin rests atop the glass bottle he held to the table. His hand drops a fraction to settle on your cheek, calloused and warm. He always knew just what to do to get your anger to melt, to get you to not be quite so mad at him and you hated to say it was working. It was working and he knew it. He knew it when you grabbed his wrist and tugged his hand away, shoving it lightly as the corner of your mouth quirks upwards just enough to have you rolling your eyes to hide it.

You always did that and he’s come to know exactly what it meant.

“That’s not gonna work on me forever, De,” you say, trying to sound matter of fact with your words.

He laughs softly, grinning up at you. “Yeah it will.”

You exhale a huff, giving up your efforts on stifling the softness of your smile because you knew he was right. You couldn’t when he looked at you the way he did with a certain fondness reserved just for you. With a shake of your head you gather your thoughts once more from before he’d gone and distracted you, ripping open an alcohol pad before unraveling it. He winced at the sting it caused when you swiped it over his skin, grazing over the scratch across his cheek that he’d neglected since you got back to Bobby’s for the night.

“Easy there, would you, sweetheart?” He grumbles, lips pursed and brows furrowed.

“Oh, shut up,” you murmur, smile widening when he nudged you with his knee in disapproval.

It was then that you dipped down, lips pressing gently to his own to soften the grumpy attitude that surely was brewing the more you tended to his wounds. In fact, you knew it was with the way he bounced his knee under the table. You felt his smile press into your kiss, his lips lingering over your own to steal another before you went and pulled away from him. You knew how to ease his anger just as much as he knew how to ease yours, his grin still apparent when you pull back enough to see it.

“Don’t start thinkin’ that’s gonna work on me forever,” he says, copying your earlier words.

You raise a brow in amusement, leaning down to hover mere centimeters over his lips. You felt his breath fan over your skin and his nose brush against your own as he leaned all the more closer.

“I’ll try and remember that.”

You pull yourself away once more and the look on his face has you smiling, a laugh leaving your lips when he frowns, lips pursing till those dimples you love oh so much appear at the corners of his mouth. You reach behind you and grab the bandages you snagged from the kit, the cut on his cheek superficial enough to only require a couple of closure strips to heal as it needs to.

Next, you peel back the sleeve of his shirt, the soft gray material having been stained crimson on his shoulder, more than it probably would have been had he tended to it like he said he would. But you were too tired to argue over something so trivial, not after the day you’d had. What you weren’t too tired to do was flash him another displeased look at the sight of the scrape running red and irritated along his skin, some parts deeper than others. It wasn’t something that could just be let go, not with the way Dean gets bumps and bruises every other day.

He groaned when you grabbed the peroxide, something he hated each and every time you used it. He’s suffered some of the worst injuries, but he’s convinced it’s something as simple as an antiseptic that’ll kill him.

“Sweetheart,” he grumbles into his beer bottle, one you’re quick to swipe from him mid gulp and put it out of reach.

“It’s midnight, De,” you sigh.

He sits back in his chair with slumped shoulders, letting his eyes fall closed and allowing you to clean him up. You pressed a fresh hand towel you snagged from a cupboard and held it below the wound, careful as you poured some of the clear liquid over it. He tensed immediately, brows furrowing as he reached for his drink once more. He gives up when he can’t reach it, sitting back in his seat with that ever familiar frown again.

You cap the bottle and set it aside, gentle as you blot at his shoulder. His gaze bounces around from the window by the table to the clock hung a tad bit crookedly on the wall, it’s pendulum swinging lightly as the ticking filled the near quiet of the room. Then his gaze drops to the table, his fingers tapping against the scratched wood as he puckers his lips in thought. Something was going through that head of his and you knew it, knew by the way he bit the inside of his cheek. You knew it for a fact when you saw the smile appear on his lips the more he thought about it, even more so when the softest of laughs puffs out through his nose.

“Remember the first time you ever patched me up?” He asks, eyes lifting to meet yours.

Your own smile was instant, the thought quick to come to mind. You set down the towel in favor of grabbing the gauze and the half-used roll of bandage, turning back to him. “We were nineteen, and you just came back from a nasty hunt after playing tough guy with a wendigo.”

“I had it handled,” he defended, voice faltering as he recalled just what happened with a grin.

“You said that then too,” you counter, eyes rolling as you chuckle to yourself. You rest the gauze over the top of his shoulder before unraveling the roll of bandage. “You were sitting almost in this exact spot too.”

“Once a tough guy always a tough guy, huh sweetheart?”

If you roll your eyes another time they just might stay there, your head shaking and your smile widening. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

He’s beaming by this point. “I can’t be the handsome hero all the time.”

Your smile goes from teasing to soft, dipping down to press a kiss to his forehead, one that he very much got the utmost joy out of as he looked at you. “And remember what you said to me that night?”

“‘Let me see your scars’,” you said at the same time.

“But, out of all your hunting scars, you know which one is my favorite?” You hum, tucking in the end of the bandage once you finished wrapping it, tugging down his sleeve. “That one right above your knee when Sam accidentally knocked you off your bike when we were kids. Your dad didn’t let you see us for a week after that.”

“Because you were a troublemaker,” you jest.

“Was not.”

“Were too,” you argue, tone softening. “Still are. Ten years later you still are.”

Your words were backed when your eyes fell to his hand, catching a glimpse of the repercussions of getting worked up when a demon tries to get in even a word about you. Not to mention words that got Dean more than a little angry. He still didn’t master the ability to tune them out when they say things to work him up, that’s what they do. They can say all they want about him, but not you.

You brushed your thumb over his knuckles, sighing quietly as you looked at just how red and angry they looked, near purple and you knew his hand had to be sore. It was clear to see he’d at least cleaned them up but you knew it couldn’t have been anything more than the dish soap Bobby had under the kitchen sink. He was never really one to look after himself, especially after hunts. Unless he’d been seriously injured, he couldn’t care less about other things because he was too busy fussing over you. Even if you’d gotten something as simple as a scratch, he’d worry and he’d frown, he’d overdo it with the bandages and he’d grumble about it.

He watched as you ran your fingers over each knuckle, a delicate sweep along his skin and he knew it was because you were afraid of hurting him any more than that demon did. He heard your sigh and he saw the softest of frowns on your lips. Without a word he pulled you closer, sitting down on his lap.

“I would say I can’t believe you didn’t patch yourself up, but I can,” you say, watching the way his lips quirk into a smile.

“Maybe I just like when you do it,” he shrugs, his smile widening as he bumps your nose with his.

“You’re a dork,” you murmur with a sigh.

“I’ll take it,” he says softly, still smiling as his breath fans over your lips after he laughs quietly. “Now will you kiss me already? I’m dyin’ over here.”

Your smile is immediate as your lips brush over his, pressing fully as your grins mingle in the more than close proximity you had. His lips were warm and soft, his kiss tasting of beer and a bit of that apple pie he indulged in at the diner and maybe a hint of a burger. When you pulled away you weren’t quite ready, he wasn’t quite ready, kissing him once, twice, three more times with a promise that that probably wasn’t the last of the sweeter than sweet kisses to be shared that night. There were bound to be at least a few more before he finally crashes after the day you’ve all had.

“Thanks for patchin’ me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his forehead resting against yours.

You hum softly in response, smiling like a fool just as much as he was. You’d always take care of him and he’d always take care of you. Even if you’ve both got the attitudes to rival each other, there isn’t a single hunt that will go by where you wouldn’t look after one another.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @dean-is-sams-apple-pie @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @agalliasi @campingmonkey

#dean winchester #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic

[beauregardlionett]

healing hands

Healing magic only did so much, especially when the wounds were deep.

There was a distinct...she wouldn’t say touch, but something to each caster’s magic. Like most of the arcane and divine, it took time to attune to the intricacies of the individual, to find those subtle and unique cues in the weave. By now, Beau could pin point how stretched Jester’s magic was by how intense the zing was through her veins. She knew Caduceus needed to rest by how deeply the warm curl of his magic traveled through her muscles. And if she didn’t sense it in the moment, she knew by how much she ached afterward.

A fair amount of healing meant sore muscles - like she had done a vigorous workout the day before. The best healing Beau got meant any lingering trace of stiffness was long gone by the time she finished her morning stretches.

This time though, a full day later, she sat up in her bed and winced. Her shoulder was tighter than it had been in a while. The joint stubbornly refused to move through her full range of motion without some kind of protest.

Beau raised her arm again, forcing herself to breathe as she did. Despite her best attempts, something pulled and protested and she dropped her arm again with a strangled curse. She couldn’t even put her fucking hair up. It seemed a miracle Beau got dressed this morning. But now she sat on the edge of her bed, frustrated at her inability to do this one simple task.

If she couldn’t even put her own hair up, what was she going to do if the group encountered hostiles in their travels? Without full mobility and use of her arm, Beau might as well be dead weight. The group would have to compensate and carry her weight, and what if they decided she wasn’t worth the effort? They had come a long way since Trostenwald, sure; but how far were they willing to go? Beau understood little about healing magic other than how it felt, but she figured it did little for old injuries. This one had been healed over with minimal magic and a night’s rest. Would magic even matter?

A knock on her door.

“Beau? Are you up?”

Yasha.

Beau debated staying silent, but that would likely only incite further concern and she couldn’t have that.

“Yeah,” she called back. “Just getting ready.”

“Okay,” Yasha said through the door. “Everyone is heading to breakfast. Do you mind if I come in?”

There was no reason to say no. Beau had stated that she was getting ready, so her unfinished appearance would not be unusual. Even if she pretended to be half dressed, the entire group had literally seen every one of them naked and soaking in a hot tub. Modesty did not exist between them.

“Yeah,” Beau answered without too much pause. “Come on in!”

She could not see the door to her tower bedroom from the edge of her bed, but she heard it open, then shut. The soft pad of Yasha’s boots against her floor followed, growing louder as she got closer. Beau tried for a normal expression and knew she fell painfully short when Yasha stopped in front of her and cocked an eyebrow.

“You look tense,” Yasha said without preamble. “Are you okay?”

Useless.

Beau bit her lip and tried for a grin, knowing before the expression even finished setting that she convinced no one. She held her limbs like she was in pain, like she might bolt with one wrong move. (Both of which were true.)

But what was she going to say? That she got hurt and was therefore useless to their day’s plans? That when they put the tower away after breakfast, Beau feared being left behind? They hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet. It felt far too early to confess such massive insecurities.

Her silence must have been more telling than she meant it to be, because Yasha knelt in front of her and placed her big, warm hands on Beau’s knees. Her mismatched eyes were twin pools of gentle concern. One thumb rubbed back and forth over the uneven ridge of Beau’s kneecap. Every line of Yasha’s posture denoted attentiveness to Beau’s condition, a willing participant in her struggle. It was something Beau still struggled to comprehend.

Sometimes she wished she knew how to lie to Yasha.

Except she didn’t.

The thought alone left a foul taste in Beau’s mouth. Yasha had only ever been honest with Beau, and she did the same in return.

They had come a long way since Trostenwald.

Beau deflated with a heavy exhale, fingers picking at a hangnail.

“My shoulder hurts,” she muttered. Something aged and defensive curled with an unpleasant roil beneath Beau’s sternum. “I don’t think it healed all the way after that fight the other day. I can’t even raise my arm to do my hair.”

Yasha’s eyes tracked to Beau’s shoulder, something shuttering over her expression for a moment as if she remembered the nasty wound that had sat there. Her fingers tightened for a moment over Beau’s knees before Yasha smoothed over her ragged edges with a steady breath.

“You’re scared.” Not a question.

Beau nodded, finding her voice failing her.

“Would you like my help?”

This was why Beau could never lie to Yasha. Even after months and months of travel and trial together - there was never any assumption. She always asked, and she always took the word ‘no’ without question. Yasha was obvious in her desire to be close to Beau, but she still remembered to leave room for permission. She also held Beau’s fears with all the care she afforded her flowers, and promptly banished them with ease.

“Please?”

Yasha’s smile unfurled the way a summer storm came on. First, a shadow. Then, a slow, steady trickle of what was to come before it completely unleashed - full and inescapable.

She stood from in front of Beau and climbed up onto the bed behind her. There was a moment of shuffling, of rumpled sheets against shifting legs before Yasha’s fingers were in her hair. Her fingers combed through Beau’s tangles, working to unwind knots as tension unspooled from Beau’s shoulders. Her blunt nails against Beau’s scalp felt like permission to cease existing for however long Yasha would let her.

Beau became so lost in the repetitive, soothing sensation of Yasha’s fingers in her hair that she failed to process when Yasha finished. Her hair was neat and spun up into a braided bun, secured with her hair ribbon like always. Beau only realized Yasha’s hands had worked down her neck and over to her shoulder when a flare of pain pulled Beau sharply back into focus.

“Sorry,” Yasha murmured, her fingers lightening their pressure. “It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.”

“Done what?” Beau managed as the pain faded to a dull throbbing.

“This,” Yasha repeated, applying less pressure than before. “We did not have many healers in my tribe, so we all learned the basics. If it hurts too much, I can stop.”

“No,” Beau said, perhaps a little too quick. “No, it’s okay. It just took me by surprise.”

“Are you sure?”

Beau twisted enough to find Yasha’s eyes over her shoulder.

“I’m sure.”

With Beau’s permission, Yasha continued her work, tentative at first. Her fingers worked with more expertise than Beau realized she had, applying pressure to knots and spots of tension. She held her fingers in certain places, adding more weight in slow increments behind the press, rubbing to soothe the spot when it finally released. It ached, of course, but by the time Yasha had given attention to all of Beau’s shoulder, she was a limp, loose puddle of content.

Yasha cupped her hands over Beau’s shoulder, moving it in careful circles, testing the mobility. Her hands grew warmer, glowing in Beau’s peripheral.

Of course. How could she have forgotten?

Where Jester’s sang like an electric zest, a sugar rush, and Caduceus curled like sunshine and a warm drink, there was also Yasha’s healing magic. Yasha, who was not a healer by trade. Who raged quietly in battle and personified a storm. Her magic spread like the buzz of static electricity over Beau’s skin, but sunk into her muscles and her veins with the gentle heat of summer rain.

She was so caught in the familiar fever of Yasha’s balm that she offered no resistance when Yasha lifted Beau’s arm all the way above her head.

“That seems better,” Yasha said, voice soft.

Oh.

Beau blinked and looked up at Yasha and her arm.

“Much,” Beau agreed, voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

Yasha grinned, clearly pleased with herself. As she shuffled off the bed, Beau tried not to mourn the loss of her warm hands. But then Yasha stooped to press a quick kiss to Beau’s forehead as she grabbed her hand, tugging Beau to her feet.

“Breakfast?”

There were a million other things Beau would rather do than eat breakfast right now - every one of them involving Yasha’s hands staying on her. Perhaps they could explore all that later, when Beau’s brain remembered how to form a full sentence and Yasha wasn’t looking at her like that.

“Sure,” Beau croaked. “I could eat.”

She didn’t let go of Yasha’s hand for most of the morning.

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #writing #my writing #beauregard lionett #yasha #idk just a small thing because i thought about yasha doing beau's hair

[local-ground-apple]

Hi💗 can i request a kissing headcanon with dorm leaders please ? ❤ (english is not my native language too, is spanish XD) but i see that you are very good at it ♡

Fun fact, if I manage to sign up in time, I will be learning Spanish at uni this year

Also thank you anon 💗💗

I have no clue why Vil is quite lenghty. Oh, and I added one character to the mix 👀👀

🥀 Riddle is always tad embarrassed when you shower him with small kisses in public. His face would flush and slowly he would begin turning into rosy, blushing mess. His eyes avoid yours and he would mumble incoherently something along the lines “oh, stoph it”

🥀 Riddle even forbade you to kiss him in public,

,,Rule 812, Y/N shall not kiss Riddle Rosehearts in public”

🥀 Cater is your shipper#1 and he loves taking sneaky pictures of flushed and embarrassed Riddle, he even has a special folder for you two, (Trey often shows up in the perfect moment just right before Riddle snatches his phone and crashes it)

🥀 however, when you’re two alone, he doesn’t mind you showering him in affection and he does his best to return the favour,

🥀 Riddle is generally a bit anxious about kissing and he often gets nervous. At first his kisses are sloppy, he may accidentally bite your tongue, he doesn’t know where to put his hands....it’s a bit of a mess,

🥀 Riddle’s kisses are pretty short and sweet, really chaste and gentleman like. He loves kissing your cheeks 

🥀 after a while he gets used to showing you affection in public, but Riddle still gets pretty frustrated when you kiss him out of blue, no matter how far in relationship you are,

🦁 kisses with Leona are usually rough and passionate. He loves grazing his teeth over your lips, before slightly biting them,

🦁 his hands would be roaming everywhere around your body, literally everywhere, yet mostly stoping at your waist. Leona just simply adores holding you close and touching your soft skin while he showers just in affection, 

🦁 his kisses feels both – eager and lazy at the same time. Leona often leaves a trail of violet and red marks on your neck, before biting and nibbling on it,

🦁 he loves your neck in general. Kisses you there way more often than on your lips, 

🦁 Leona adores leaving hickeys, reddish marks and his scent on your neck, so then everyone knows that you’re his,

🦁 often buries his head in the crook of your neck when he’s sleepy and gently presses his lips to your skin. He absolutely adores when you wake up with a kiss, 

🐙screams internally each time you lean in for the kiss, 

🐙 Azul is pretty much touch-starved and he isn’t used to receiving and giving affection. He absolutely loves when you breathe compliments and praises in between your soft and gentle kisses, 

🐙 at first, he feels insecure about his kisses, often pulling away after a second, gently grazing his lips over yours and making sure you’re comfortable,

🐙 when you assure him that he’s doing great, he shall continue. At first, it all feels pretty hesitant and experimental and Azul is not entirely sure what he’s doing,

🐙 however, when he gets the hang of it, he’s the absolute god of kisses. Can and will surprise you with gentle kisses on your hand, forehead, cheeks,

🐙 Azul may be even bold enough to pin you to the wall and hungrily smash his lips on yours in desperate kiss,

🐙 won’t straight up ask you for a kiss, no, Azul will offer you a “contract”

,,Y/N, do you need help with homework?” “Yes, I would deeply appreciate it!” “Well, maybe if you kiss me…”

🐙 you both are always finding for dominance in kiss and Azul always make sure to win,

🦂 the chaotic duo is back again,

🦂 your kisses are playful and short, yet they happen at least hundred times a day,

🦂 you are often seen running up to Kalim, grazing your lips over his in ghost kiss and dashing away while giggling. To return the favour, Kalim loves surprising you by coming up behind you and planting a soft kiss on your cheeks,

🦂 he isn’t too shy to kiss you in school hallways, canteen or even classroom. Kalim always make sure to give you the affection and he’s pretty clingy, so the sight of you two sharing a kiss doesn’t shock anyone (even Crewel ships you too, so hard)

🦂 you’re just too adorable. You two smile a lot when kissing in the breaks to catch the air, before smashing your lips together one more time,

🦂  surprise kisses A LOT – you’re the definition of them,

🦂 you both like to tease each other. You would slightly brush your lips against his and then quickly pull away with giggle. On the contrary, Kalim would bite your lip without a warning and then runn away before properly kissing you (Jamil literally can’t stand you two)

🦚 Vil detests getting messy, so it could appear that he would be absolutely against long make out session,

🦚 oh, how wrong you were,

🦚  Vil knows what he’s doing and he absolutely adores long kisses. You could spend half of the day in Pomefiore chambers sitting on his lap and gently twirling strands of Vil’s hair on your fingers, while he would be gently pressing his warm, soft lips to your skin, making sure he doesn’t leave any marks,

🦚  you’re literally the only couple who doesn’t get messy and still has a perfect hairstyles and make-up after long hours of kissing. 

🦚 well, practice makes perfect, right? You and Vil were diligent enough to master that technique after spending long hours practicing,

🦚 Vil’s kisses are soft and they last for long. He makes sure he doesn’t bite you or leave any marks on you. You often taste each other’s lipstick and try to guess the flavour, 

,,Was that peachy lipstick?” “Try again darling” “Cherry?” “You’re so bad at this Y/N, maybe I should start referring to you as potato if you don’t get it right this time, hmm?”

🦚 you don’t mind Vil calling you potato again, you just want to continue kissing his lips,

🦚 slowly drags his hand down your back and it gives you shivers, before his glossy lips gently captures you. He’s very sensual yet soft at the same time, making you melt in his kisses,

🦚 Vil occasionally pulls away, breathing compliments and praising you,

,,You’re absolutely dazzling, darling”

🦚  when you are in public Vil loves holding your hand and rub it with his thumb, tracing gentle circles while he leans in for a brief kiss,

🦚 you are always watched by Rook who coos at how cute you both are,

,,Oh, Roi de Poison et le petit lapin~~~~Quel beau couple vous faites~~”

💀 someone please help this poor, unfortunate soul. He has no clue what he’s doing and even anime can’t save him at this point,

💀  he’s so nervous and frustrated at the mere mention of you wanting to shower him with kisses. So you take it slow,

💀 while kissing you, Idia often has to stop, so his brain can proceed the fact that he’s actually kissing you. He often can’t believe it and you always giggle when he does that,

💀 awkwardly places his hands on you shoulders, closes his eyes really tight and leans it…it’s a mess, he may bite your tongue accidentally, but don’t worry, when he gets the hang of it….

💀 his sharp teeth are going to start playfully biting your lips, nibbling on your skin and generally leaving marks whenever you two are in his room, of course,

💀 Idia doesn’t like sharing kisses and holding hands in public. He’s always embarrassed and he prefers keeping your relationship as private as he can,

🐲 when you two started dating, Malleus would always ask for your permission before his soft lips gently crashed on yours,

,,May I kiss you, dearest Y/N?”

🐲 you always giggle, before shyly nodding,

🐲 kisses with Malleus are always meaningful and intimate. With each kiss Malleus wants to express his undying and eternal love to you,

🐲 he takes his time, carefully dotting on your skin, leaving a trail of gentle kisses. Malleus doesn’t mind if you play with strands of his long, silky hair while you sit on his lap and he presses his lips against yours,

🐲 Malleus loves holding your cheek and staring in your beautiful eyes for a moment before his cold lips are met with yours. He holds you if you were the most fragile person in whole universe,

🐲 often kisses your forehead or hands, which always make you a bit frustrated,

🐲 every single kiss is so special and meaningful to him. Malleus is quite touch-starved and he is more than eager to shower you with affection. Quite frankly, he will remember every single kiss you two had shared,

🐲 prefers to kiss you passionately in his room or in the safety of Diasomnia dorm’s walls (even if it means hearing Lilia nonstop cooing how adorable you both are)

,,Oh, great lizard! You’re finally in love, you’ve grown up so much”

🦇 this self-proclaimed father of Diasomnia knows exactly what he’s doing and there’s no denying,

🦇 Lilia loves teasing you. His sharp fangs are grazing over your lips in ghost like kiss before harshly biting down, drawing crimson droplets. He adores licking off your blood from you while he gently presses his warm lips against yours,

🦇 you soon begin to associate the pain of his bite with pleasure,

🦇 Lilia often buries his head in your neck, leaving a trail of bloody marks. Don’t worry, he will make sure no crimson droplets of yours will be wasted. He licks the bites and violet, reddish marks he had left, so supposedly they could heal better,

🦇 his tongue often brushes over your lips few times, before actually kissing you passionately,

🦇 Lilia has no shame, absolutely no shame,

🦇 he doesn’t mind appearing suddenly, hanging upside down from the ceiling and roughly pressing his lips against yours in reverse kiss (spiderman style kiss) while literally half of the canteen is looking,

🦇 he’s the best kisser ever

🦇 Silver will never, ever, get used to seeing this old man kissing you and being affectionate/touchy with you

,,Could you both…hmm… NOT?!” “But not what?”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst wonderland #twst writing #malleus draconia #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #riddle rosehearts #idia shroud #kalim al asim #azul ashengrotto #lilia vanrouge #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland writing #malleus x reader #azul x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #twisted wonderland vil x reader #vil x reader #idia x reader #lilia x reader #twst malleus #twst azul #twst kalim #twst riddle #twst vil #twst lilia

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - The aloof Bombay & wounded Border Collie

Summary: They say you are what you are in the dark. So you prove just who you are when there's only you and Frederick in a dark house, with no one else around. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Angst with a happy ending] & [Mild panic attack]

So, first thing first, a little backstory about this oneshot. I had already written out the first scene a week before Redacted announced the discontinuation of Frederick & Bright Eyes series. Although he mentioned that it’s fine to continue on writing headcanons about the two, I was hesitant to continue writing this fic. 

But I’ve been missing them terribly so I sat my ass down and finally completed it! Yay! Fred & Bright Eyes had one of the most interesting dynamics in this fandom so I wanted to give it a go based on my headcanons of them. 

-

There's a strange sort of energy hovering around Vincent and Sam lately. 

It's not subtle either. Its anxiety, stress and uncertainty all roll together into a heavily dense fog that makes you itches under the skin. 

This has been going on for days now. 

Vincent constantly has thick textbooks with him whenever he comes over to Sam's place. They would exchange short pleasantries before Sam hurried off to his Werewolf beau (it's sort of funny the first time Sam returns home, and you spotted courses of wolf's hair stuck onto the hem of his clothes and jeans. You figured that this man's main hobby was tussling with Wolves, but when Sam would sneak back into his own fucking house like a teenager, it wasn't hard to put two-and-two together). Vincent would then make sure that you and Frederick are fed, settled in for the night before he completely ignores the two of you in favour of his school work. 

As if the two of you are a pair to toddlers. You'd laugh if it didn't annoy you. 

Fred, ever the gentle sweetheart, attempted to make small talks at first. Tentatively asking if he's stressed out over exams and if there's anything he could do to help - the result was expected. With pen in hand, notebooks and the two hundred and one pages depicting the foundations of magical healing, Vincent rather absentmindedly shooed him away. 

Sam is arguably the worst. Ever since he stepped outside of the house during their crash course of the Empowered creatures in Dahlia to answer a phone call, he returns with lines on his forehead and shoulders tensed as hell. 

Their impromptu lesson ended just like that when another Clan member had to babysit the two of you after Sam stormed out of the house. 

You don't know whether they realise how taunt their strings have been, and you don't really care, honestly. Just curious; you're pretty confident that something big will happen soon. 

At least there's something exciting to look forward to other than Sam's disapproving frowns and Fred's frustrated attempts at making you bear your heart and guts out. 

And something big will happen soon. Apparently, there's something equivalent to a magical Olympics that occurs every year called the Elemental & Energetic Games, and this year, the local supernatural academy would be the one hosting it in Dahlia. Interesting. 

Speaking of which, you could hear Vincent talking to his lover outside your bedroom through his phone. "Sam's on the way... yeah, he just texted me." A short pause. "Yeah, I can do that. Hey, hey, Lovely - listen to me. Everything's going to be alright. You've been practising non-stop for the Games. You deserve a special night for a change. So here's what we're going to do: I'll pick up some of that blueberry pie you love so much on the way back, we'll watch some movies after dinner and then have an early night so you'll feel better tomorrow. Sounds good? Nice. Oh wait - I think I can hear Sam outside. See you in a little bit. Love you too, Lovely." 

You tune the outside world after that. It makes sense now why Vincent was stressed out; he's busy playing the good boyfriend. 

With a tired sigh, you try your best to occupy your mind. It's three hours to midnight, but to Vampires, that's practically early morning, and you're already so bored. You don't want to step out of your little sanctuary if it means having to deal with Sam, Vincent and Fred tonight. 

Or ever. Forever sounds good. 

Not knowing what else to do, you pushed yourself out of bed and padded towards the window sill. The cool night air greets you as well as the trees and shadows that stretch on for miles. Once you and Fred were officially brought under Sam's care as his Progenies, you quickly realise that his house is located on the outskirts of Dahlia. Where the forests sprawl behind the abode and the city lights are just far enough not to pollute the night sky. 

A perfect place to raise a pair of unplanned Newborn Vampires. You conclude that either Sam enjoys living by himself in a secluded property or that this house was given to him by Mr. Solaire. 

Either way, you would've love to sneak out and explore the forest if it weren't for the magical wards that Sam had warned the two of you. The moment you or Fred steps out of the immediate area, Sam would know right away that one of them disobeyed his rules. 

So despite the pleasant night air, there's a strum of anxiety and restlessness stirring within you. Is it because of Sam's recent behaviours or the upcoming Games? You can't tell, not when no one is bothered enough to tell you what's going on. 

You take a deep breath and take your sweet time to exhale the air out. There's no use in working yourself up; not when you just need to get through this Newborn phase. It's better to think of the future. 

And that bastard's mangled corpse at your feet. 

"You should've listened to your friend, little mouse." 

Ironically, the monster's voice is the only thing keeping you sane during this whole happy house facade that Sam and Frederick insist on playing. Late-night fantasies of ripping that smug's asshole to pieces are the only thing that keeps you going, sad as it is. 

It's not revenge; it's justice. It's your atonement for hurting Frederick. What good would apologies serve when you can present that monster's head to him? You're not deluded enough to play the victim; you're the reason why the two of you are the way you are now, but you'll be damn if you admit that to Sam. 

Sam's already blamed you for what happened to Fred. Even if he never says it. His lingering glances and furrowed brows are telling enough. There's no need to give him more ammunition against you. 

You breathe in and out again; willing yourself to calm down. So you start to distract yourself by planning to gather enough money and resources to leave the Clan once Mr. Solaire deems that you're safe to be on your own and to others. His kind smile and knowing eyes should've made you uncomfortable, but all you can feel is genuine compassion and understanding coming from that ancient Vampire King. 

So. Priorities: Passing the Newborn period, gather enough money, clothes and anything else that's important, thank Mr. Solaire for taking you into his Clan, and if it's not too presumptuous, ask him to continue to care for Fred. 

A knock on the door startles you from your train of thoughts, but you keep your gaze on the dark forest laid before you. 

You heard the door creak as it slowly swings open and then, "Bright Eyes? Is... Is everything ok?" 

It's Fred. Of course, it would be Fred. 

"Mm-hmm." You reply absentmindedly. You didn't even have to look at him to know that he doesn't believe your bullshit. And him being your Sire makes it impossible to lie to him, so you often gives out vague responses. 

Most of these days, your interactions with him are curt, with doubt thrown into the mix. Fred is hesitant to press you when you brush away his questions, and in return, you hide as often as possible so you wouldn't step on any emotional landmines in this house. 

"Are you sure? Because I can kind of sense that you're upset..." Fred said after a brief moment of hesitation. Ah, it's going to be one of those nights. 

The bond between a Sire and his Progeny once again proves to be a fucking nuisance. Not only could you not lie to Fred, but he could also sense phantom emotions coming from you. So much for privacy. 

"It's fine, Fred. I was just thinking." There. Not a lie but not the total truth either. 

"O-Oh." From the doorway, Fred bit his lower lip. Why is it getting harder and harder to approach Bright Eyes nowadays? He hates this distance between them. He hates how they rarely left their room. 

He hates how it feels like he's losing his friend as the days go by. 

"Do you, uh, maybe want to play a game or something? Vincent hooked up a Playstation 5 before he left. I think he also left some video games - "

"I'm not in the mood to play tonight, Fred. Maybe tomorrow." 

Fred sighs at the clear dismissal. It honestly hurt; Bright Eyes constant rebuff is getting sharper and sharper. Without another word, Fred left Bright Eyes to their thoughts. 

As usual, nothing is absolved tonight. 

-

It's a boring rainy Wednesday night. The gentle pitter-patter of raindrops against the shutters promises an incoming storm when you hear the sound of rumbling thunders approaching the city from a distance. 

Tonight, Vincent is too busy at D.A.M.N to babysit you and Fred. Sam already left the house an hour after the sun had set with his usual instructions not to go beyond the wards and that a Clan member would be coming over to supervise them. 

Why does this feel like you and Fred are the unwanted children from a divorced couple? Oh well, all the more reason to leave the clan ASAP. 

You plan to brood in your room as usual after draining your share of the blood bags in the fridge. However, the moment you take three steps out of the kitchen, lightning flashes across the sky. 

The power trip, hurtling the entire house into total darkness. 

"The circuit breaker," You murmur, inhumane eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness as you look around the area in 4K HD. "Did Sam ever mentioned where it was?" You tried to recall the house's layout from Sam's words alone, but you tend to tune out his voice whenever he speaks more than twenty minutes. So it looks like you better start from the basement.  

Just when you're about to head downstairs, a whimper froze you. You tilt your head towards one of the bedrooms. 

The sound is coming from Fred's. 

You stood your ground for only a few seconds of hesitation before you quietly approached his bedroom and slowly opened the door as to not startle him — concern creeping into your heart. 

Just like the rest of the house, Fred's bedroom is completely dark. Lightning flashed once more to illuminate Fred's huddled figure on the floor near the window. He's breathing very hard and rapidly with his head in between his knees. 

Your heart twisted into a knot at the sight of a frightened Fred, and you couldn't help but wonder if this is how he looked like when that monster hurt him. 

You forcefully put that thought away. You're horrible with words, but there's one way you can still comfort him. 

Fred's breath hitches when your back lean against his. "B-Bright Eyes?" He calls out with a choked sob, head slightly raised in surprise. 

When you said nothing, Fred let out a ragged sigh. "What are you doing here? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me." 

You blink and turn your head to give him a side-eye. Say what? 

"Don't give me that l-look." Fred snaps after a sniffle. "You could hardly look at my face lately, and you only leave your bedroom whenever you have to eat. If it weren't for that, you'd happily pretend that Sam and I don't even exist." 

"That's because whenever I'm around, you keep wanting to talk about Wonderworld, and Sam keeps shooting me looks as if I'm a shitstain underneath his fucking boots." You shoot back reflexively. 

Much to the surprise of absolutely no one, your words upset Fred even further. "You can't talk about Sam like that! He's been nothing but kind to us. To you and you just - "

"He blames me for what happened to you!" Fred can't be this oblivious, can he?

Behind you, Fred went stiff.

"You're his Progeny, and I'm the deadweight that he's stuck with because you Turned me. He knows it, Vincent knows it. Fuck it, everyone in the Clan knows it! So why should I give a damn when I'm unwanted? And that's alright! That's totally alright! You want to know why that's alright, Freddy?" Lightning split the night sky. A rather powerful thunder shakes the house, but at this moment, nothing exists except for you, Fred and the tension that has been brewing between the two of you the moment your humanities were forfeit.  

"I'm not planning to stay here any longer than I have to! The moment Mr. Solaire give us the green light, I'm out of Dahlia! Buh-bye! You and Sam can do whatever the fuck you want, but I don't want to stay in this city any longer! I don't have anything left here!" 

Silence enveloped the bedroom. What are you even doing here? Why did you even think you could comfort Fred when all you've been doing is hurting him. Even now! This was a mistake. You should've - 

"I was right. I'm losing you too..." 

"Uh, what?" 

Fred tucks his head in between legs tighter as if he's trying to hide from the world. "I think I always knew that you were going to leave me when you started to pull away from everyone. That's why I wanted us to talk about that Halloween night so badly." His voice is ragged, tears stream down his face. "Y-You said that you don't have anything left in Dahlia, but... you're all that I have left and if you leave... I..." Fred sighed and quietly continued, "I thought I was your friend. I thought I meant something to you." 

"I've hurt you." You reply, just as quietly. "I've been hurting you since Wonderworld, and even tonight, I'm hurting you. I didn't listen to you that night, and because of it, we're here. You lost your family, friends and future and for that I'm... I'm so sorry, Fred. You didn't deserve anything that happened to you." 

"Thank you, Bright Eyes. I-I needed to hear that." Fred reply. When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it back. "What happened was... fucked up, but none of us knew about that Vampire. Or that Vampires actually exist. So it's stupid of me to blame you for our d-deaths." 

"But I didn't listen - "

"Yes, you didn't listen but will you listen to what I have to say now, Bright Eyes? Please? I want us to move on from this together. I want us to be better." 

Perhaps it's how raw and near begging Fred sounds that both of your walls are down tonight. Perhaps, tonight, you finally realise that it's you that doesn't like confrontations and that despite Fred's gentle and reserved nature, he has no problem mending the wounds between the two of you with force if he has to. Huh, who could've thought? 

The two of you talk for hours in the darkness. It feels so awkward to bear your heart to Fred after everything, but to your immense surprise and relief, he listens to you patiently, and once you're done, he let you into his heart. All the fears, insecurities, regrets, shame and horror are laid between you and together, you address them one by one until the storm lets up. 

And when the silver light of the moon peeking through heavy clouds, you found yourself snuggling with Fred on his bed. Your head tucks into the crook of his neck while Fred's arm is around you. It's strange how lighter your heart is now. 

"Have you stop crying already?" You ask, wondering if you'd need to run to the kitchen to make a simple bag of ice for Fred's red, puffy eyes before they swelled. 

Fred snort. He sniffles and squeezes your body in assurance. Being slightly taller than you, it feels sort of nice to be held like this. Despite their heartfelt conversation and confessions, the trauma they both carry is still fresh, but now, it doesn't feel like an overwhelming miasma threatening to drown you in guilt and sorrow. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright now. It feels good to finally cry after... after everything." 

"Can't relate." You bluntly interject. "I usually get pissed off after a crying session." 

"I can actually believe that." Fred giggles. "I'm beginning to understand you a lot better, Bright Eyes. Thank you for listening; I know that words are hard for you, so I'm very grateful that you want to work things out as much as I do." 

"Mn." 

Outside, the rain has become a gentle drizzle, and the stars ushered a bright full moon. It's too lovely of a night to brood; you might as well take a nap with Fred. 

"Bright Eyes?" Fred suddenly speaks up, bringing you out of your sleepy haze. 

"Mn?" 

"Do you... I mean... are you still planning to leave Dahlia?" His voice returns to its timid and hesitant state. 

"Well... yeah. After our - urgh - mushy talk, I realise it's all the more reason I need to do it. You're the only thing I have left in this city after all." 

"You want to leave me despite just saying that all you have is me? Uh, I don't... don't get it. Can you please explain it to me, Bright Eyes?" 

You hold back a groan. It looks like Fred has discovered the magic of 'please' and your weakness to it. "I'm planning to kill the Vampire who killed us and use his skull as my apology gift to you." 

Unlike you, Fred groans in disbelieve. You yelp when he manoeuvres you so your body can lie on top of his and trap you in his arms. "No... Bright Eyes, no... no hunting that asshole, OK? You don't need to give me a skull; just stay here with me. Skulls are gross anyway." He whines like a needy toddler, which, surprisingly, makes you feel fond instead of irritated. 

So you roll your eyes and press your face into Fred's chest. Perhaps you can try to convince Fred to leave with you in the future, but for now, nothing matters but the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the faint scent of wet grass outside. 

They're going to be alright. 

#redacted asmr #fanfic #second pov #they/them pronouns #bright eyes (listener) #frederick #vincent solaire #sam collins #will is mentioned

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

massaging them , bandaging injury in healer draco / auror Harry one shot please thank you ❤️

This one is new!! Btw sorry for delaying it. Here ya go, hope you like it. @flakeyakey

Single healers

" come on, get him in here" although it was deafening. He was probably losing his senses, his eyes opening and closing, blurring his vision. He couldn't really see the speaker but unconsciously sensed the urgency in their voice.

" and you're sure he wasn't bitten ?" The same voice asked again. Harry tried very hard to open his eyes and see who it was, but exhaustion was pulling him under and he was ready to sleep. Long sleep.

His breath was cutting short, his vision blackening, he was relaxed finally until someone started to lightly pat his cheeks.

" keep breathing, potter... Don't you dare give up right now " and that was the last thing he heard, only getting a slight peek of someone oddly familiar and with a nod, harry closed his eyes.

It was really exhausting to be where harry was right now but all he did really felt was the uncomfortable pillow, hurting his neck. In attempts to fix his pillow, he tried to move his arm until he realised they weren't exactly in a spectacular shape and he grimaced with pain.

" welcome back sweetie" he heard a sweet voice. Okay, there isn't any woman at Harry's home, so he opened his eyes.

" ouch " harry immediately shielded his eyes because of the intense light

" shut that light Karen, it's hurting his visuals" Someone said as they must've shut the door behind him.

Once the light was turned off, harry relaxed and opened his eyes again.

" wow, this is definitely not home " harry groaned

" well not if your home is a hospital potter" the guy in the white coat said. Harry couldn't see whoever it was, mostly because his back was turned to harry but also because he was very much leaned over onto the table that you couldn't see anything but his white coat, his black pants and nice black shoes, shining, and if harry wasn't wrong they were vintage, oh!!

" so how do you feel ?" The guy finally turned around

" I knew it, only you say my name that way " harry fisted his palm in a small victory.

"yeah, yeah very great achievement potter, now how do you feel ?" He asked

" well, for one, I can't feel my ass because of this bed, second, my arm is really sore, third my pillow isn't put right so it definitely is craning my neck too much that it hurts. And lastly my question how did I wound up here ?" Harry goes

" Karen please do the honours of adjusting thy majesty's pillow or he'd cry over it" the other man said as he poured some liquid carefull in a vial.

" now, to answer your question, I am not even slightly interested in how you wound up here, all I know is that you are here and I have to take care of you. Next, the beds are a bit uncomfortable, you'll get used to it in a bit and if not, I'll cast a cushioning spell and lastly, can you tell me exactly where your arm feels most sore ? And do the honours of actually telling me how you feel ?" He said as he walked towards harry, analysing the morning reports he received.

" still keeping the I am a prat attitude Malfoy, suits you " harry rolled his eyes, pointing above his elbow on the dorsal side.

" well the sodding insolent prat attitude suits you too potter " draco rolled his eyes as he lightly dabbed Harry's arm recieving a flinch.

" there's no such external injury here so I think that's a bruise. Think massage would do it " draco frowned to himself

" I feel a little dizzy by the way. Also there's a portion on my neck that is itching quite badly, can I scratch ?" Harry asked innocently.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows before helping harry sit upright and taking a look at the point of his itch.

" those are deep scratches. So no you can't scratch Over. Karen I thought all wounds were cleaned up "

" I did. It must've been because it's on his back I might've missed it. I'm sorry " she hurriedly Apologized

" that wouldn't really qualify you as a healer would It, now, next time don't make the same mistakes. Ms. Adelman across the room needs you by the way " draco said as he dipped some cotton in antiseptic potion and cleansed Harry's wound.

" it's burns ? " Draco asked

" a little " harry grimaced.

" I think you got that from the werewolf " draco whispered as he carefully studied for any bites.

" when will I be free ?" Harry asked impatiently.

" well at this pace not for another two weeks" draco replied as he pushed down his reading glasses and kept the files over the side table.

" no way. I'm not staying for 2 weeks. That's 14 days off work, I can't do that. I'm in the Middle of an important case and-"

" okay save it potter. You have to stay for 2 weeks and it ends there. Your friend Weasley will come by and explain you everything but under my watch, even if you're free you're not allowed to work"

" and who gives you the right?" Harry rolled his eyes frustratingly

" me. As your healer, it is my responsibility to make sure that you only resume when you're wounds are all healed up " draco huffed, annoyed by Harry's childish behaviour to just break free.

" and you think I'd listen to you ?" Harry narrowed his eyes in a glare at Draco.

Draco clenched his jaw before closing his eyes and continuing speaking " you are not going anywhere and that is it, you get me! And if you do try to get away, I will tie you up with shackles without a wand. Now if you're a chain eater or something like that then you'd be successful to break free otherwise not "

" whatever " harry rolled his eyes, again. If draco had one pet peeve, it was people rolling their eyes necessarily on his face and potter seemed to have a death wish.

" look " draco pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed " you don't understand the severity of your injuries. I understand your passion for work and all but not at the risk of health. If you must know you were attacked by a werewolf, the problem however is that we're not sure if you were bitten or not.. it might've been someone who bit you before full moon, basically not a werewolf then but there is a possibility that you're not bitten, the more likely one -"

" but if there's a bite, you should be able to see right ?"

" yes and no. The evolution of werewolves is allowing them to leave very little traces of bites these days which of course does not benefit them nor potentially harm the one bitten. The real reason why we can't figure whether you're bitten or not is because your back Is covered in scratches and if you can't feel them it's because of the numbing potion. And we're done talking. Drink this up quietly"

Harry looked at Draco strangely for a moment before taking the vial from his hand and bottomed up " can I work from here ?"

" no " and draco walked out.

And then it became a thing, harry constantly asking if he could work and draco constantly denying and threatening him that this time he'd definitely put him in shackles. And by the by, interactions between them did get pretty interesting every once in a while when Draco used to check him up late at night before leaving from work.

And one of these days harry shoot his shot "you pretty much always leave late, come early and stay here all day, so I should by now just assume that you're single "

" not that it's any of your business potter " draco absent-mindedly replied as he changed the bandages on Harry's back.

" ha- you didn't deny it. So you are single " harry exclaimed

" sit still "

" sorry "

" why do you care if I date or not ? My personal life Potter " draco said as he changed the bandages on the bottom right of Harry's back, amused for a moment of what he saw something going under his pants. It seemed like a mark, he didn't question it.

"I don't. Just curious " harry shrugged.

" well dearest curious George, I must assume that you're single too since nobody special visited you " draco said as he got up and lightly massaged Harry's sore arm from before. Harry relaxed in his touch before he continued the conversation

" I don't do Dating. Even if I do date someone, it's never about us or the dating in itself, it's just mostly to get into witch weekly or daily prophet under the chosen one's new beau sort of thing "

Draco almost pitied harry for never having found something but decided not to, since he obviously didn't need the pity.

"that sucks " draco hummed " does it hurt still ?" He pressed a little more firmly over the spot

" not much anymore " harry replied " what's your not dating excuse ?"

Draco etched a small smile especially for harry before he told him the truth " it's a bitter world for me out there. I think it's the same as you, you know just the opposite end. It's almost as if i- I'm still a death Eater and people still hate me for that "

Harry pressed his lips in a thin line, never having thought of it. He always thought it must've been easy for Draco to find Someone, with being attractive and working somewhere you're basically helping people all day but it came as a mild shock as it was opposite.

" whoever ends up with would be one lucky person though " harry complimented just in time draco stopped massaging and picked up the vials to give to harry.

" really ? What makes you say that ?" Draco smiled

" because I know you'd do anything to keep that person in your life no matter the cost. And I've seen the good in you, you're not all bad " and with that harry gulped the vial, missing out draco's blushing.

" I think whoever ends up with you would be a lucky one too then " draco said as he finished up aligning the empty vial bottles on a tray to take them away.

" and why's that ?" Harry smiled

" because- it's just you. You're different and you're nice.. think you'd always keep them happy and safe if it were your life on stake. That's just you " draco complimented smiling at harry.

Not as capable as draco, harry turned pink from the compliment " that's nice of you "

Draco should not have been mesmerized but unfortunately he was and it should've been a mistake, but he liked it. And he knew harry enjoyed gazing at him too but the moment Only lasted so long and draco broke free before he could've lost control.

" I should go. Goodnight. Take care " and he left the room.

The next morning draco returned to his room, the first thing he saw was an empty bed until he harry walked in, shirtless.

" y- you can walk " draco said

" yeah. I can " harry smiled.

Gaining his composure back, Draco resumed " and you cleaned up nice, with all the Shaving "

" I figured I'll be leaving in 3 days so better get used to it again " harry replied

Draco stared at harry dumb folded " oh, right, yeah, 3 days "

" so " draco pouted " does it hurt anywhere? Need of change in bandages ? Or anything else?"

" no, I think I'm fine " harry placed his hand over his hips, frowning.

" well, alright then. I'll be going. I'll be checking in on you at the end of the day like a normal healer. Goodbye potter " and he practically ran before his heart might've fell out of his chest, metaphorically ofcourse.

The rest of the day draco got so busy that when the night came, he couldn't visit harry again even if he desperately wanted to but he was so exhausted that he could Barely walk and so by the recommendation of the work counsellor, he got sent off.

The first he did next day was visit harry, who to his surprise was sleeping. So like a normal healer, he checked his bottled of vial, his normal medicines and the bruises and left. When the night came, harry was swamped with his friends that draco couldn't had stayed for more than professional purpose. The next day again when he visited harry, he was tiredly sleeping. Defeated, draco worked all day until again at the end of the night he visited harry to see him sitting with all the files.

" working?" Draco asked as he place his files over the side table and started checking Harry's injuries, which were now almost healed.

" yeah. Filling in for what I missed while being here " harry sighed.

Draco scrunched his eyebrows looking at Harry he retrieved his hands and asked him " do you really enjoy your work though? Like putting your life on line and working immensely over something so exhausting ?"

" do you enjoy your work ?" Harry huffed

" I do. I very much do. It's tiring sometimes yes but I like what I do. It makes me feel nice About myself. Is it the same for you ?"

Harry huffed pushing away the files before Pouring our reality " to tell you the truth, I don't enjoy work. It was all fun in the beginning, the chase and run but now it just seems as if that's all I've been doing my whole life. Running after the bad guys but then that's exactly what everyone expects of me and I can't let them down. So I do exactly what I've been doing, the right thing "

Draco amusingly watched him, as if it was fun story, only it wasn't " my mom always used to say, much before anyone else's you're your own. There's no point in living your life the way people expects. I think they must've have had enough of that already. There's nothing new in the potter magazine you know, the chosen one after the bad guy. Life's too short for the same title harry "

" hey, you called me harry " harry pointed out grinning

" don't I deserve to at least call you by your name after taking care of your lame ass for 2 weeks " draco chuckled.

Harry chuckled " you deserve it, draco "

And draco smiled.

The next morning when harry was finally ready to depart with no ill effects or presence of lycanthropy, he waited until he see'd off draco..

" and I thought I'd almost miss your departure " draco heaved, breathing in harshly..

" nah, I wouldn't had let that happen " harry chuckled..

When Draco finally had his air back he leaned upright looking at harry " it was nice having you here "

" it was nice being here " harry smiled

" so, I guess, I'll see you around then ?" Draco asked awkwardly.

" right, yeah, of course " harry rambled.

" cool then " draco pressed his lips in a thin line, pushing his hands in his coat pocket.

" alright then. Bye " harry hesitated

" oh. Yeah..bye. see you again probably " draco replied

" yeah, might. Bye then "

" bye " and then finally harry stepped back one by one until he reached the door handle and turned around to walk out.

" fuck it " harry whispered under his breath and walked back to draco

" something wrong ?" Draco asked

" you. I don't care how stupid I might sound, but I like you, like I really really like you and I haven't felt his way for someone in a long time and I don't want to blow this away. So draco malfoy would you maybe want to go out with me someday even if I'm a complete insolent prat-"

" okay, yeah "draco grinned

" and I've got attitude problem and you possibly don't feel the same- wait- you said yes?" Harry rambled

" yep. I said yes " draco chuckled.

" oh. Then I'll definitely see you. Outside leaky cauldron, at 7 "

" you definitely will " draco smiled

" okay then" harry grinned as he started walking back again.

" okay "

" okay " harry bit his lip.

" I like you too by the way " draco chuckled

" I really have to go.. but it's good to know " harry chuckled..

" okay " and then harry finally left, after dancing in victory of course.

Requests open

#drarry #harry potter #drarry incorrect quotes #draco x harry #harry james potter #hp fandom #drarry prompt #harry potter fanfiction #draco is gay #draco malfoy #requests open #requests #drarry headcanon #drarry oneshot #drarry fic rec #drarry fluff #drarry ficlet #drarry fic #drarry fandom #drarry stuff #drarry squad #drarry ship #drarry ao3 #drarry au #drarry drabbles #drarry drabble challenge #draco malfoy one shot #harry potter oneshot

[arcticwaters]

i’ve said a couple times that i have a beau meta ready and was just waiting to hear marisha’s thought on a certain topic, and now we have! i now feel more confident talking about something that i took issue with: the idea that beau only backed off from jester and gave her blessing to fjord begrudgingly as a sign of her lack of self worth and is only going for yasha because she’s better than nothing.

alright, so under the cut is that post, my thoughts overall on the idea of beau “lying” and “self sabotaging,” how her relationship with jester and yasha has changed, and how yasha just really deserves so much. keep in mind everything here is like A MONTH OLD, i wrote all this around the time ep 110 aired. frankly i don’t even know how relevant most of this even is anymore cuz i don’t pay attention to discourse BUT people are claiming once again that beau is only “settling” for yasha so, here we go. (i added in more recent thoughts regarding marisha’s answer on talks at the very end.)

the idea that beau was just downplaying her feelings for jester to fjord like “haha no prob bro! totally over that pffft you’re in the clear” makes me super uncomfortable?? i get it would be in character for beau. i get that she thinks she’s second best and jester is looking at fjord, not her, so she would push her best friends together because she loves them and she’s not Worthy. that would be a very beau move. but doing so would also be saying that she herself only sees yasha as second best to jester. that she is now only pursuing yasha because “welp, my first choice is off the table :/”

and i find that to be SO disrespectful to yasha, who cares about beau so deeply and has had feelings for her long before beau had feelings for jester. who has been through SO MUCH and deserves to have someone love her solely for her, and not just because she was there, a back up because oh-so precious jester wasn’t available. yasha, who did the thing beau wants more than anything: picked her first. like do ya’ll honestly think beau “constantly upset that she’s never anyone’s first choice” regard would turn around and treat yasha, who she knows has been through hell, exactly like that? (never mind that yasha was beau’s first choice, but okay.) because ultimately that is what that take is saying, there’s really no other way around it. no matter how much she might be spiraling, beau wouldn’t do that to her friend who’s already been through so much heartbreak. yasha deserves better than that and she is better than that.

and to be clear i’m talking specifically about the idea that beau was just choking back her still-strong feelings for jester because she realized she wasn’t good enough and she Hoped Too Much But Wasn’t Enough. so she just pushed them deep down, lied that they were gone, and secretly-tearfully stepped aside for fjord and that basically that whole ep108 talk was another example of beau self sabotaging herself ala the hag. (even claiming that because of this she is headed towards another downward spiral??) the idea that she must’ve been lying.

is it really so hard to think that maybe beau just got over jester? that she told fjord about it, not to deflect, but because she just wanted to be honest? that she can still care for jester and her wellbeing, but just no longer in a wholly romantic way? (you can know your best friend inside and out just as easily as someone you’re interested in after all.) that maybe she realized her jester crush was just not that deep? it was, in her own words after all, just a crush. she wasn’t in love.

let’s not forget that beau’s second playlist, which specifically had a song for yasha that confirmed it was a crush all along and not just a physical thing, and nothing really romantic at all for jester, was released before they did ep108. if beau really did still feel strongly for jester, strong enough that she only said she was over her because of self sabotage,,, wouldn’t there have been a song? marisha’s not dumb; that would’ve been THE time to bring up if beau’s feelings had turned from just a little crush to something stronger, just like travis and ashley did. but she didn’t. there wasn’t even a song about not being good enough for jester and needing to step side, no song about how much it hurts to secretly be in love with your friend. jester just got a platonic song. yasha got something romantic. i bring up that it came out before 108 because it shows that this is something that’s been building up. that she didn’t hear fjord’s confession and made an on the spot decision to be like “uh, my crush is gone dude go for it!”

is it possible she was just downplaying? sure. i’m not marisha, i don’t fucking know. maybe she watched jester kiss fjord’s cheek while he was revived and realized she couldn’t compete (tho even that doesn’t really line up because beau says to him in 108 that she doesn’t know if jester still likes him, she’s only guessing.) sure, we know beau lies, but at the same time, that doesn’t mean every single thing that comes out her mouth is a lie. beau spends most of the rumplecusp arc being the most open she’s been in a long time. she spent that whole evening having moments of realness with everyone, why suddenly lie now? like what, she had a deep talk with caleb, veth, and yasha and thought “you know what? time to lie to fjord about my feelings for jester that he doesn’t even know about.” fjord just bared his soul and feelings to her; it’s just as likely that she decided now is the time to be honest with him as well, to be honest with herself, because we know this is something she’s been thinking hard about for quite a while. the cast had three whole months between 99 and 100 to stew in the minds of their characters and figure out their wants and needs, but a lot of this also started before this.

stay with me here, this is gonna be a bit long. as i’ve mentioned before, i’ve been rewatching from 92 onward, focusing mostly on beau as i go and the obvious turmoil that meeting her father again left her in. and one thing i did notice is that in 96 - the episode where she’s at her most rough - she really is all over jester, that can’t be denied. she’s like, trying really hard to get her attention. but then in 97, which is only a day later, that’s gone. then the amount of attention beau gives to jester lessens over the following arc as she gives more of it to yasha. here’s the thing about 96: it’s the peak of her spiral. she hadn’t been ok since meeting her family again, and i think all of it came to a head when she met caduceus’s and saw a loving and supportive family, a sweet gentle father. i think it (along with nearly dying earlier) just set her off and she reached the peak of her regression and decided to act out and be shitty for the sake of it, and she latched on to jester because jester lives for that kind of thing. jester is the one who will say “make confused people’s lives even more confusing for the sake of a laugh? no judgement here let’s go!” it was likely easier to be like “haha yeah we’re having so much fun together heehe you’re so attractive when you validate my bad behavior ;3″ than it was to confront the shitty horrible mindset that she was in at the time and ask for help.

and then,, she’s kind of over it? when you reach a peak, the next step is coming down from it. she got out of that temple, she watched cad say goodbye to his family, she got some sleep. she calmed a bit, turned her issues inward, instead of taking it out through unnecessary mischief. and in a moment of just having some silly fun, flirted with yasha, and yasha threw that same energy back at her. yasha, not even missing a beat and cracking dumb jokes with her, calling her beautiful? that must’ve made her feel really good. then later, while she was having some alone time, she watched yasha be alone too. this woman who, just like her, carries a lot on her shoulders and feels broken and lost; who just like her, once dealt with her inner demons through self destruction, choosing to deal with her hurt through quiet music. by being gentle and soft instead of hard and loud. not that expressing your hurt through being loud is always wrong, but that it’s likely such a different thing for beau. something she’s not used to. something she might have decided she wanted to give a try.

i think this marked a turning point for her relationship with yasha. old feelings she forced herself to not think about resurfacing, a subtle reconnection to a kindred spirit, and i think it was the kick in the ass she needed to start feeling better after kamordah. (oh also?? fjord fucking dying. there’re a lot of reasons she started moving on, but i’m focusing on the shippy.) she started reaching out to yasha more from then on and into the rumblecusp arc. there’s gentle talks on the boat, there’s more beautiful harp, there’s healing hands, there’s carrying, there’s flying with owls, there’s checking in with each other after fights, there’s looks. she seemed to be realizing that she didn’t need to cling to jester, because she didn’t need to act out and fuck with people to deal with her issues. because there was yasha, growing angel wings just to catch her. she felt, in her own jumbled words, “better than she has in a long time.” she’s doing so much better than she did a month ago, and yasha made her feel that way. i don’t think we’ll ever really know what marisha meant by “so many things, but not now” but in the context of everything, it sounds like someone who is now doing a lot of thinking.

beau had a moment, within just two days of each other, where she took a solo flight with both jester and yasha that resulted in the flying poofing out midair and they plummeted and had to scramble to land without injury. only one of them left her visibly and audibly stunned, amazed, breathless, and flustered beyond belief.

i bring all of this up, i lay this all out, because if you really think about and look at how beau’s relationship with both jester and yasha evolved over the course the late 90′s and early 100′s, what’s more likely? that beau really was spending all that time still desperately pining over jester, reluctantly stepping down for the sake of fjord’s feelings? or that she simply realized just how strong her feelings for yasha had become, and always were, and they eclipsed her feelings for jester? realized that just maybe, her feelings for jester only happened because it was less scary than falling for a widow, but that she wasn’t scared anymore? (for the record, i don’t think marisha literally meant “physical body lust” when she said that. colloquially lust doesn’t always mean “just wanted sex.” i think she meant like... something that burns hot and eager but is otherwise not the same as a commitment. jester, in this particular situation, is that puppy in the window that you fall for because it’s just so cute and happy and bright and there and you want it, but you have to stop and think “do i actually want this dog or am i just charmed by the big puppy dog eyes because i just lost my other dog?” that’s how i think she meant it.) because i genuinely don’t know how people could see beau stare at yasha with a look of absolute awe while telling her “you’re incredible” and think, two episodes later, “poor thing only stepped away from jester because she felt inferior :/”

a lot of these takes i saw were written just after 108 and thus before 109 - 110, but there’s been no indication that she’s secretly jealous of fjord, or still looking at jester like that. her eyes have been firmly on yasha and she looks very happy for fjord and jester when anything happens between them, when previously, marisha wasn’t shy about pouting a little whenever jester looked at someone else, just like liam does.

beau is not falling headlong into a horrible crash that will fuck up her relationship with jester and yasha. she’s doing better than she has in a long ass time, she’s healing. she’s finding her way to the arms of someone who she not only picked first, but who picked her first too.

present day october arctic jumping in to say now: we now know that yes in some ways, beau was thinking about fjord’s feelings, but it came from a place of love. that she stepped back not because she was thinking “oh woe is me, i’ll never be good enough for jester i shouldn’t even try :(” but rather “hey you know what? i love both of these people dearly and if they would be happy together, i’d be happy for them.” (and that trying to be with jester wasn’t even as important to her as just being there for jester.) and that her picking yasha is not a sign that she is slipping more into a dark place, but the opposite: she’s come very far in her own sense of self worth and she’s allowing herself to want something, and that’s yasha, the person she’s had feelings for since like, day one.

marisha didn’t go in too deep with the question she got or give the ins and outs of beau’s feelings for jester and yasha like i’d hoped (man they love to be coy huh?) but we know this: beau did have real, legit feelings for both of them at the same time. and, yes, beau did step away from jester because she realized that jester and fjord had something going on. but she did it because, at the end of the day, she just wants jester to be happy. i didn’t get the impression from marisha that she meant this in a somber “beau thinks jester would be happier without her :c” way, but that her platonic feelings for jester were just as strong as her romantic ones, if not more so, and stepping back was something easy for her. (this wasn’t specifically said, but because marisha brought up how jester was beau’s first real female friend, i think you could argue that there may have even been some underlying “how much of this is romantic and how much is platonic? i’ve never done this before.” just a little bit.)

there was no lie. there was no moment of “oh no i’m not good enough.” she simply let go, and she did so willingly and gracefully. her feelings were real, but they really were just a crush, one that she had no problem at all just getting over, no all encumbering [romantic] love that people seemed to think. and i honestly find this to be extremely mature of her, to realize that a silly little crush was not more important than simply being there for her best friend. to say “her happiness doesn’t have to involve a romance with me and that’s ok.” this fictional character handled a crush on a friend better than i have in the past. there was no need for some grand conflict shaking them up; she just made the choice to get over feelings that, again, she had no plans to even act on.

and maybe there’s a tiny tiny flavor of “well, i wanna be with someone and yasha’s right there, so, i guess i’ll pick her” in marisha’s answer, but i really don’t think that’s the case, or at least not the only reason beau is now going after her. especially since, much of what she said was kind of just a summary of beau’s playlist, which came out all the way back around ep103-ish. the idea that beau is slowly coming out the haze of self loathing and realizing she wants a real lover isn’t new information. i think this was just the first time that marisha had a chance to vocalize that, and it just accidentally came out like “well, yasha’s there so” because she was juggling a couple topics at once, while at the same time seemingly wanting to limit how much she said. (i feel like both she and ashley are playing it a little bit coy because they want it all to be in character, not out.) from the hints laid out throughout the campaign and beau’s own words, it’s always been yasha, the feelings were always there, beau just wasn’t at a place where she was ready to admit that she wanted a real relationship. and both of them just had things they needed to work on.

i definitely find it telling that marisha made a point to talk about how beau wants to really be with someone after talking about how she let jester go. to me this is kind of confirmation that beau, for as much as she cared about jester, really sees yasha as someone she could truly be with. after all, if jester really was The One, wouldn’t she have fought a little more for her? wouldn’t jester be the one making beau feel things that she’s “been avoiding?” (and i think it goes without saying that this “avoiding” is the idea of being in real love.) compared to yasha, who beau tried hard to get over, but was always drawn back to, who she has always felt a kinship with. beau already took yasha off the table once, but months later still found her way back to. trying to let go of yasha was not nearly as easy for beau as letting go of jester.

beau was lonely, didn’t think she deserved love, and it’s yasha who’s making her realize how much she doesn’t like being alone. yasha is the one helping beau come out that fog of self loathing, who’s making her think maybe this is something she can really let herself have. there is no self sabotaging to be found here, just mutual healing.

wow this is so long ALL OF THIS IS JUST A LONG WINDED WAY TO SAY no beau picking yasha is not her “settling” or a sign that she is secretly trying to let go of her soulfully desperately pining for jester, because beau will never think she’s good enough. she just likes yasha and is in fact doing so much better than she has in a really long time because of yasha. because yasha is incredible.

#critical role #beauyasha #critical role meta #beauyasha: heaven is where you are

[poesparakeet-fics]

The hurt/comfort fill from the prompt votes. (Accepting submissions re: names. The prompt Olympics? But you don't really vote for the Olympics. Idk. Help.)

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series) Summary:

After the Mighty Nein are saved by some of Caleb’s most dangerous spell craft, they’re left to nurse their repeatedly self-sacrificing wizard back to health. In the end, they give him everything he asks for and more. For his own good, of course.

This one’s SFW, so the whole text is under the break. Or go read it on AO3! You have options!

The Nuclear Option

For once, the Mighty Nein were ready.

They knew what the spell could do. They’d run drills on how to use it, this hair-trigger safety net of destruction. Caleb made them practice the dry-run over and over. So when it happened for real, this time, they were ready. Unlike most of the plans the Mighty Nein concocted, this one went off without a hitch.

They were a mile underground if they were an inch. More chittering voices were flooding in from all sides. Beau and Veth were down, balanced in a still-raging Yasha’s arms as she tore herself away from battle at the sound of Caleb’s voice.

“Nein! Gather!”

With Yasha carrying the two unconscious women, they all made it to his side, grouped carefully close with Caleb at the centre, hands pressed over their ears. 

“Foris” The incantation was followed by  a moment of vacuous silence, like all the sound had been sucked out of the air. Light seemed to collect on Caleb’s skin until he was a pillar of radiance, and then–

Boom.

The sound rattled in their skulls even as they were magically sucked away from it. All the air was gone, it was hard to breath, each heartbeat could be felt in their temples. Then relief. Breathing and tumbling onto soft carpet. Jester was crying. Caduceus was doing a headcount.

“We’re good,” He pants, “we have everyone. Here, uh, I’ve just got little stuff but we can rest now.” He started to cast, and Beau’s eyes fluttered open while Yasha kissed her hair.

“Don’t use them on Caleb!” Jester cried, “Don’t forget, they’ll hurt him!”

“No, no, just these two. Someone put the wizard in a bed, get the water boiling…” He cast on Veth, too, who popped up a moment later.

Mollymauk, perhaps the most hurt out of all those who made the trip conscious, collapsed on his back on one of the hearthside furs with a pained groan. Yasha crawled over a moment later, leaving a recovering Beau to gulp from a waterskin. She laid her hands on him, and a few of his smallest injuries healed up. 

“Oh…” He groaned. “Thank you, love.”

“Might as well use them on someone.” Their eyes met in mirrored worry. 

In the meantime, Veth had crawled over to Caleb and cradled his head. The problem with turning yourself into a planar bomb was really all in the side-effects. Caleb was unconscious. His lips were blue and frost gathered at the corners of his hairline and on his lashes. Arcane sparks were still shooting along his skin, following the path of his vascular system. Any additional magic now had a decent chance of stopping his heart, or worse.

Fjord started to build a better fire and boil water. Their little safehouse had a long, wide hearth surrounded by fine fur bedrolls and fluffy pillows. One large wooden bed lined the back wall, and a kitchen table long enough to fit them all filled the far end.

A fretting Jester dragged Caleb over to the large bed closest to the hearth, hurriedly pulling his coat off. Every piece of fabric she tugged away was frozen stiff, and when she got down to the last layers she grew gentle, worried for his skin.

Veth hopped up on the bed next to them, yanking the blankets down to make room. Together they bundled him in. Veth grabbed furs from nearest the hearth and piled them on top too. 

Fjord appeared with several rubber-stoppered skins in his arms, each filled with hot water. He pulled back the blankets to place one on Caleb’s chest and arrange the others around him before tucking the wizard back in and pulling the still-sniffling Jester into his arms. 

“All here.” He murmured into her hair. “All alive.”

Caduceus sat down on the opposite edge of the bed, his hands reaching for Caleb’s underneath the covers to press icy fingers between his warm palms. Caleb’s breathing hitched into what could have been a sigh of comfort. 

The game was waiting, now. Something they were not used to, having travelled for so long with two powerful clerics. They ate, some of them bathed, and they fell into an exhausted silence.

Caduceus worked carefully, applying a balm to frostbitten fingers and toes, as well as Caleb’s nose and ears for good measure. 

Veth helped Caduceus before curling up at the foot of the bed, just like the old days.

Jester and Fjord sat next to him on the bed, her entirely in his arms, both watching and waiting. Catching their breath.

Beau lay collapsed and half-asleep by the hearth, Yasha sitting next to her with one big hand slowly, rhythmically rubbing her back.

Mollymauk crawled under the covers with Caleb, fresh from a steaming bath with all of his already-plentiful infernal body heat. It earned them their first real sign of stirring when he tugged Caleb into his arms and the man mumbled in unintelligible Zemnian through a relieved sigh.

The little sound was enough to make them all look up. Something about it broke the heavy, cold feeling of waiting, and let the rush of relief that they’d all made it and they were all alive pour through.

Caduceus made tea. 

Veth started to snore.

Jester wiped her eyes and crawled out of Fjord’s lap to take a bath. Then she put her warm self on Caleb’s other side, Fjord budging up behind her.

Yasha lay down next to Beau, letting the monk wrap around her while she pulled the furs across them both with a sigh.

Molly shivered for a bit in the burrowing embrace of a frozen, half-dead wizard before Caleb’s skin temperature evened out, as did everyone’s breathing. They slept.

The bed wasn’t actually big enough for four people, was the thing. It’s what led to Fjord rolling out of bed in the morning with a groan, one hand moving to support his back as he hobbled over to the dining table where tea and toast was starting to make an appearance. Jester followed, a healing word passing between them with a chuckle.

Mollymauk woke at the commotion and witnessed the fluttering of bright blue eyes from the wizard drooling on his chest. It took a second for Caleb’s eyes to focus, his gaze meeting Molly’s..

“Hello!” Molly murmured quietly. 

“Hi.” Caleb returned, face twisting into a grimace the second he tried to move.

Molly supported him by the shoulders to help him get comfortable. He moved like a rusted Golem, every joint and muscle pulling a groan or whimper from deep in his chest. They finally got him onto his back, Molly helping him prop himself up with pillows.

“Did it work?” Caleb rasped.

Molly gave an irritated sigh. “Yes, your bloody martyr spell worked.” Then his face softened a little. “Thank-you.”

…

The point of the teleportation bomb was to let them escape, alive, while leaving a firestorm of damage in their wake. It had worked perfectly, no matter Molly’s bitching about Caleb’s ‘martyr complex’. He was alive, so if he was a martyr he was a bad one.

The spell was… unpleasant, for the caster. It collected every little bit of latent energy, most particularly heat, and used it to ignite an explosive force. He wondered if they could go back and see what damage they’d done to the caves. The aberrations there certainly hadn’t survived, but he was curious to know if the cavern did. Even if the Nein didn’t want to, Essek might help him check.

Caduceus had a theory that the Bomb spell also collected chemical energy, meaning it sapped all of Caleb’s body’s resources. It was his explanation for why every muscle ached afterward. It was also, Caleb suspected, a convenient excuse to force food on him. Which would happen momentarily, from the smell of Caduceus’ soup on the hearth.

In the meantime he was propped up on pillows, eyes closed with his head rocked back in ecstasy. His lips parted with a small groan. Fine-boned tiefling fingers held his hand, thumbs rubbing firmly at the small muscles and tendons from fingertip to wrist. The smaller muscles were always the most painful, and his fingers had suffered the cold as well. The massage ached and tingled, but the flood of endorphins that came from the relief provided drowned any unpleasantness out nicely.

“Does it hurt?” Molly asked.

“Yes.” Caleb sighed.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

Molly chuckled, crawling over him to take his other hand and start the process over again. A kindness. If his hands worked he could read, write. Entertain himself for the few more hours that the magic was still battering his system, before Cad and Jester could heal him up safely.

Jester appeared at the foot of the bed with a pounce and a bounce.

“Oh, poor Caleb! Here, let me he– Hey!“

Caleb’s eyes shot open, his legs bending to snatch his feet away from Jester’s clutches. 

“Nein– absolutely not–”

“But you’re letting Molly help!” Jester whined.

“I assure you I wouldn’t trust him there either.” 

“But whyyyyy?”

Caleb’s face broke into an exasperated smile. “Because I am not fool enough to let a tiefling handle my feet–”

“Rude!”

“Fine then, how about ‘because I have long term memory’ and ‘I occasionally learn from past mistakes and experiences’, hmm?”

“Humph. Still rude.”

“Or…” Fjord walked up to join them, bearing soup for Caleb. He delivered it before turning around and swinging Jester up into his arms. “Completely reasonable and good thinking. He’s still hurt. You can tickle him after he’s better.”

Fjord carried a giggling and protesting Jester over to the table for dinner. If Caleb had the strength, he would have tossed a pillow at their backs. 

Drinking the soup was a lot like the massage. He had it from one of Caduceus’ huge earthen teacups, so warm that it scalded his hands a little. The liquid itself felt molten, like it was cutting through his frozen insides. It hurt a little, but the near-instant relief from the bone-deep chill of the spell’s after effects made him savor it. 

Molly’s hands– also hot against too-cold skin– started to work on the larger muscles at his shoulders as he drank, planting the occasional kiss on top of Caleb’s head. Once the soup was done and the world started to haze in the warm, bright way it only did around the Nein, Caleb gave up the cup to Caduceus and burrowed into Molly’s arms once more.

The tiefling shivered. “It really is upsetting that you’re still so cold. Like you’re dead and we just haven’t noticed yet.”

“It fades when the arcane disturbance does.” Caleb mumbled into his chest before shifting to hide a coy smile in Molly’s shirt. “Would a corpse do this?”

Admittedly icy fingers, now functioning for all of Molly’s hard work, started to spider-climb up Molly’s side.

“Ha! Heh. You do realize– hehe– that your tickle immunity ends the sehehecond someone can lay a heal on you?”

“Mhmm.” Caleb mumbled, his eyes closed in an entirely false show of angelic sleep while his fingers kept teasing Molly under the covers, “sounds like I better enjoy it while I can, ja?”

Molly still wasn’t quite laughing, just breathless and twitchy, still holding Caleb in his arms. “Oh me oh my, your future self is gonna– heh!– regret this grave you’re digging, dear.”

“If he had a ticklish tiefling who couldn’t retaliate, I think he’d do the same.”

“Heh– haha! Has it been so long? Are ya just aching to be tickled out of your keeheeheen little mind that bad?”

Caleb just gave him a smug little smile and tweaked his hips. The human man’s fingers started to slip and slow as his exhaustion took over, and soon he was asleep with his face buried in Molly’s chest once more.

He woke up pressed between two tieflings. It felt a bit like being wrapped in a sauna. He was drooling on Molly’s chest again, with Jester’s softness pressed against his back. Was he overheating? He sat up, pushing the many layers of blankets and furs away. The air felt refreshing, cool against his skin. His muscles still ached, but his skin was still, free of the arcane sparks.

“Do you feel better, Caleb?”

He quickly realized that both tieflings were looking at him, having interrupted the conversation they’d been having quietly over his sleeping form. 

“Ja. Still sore, but the cold is gone. I think the sparks as well?” He extended his limbs to show her.

“Yeah, I think they’re gone! Here, let me take care of the rest.” 

He looked around while she cast, catching sight of a card game over at the table that was getting a little rowdy as several bickering quips were traded between players. Caduceus was watching, looking very amused but without cards of his own. 

The Heal spell done, Caleb tested his muscles and joints. “Much better Jester, thank you.”

“So, you’re all better?”

“Ja I think–” 

Caleb cut himself off with a wince, not even making an effort to try and avoid the two-tiefling tackle that upended him. He wound up on his stomach, each leg pinned with a tiefling body while whip-quick tails took turns poking his sides and ribs.

“So, we obviously need to talk about how rude it was, when Caleb said we couldn’t be trusted!”

“Aye, that was mighty rude.”

The tails prodding at his back and ribs already had Caleb jittery. “S-so you’re going to prove me wrong, ja? By being very trustworthy and nice?”

“Sure we’ll be nice,” Molly said with a smile that was anything but, “we’re gonna give you exactly what you were askin’ for.”

One of Jester’s pointed nails circled his heel. “Can you feel that OK, Caleb? Any numbness?”

“Ha! N-no they’re fine!”

“And how about here?” Molly teased, one finger tracing an arch.

“Ah! No! I’m fhihihine, they’re fine, please!”

“We have to check them over carefully Caleb. To prove how responsible and trustworthy we are!”

“Nein!”

Then they were both tickling the balls of his feet, and Caleb’s attempts to hold it together collapsed into a mound of cackles. His upper body jackknifed and flapped, expressing the desperate squirming his pinned legs couldn’t.

At some point Molly’s tail had managed to slip up the loaner shirt Caleb was wearing (much too large) and start writhing underneath his belly like a snake. Caleb wailed like he was dying, trying to paw at the tail under his shirt without being able to roll over.

“Hey! Uh… you did heal him first, right?” Cad strolled over to them and away from the increasingly loud card game.

“Yes of course! Now we’re just making sure it worked!”

“It worked! Bitte, bitte!  Pleaheeheese!” Caleb cried through his laughter, one hand reaching out to Cad in desperation before yanking the arm back with a yelp to try and block Molly’s tail as it tried to crawl into his armpit.

Cad watched Caleb laugh for a moment, seeming thoughtful. 

“You know,” he finally spoke, directing it at the tieflings, “It’s really the toes you’ve gotta worry about, with frostbite.”

“Nein!” Caleb cried before they even started. “Mercy!”

“Ooh what a good idea Caduceus! Caleb, what about this toe, can you feel this one?”

The only answer was a squeal like a rusty door hinge and increasingly desperate laughter. The process continued with two more toes before they got bored and went to town.

Caleb was so busy burying his face in the blankets and beating his palms helplessly against the mattress that he almost didn’t notice Cad lower his large frame onto the bed beside him. He didn’t have the breath to talk, so he just mouthed “Why!?”

Caduceus chuckled, leaning in close to rumble in Caleb’s ear.

“You know I don’t approve of martyrdom.”

Then there were thick, soft, careful fingers combing Caleb’s ribs, and he was lost to hysteria. 

At some point beyond the edge of Caleb’s conscious thought, Cad called the tieflings off, citing exhaustion. At some point they pulled Caleb back under the blankets. At some point he fell back asleep to the sounds of tea, a raucous card game and quiet conversation. 

Lucky martyr.

#Critickle Role #Fic #Poes Prose #Hurt/Comfort #h/c #widomauk #The Poly Nein #All Tieflings Are Knismos #M9 #Tickle fic #TK fic

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass (Part 2)

There is a part 3 coming, I think these two deserve the...culmination, but I wasn’t sure if I could have it ready soon enough. Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy! x

Part 1   -   Part 3*

It starts with a resounding bang. A back curving over maple hardwood; taut muscle stretching soft cotton fabric; twin jades squinted in concentration; a shoulder blade protruding briefly for one swift determining movement. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange phenolic resin scattering across green worsted wool like a dozen pinballs simultaneously kicked in various directions.

It ends with the deep echo. A ball falling into emptiness before meeting rock-bottom; the release of a soft withheld breath; firm flesh unflexing with satisfaction; two sets of glossy eyes meeting in a knowing look. "Nice break, Styles. Stripes it is," y/n happily comments once Harry leans back from the pool table.

Gibson’s is full of rowdy chatters, tipsy laughs and fulsome smiles. Strangers bonding for a night of undiluted carefreeness, clicking drinks after merry drinks in honor to their new ephemeral best friends. All sorrows have been forsaken on the coat rack at the entrance,  hung in insouciance, leaving nothing but good spirits to sit at the tables and loiter near the bar. Everything about this place is warm and nurturing, a cosy embrace after a tedious day, a home for the people that lets them nurse bottles and wounds alike, and sees them leave later on, cheerful, relaxed and healing. It took but a second for Harry to understand why y/n is so fond of the place and he was not surprised to find her on a first-name basis with the barmaid, the two of them catching up on life while she was preparing the drinks.

Now, fifteen minutes in, they’ve happily made their way to the vacant timeworn pool table at a secluded corner of the bar, drinks and grins in toe. The space is only lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting daedal shadows along the walls and across the table’s carpeted surface. The subdued light and music crooning in the background make for a suggestive atmosphere, air thick with limitless curiosity and enticing promises.

The corner of Harry’s lips quirks in a wry smile and a bold glint takes residence at the crease of his eyes; the telltale sign of a burgeoning idea brewing up in his cheeky mind. "What’dya say we make this a lil more interesting?" The offer is served with a raised brow, a hand on his waist, and one foot perched on its toes over the other as he leans against the cue.

From across the pool table, y/n is quite endeared at the sight but her response comes out in fake offense,"oh I’m sorry, am I boring you already?"

"Quite the opposite actually." His head tilts the slightest bit to the side, gaze unwavering from her face in a mission for persuasion.

Her lips grimace as she tries to suppress a betraying smile to no avail, "fine, I’m listening."

He grins victoriously at her inability to keep a straight face, his limbs dislodging from his casual pose. "We take turns," his motions at the space between them. "F’we pocket, we get to ask one question. No bullshit answer, jus’ the truth." His eyes are wide as he gauges her response.

"A question, huh?" she takes her time to contemplate the proposition just to watch him squirm in impatience. "Damn, for a sec I thought you were about to suggest strip-pool." She sends him a playful look as she walks the length of the table to step closer to him and have a better look at his chiseled features.

"I mean, m’totally down but might be a bit unfair on your part," his eyes briefly trail down her body in silent conveyance of her single-piece attire. He’s got much more material to shed before exposing skin than she does.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." The suggestive retort has Harry’s stomach churn with humid passion, the question of just how many layers she’s wearing exactly, playing with the most lascivious parts of his brain. "Not that it matters, you’d be butt-naked before you’d get a nip-slip."

"Overestimating yourself?"

"Just giving you fair warning," she shrugs in nonchalance running her fingers along the edge of the table, "so you know what you’re getting yourself into."

When she lifts her head back to connect their gaze again, she finds him biting at his bottom lip to contain his signature smirk, "no worries there, darlin’. M’all willing." He almost punctuates his retort with a salacious wink but decides to save it for a more opportune time. Something tells him he’s in for a long evening, not that it’s any cause for concern. Like he said, he is very much consenting to anything her heart desires to do to him.

"Good to know." Y/n quips back with a smile before leaning on her hand resting upon the pool table. "What’s your question then?"

For a moment, Harry forgets he just broke the rack and successfully sent a plain purple ball in one of the table’s pocket, taking him one step closer to victory and granting him one question as per his own proposition. He quickly gathers his reeling thoughts before settling on an easy inquiry, fingers fiddling with the desire to sketch every bit of her character. "Right um, do you have other hobbies besides playin- or should I say, winning pool?"

She wants to slap- or should she say, kiss the smug look off his lovely face, but her answers airs in the same level tone she employs at work, "yes I do."

It’s not enough for Harry’s archeologic curiosity though. He’s barely dusted off the ground beneath his feet to reveal the hint of new groundbreaking findings; armed with sieves and brushes, he is eager to dig a little further, "and what might those be?"

However, y/n is quick to rebuff him, "uh uh, that’s two questions."

Indignation soars through his straightened posture, as he cries out a faint ’what? no!’ and her own ego grows two size at her cunning deceit, "gotta up your game if you wanna keep that perky bum intact, Styles."

Earlier words resonate in the confines of his outfoxed mind then, you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and he tries really hard not to think about the promise following them. Instead he counterattacks in obvious diversion tactic, "that’s twice you’ve mentioned my ass in the past 5 minutes, perhaps I should read into it?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," she lithely deflects as she grabs her own cue with a determined look etched upon her face, "my turn now."

With powerful strides, y/n navigates around the table to position herself at the most promising angle for a score of her own. Once she has both her target and the cue ball in firing line, she tunes out every last bit of stimulus encompassing her; the muffled sound of the music, the sticky oxygen filling up her lungs with sensual tension, the charming presence of the beau intently ogling her every move.

It barely takes her a couple seconds of intense concentration before a sharp thump is bouncing off the table and piercing through the air. The shot is so accurate, clean-cut, vigorous yet graceful and elegant all out once, Harry finds himself mesmerized by her skills more than the subtle form curving out from her bent posture.

The satisfaction is evident in her traits as she straightens up to face him, a pleased rictus forming at her lips. She doesn’t let any suspense unfurl before she cashes in her prize, "so what’s up with the muffin deliveries? You a stress-baker or summat?"

It’s a puzzle that’s been boggling her mind for while now; ever since the first time she watched him gallivanting around the office, handing out kindness and freshly baked goods for the small price of a friendly smile; it’d been a reoccurring thing ever since. The recollection has Harry’s cheeks warm up to a bashful shade of vermillion at the thought of admitting the reason behind his action: he’d bake a basketful of cakes just so he could give her one without exposing himself. Being straight forward with his infatuation may have been unfeasible at the time, but there was nothing against inconspicuously indulging the sweet tooth he knew she had, right?

"I dunno, just like seein' people smile, and everyone likes a good muffin, right?" His answer teeters on the ledge between veracity and evasion, the genuine ‘they were all for you’ being replaced by a less naked truth.

Y/n nods at his answer and waits until he is about to aim for another shot to voice her musings out loud, "mmm, they are quite delicious." Her attempt to distract him turns fruitful when his ears perks at her sultry voice right as he pointedly knocks the white ball with his cue. It’s off by an inch but a near-hit doesn’t help assuage his frustration, "fuck."

"Oh bummer. Guess you’ll have to pass," y/n can’t help but to tease him.

And the pout on his lips does nothing to quell her amusement, "bollocks, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing," she denies before taking his place at the table. The odds are in her favor, a perfect alignment offering itself to sink the blue striped ball right into the closest pocket. And because y/n never misses a clear shot when she’s handed one, that’s exactly what happens. Tucking the cue back at her side, she mulls over the hundred questions titillating her mind and settles for another pass at him,"is this suit the most extravagant you own and if not, what are the others like?"

Harry scrunches up his nose at yet another dig taken at the expense of his clothes, his voice pitching a halftone higher than usual, "hey, s’nough outta you, leave my suits out of it." There is a pout puckering at his lips and y/n giggles at his theatrics when he brings his hands to his chest in a protective gesture. This man and his suits…

"Somehow I don’t believe you give a single fuck about people’s opinion on your fashion choices."

"Very true. But I do value your opinion." For a brief moment, humor and wit give way to vulnerable sincerity as the two of them lock eyes over the pool table. A shy smile graces y/n’s lips, her heart faltering at his sweet sentiment before Harry gently breaks the consuming stare-off, "well, if you’re lookin’ fo’ more extravagant, I actually have a canary yellow flared suit that goes with a violet dress-shirt." And just like that, they found their way back to confidential banter.

"Damn, now I have to see it."

"One day if you’re lucky," this time he does wink at her, and this time he doesn’t let her enchantress juju distract him from the task at hand. As soon as the balls vanishes from the table, the question flies out of his mouth, "do you really find my suits obnoxious?"

Y/n pauses at the inquiry and tries to read into his eyes. She inspects the bright emeralds for  any unsuspected insecurities and when she finds none, she sends him a simple smile, "I love them. I just enjoy too much your reactions when I give you shit about them." Her chuckle tugs at Harry’s lips, before she lets honesty flooding past hers, "you got such a great sense of who you are, Harry, it just shows in the way you dress. I admire that, don’t let that go."

Interiorly, he’s heart is jumping in somersaults at possibly the kindest compliment someone’s ever granted him, the fact that it came from her only sending his beating organ into more acrobatics. Exteriorly, he returns her tender smile and mutters a timorous ‘thanks love,’ before watching her pocket another ball.

This time she doesn’t have to mull it over, "why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"When we kissed earlier, you said you’d wanted to do it for a while. Why didn’t you?"

Her words are bare of any reproach as they both lean on their side against the table, inches apart from each other. It’s a fair question; one that she doesn’t really own as the word could have easily tumbled out from his mouth instead. It’s him on the spot though, and while he didn’t quite expect to broach such hazardous matters over a game of pool, he appreciates the openness of their bond. "I dunno, you always seemed so attached to boundaries at work, always so professional, I didn’t think you’d want me to make a move."

"I secretly did," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Goosebumps race down Harry’s arms as he takes in her confession and the way her teeth are  nipping her lips into a darker shade of pink. His eyes are drawn to them, the urge to close the gap and have her moaning in his mouth growing harder and harder to ignore, "fuck that’s sexy. You’re sexy."

The praise washes over y/n like a cold shower after a scorching day at the beach; startling shivers at first, golden skin tingling, and then all-encompassing relief. She loves how unfiltered he is with her, baring his thoughts to her just as they come, no editing, no secret agenda, no diffidence. Just her pure effect on him plastered across his beautiful face and candy-coating his words with a thick oozing layer of honeycomb syrup.

Leaning the slightest bit towards him, she tempts him with a near-kiss, almost dipping her lips in exquisite spongy fudge, but stops just as their breaths starts blending in one hot mess, "your turn," she purrs against his lips tantalizingly, before stepping away.

Harry looks like he is now the one in need of a cold shower, eyes pinched closed as he tries to compose himself, "right," he clears his throat. It takes him a bit more time to regain enough focus to make a successful go at the game, but once he’s got a good hold on the cue, a stable breath and a clear view of the shot, he takes it with ease and fortune.

As soon as he straightens up, he erases the distance between them, a determined look hardening the subtle lines of his face. "Did you ever think about me like I thought about you? At work, did you ever see me pass in the hallway and it took everythin’ you had not to follow me and kiss me senseless in the copy-machine room while no-one was watchin’?"

"Fuck. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice," y/n confesses in batted breath. It’s clear the scenario isn’t so much a fabrication of his mind made on the spot as it is  a confession of his own experience, and the thought has the air in her lungs going scarce, as though she’s reached the apex of Mount Everest.

Harry isn’t fending off the heated tension much better, fingers twitching around his cue as he’d rather have her underneath his fingertips instead. He takes one look at the ceiling to stave his yearning some and draws in a deep breath."This is killing me," he whimpers while his lips skim over he skin of her forehead. "Go on, take your damn shot so we can be done with this game."

"It was your idea," she reminds him wryly. All of it, really; coming here, playing pool, playing 20 fucking questions, this heated hodgepodge of salacity and virtuous adoration is all his doing.

"I miscalculated."

"Poor you," y/n gently mocks is disgruntled attitude before scoring another ball, or as she likes to regard, another question, another opportunity to further tease at his already crumbling countenance, "what about you, Harry, do you ever think about me? At work… or otherwise?"

She already knows the first half of the answer and only voiced the double-entendre to rile him up, so she’s quite stunned when he whizzes, "too fucking much fo’ my own good."

The pained expression on his face is almost comical for y/n, she can’t resist probing at his despair, "me too." He groans at the flowing visuals he can’t ban from his filthy mind before she gestures towards the pool table in a gentlemanly way, "and that’s your cue," they both share a chuckle at her silly pun.

If Harry wasn’t so lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, he would revel in the way their intellects seem to dovetail on all fronts; humor, banter, seduction, sincerity, nothing is lost in translation, they seem to talk in the same love language. From teasing digs and dirty innuendos to play on words or heartfelt confessions, they know exactly which frequency to tune in.

"Fuck, I can’t see straight," he laughs as he misses a shot for the second time, and y/n quickly takes over his spot around the pool table. Settle, relax, aim, breathe, shoot; another point to her flawless record. She turns to him, looking intently at his blown irises to stir up the flame already inhabiting them, "was it good?"

"Mind-blowing," he answers without unlocking their eyes, and the whole conversation is starting to get to her too. Her thighs rub against together, knuckles turning white around her cue as she tightens her grip and Harry has to bite his lips to contain a moan. He tries to distract himself by taking his turn in the game, and burst out in laughter when he pockets the ball and y/n cries out, "blue ball in the pocket! I feel like their might be a subliminal message somewhere but I can’t quite put my finger on it"

Once they regain their breath from laughing, tears of joy actually peeling from the corner of their eyes, they go back to staring at each other. It’s Harry’s turn to ask a question, and the anticipation had y/n fidgeting under his consuming gaze. She expects him to bounce back on the previous question, but to her surprise he decides to take a different route, "tell me darlin’, if I were to kneel at your feet and look up that pretty dress right now, what color your lil panties would be?"

The question sounds boyish really, yet instead of rolling her eyes at him, her core clenches around emptiness at the thought of having him between her legs right this moment, "can’t answer that, sorry."

"Oh come on love, you gotta say. Them’s the rules," Harry tries to coax the answer out of her but she’s not budging.

"Sorry, Harry. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell." His eyes widen at her lewd implication, the revelation of just how many layers away she is from being in the nude, coming into light. Damn, he would have gotten much more than a nip-slip.

"Fuck me, I need to sit down for a mo’."

She laughs at his dramatic response before picking up her cue, "you do that, in the mean time…" The rest of her sentence is cut short as she positions herself at the pool table, and the next sound cutting through the humid atmosphere comes from the ball falling into its target.

"Jesus, do you ever miss?"

"I don’t play to lose, Styles," she quips back. "Now, what’s your biggest fantasy? Aside from shagging in the copy-machine room, that is."

Harry takes one step closer, gently backing her against the table with one hand encasing her at either side of her waist. As he towers over her, his ardent look ignites a fire at the pit of y/n’s stomach, flame licking all the way up to her heart and down to her toes. Her core throbs before the words fall out of his supple lips like maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Right now? Bend you over this pool table and have my way with you."

"In front of all this people?"

"What d’you think is stoppin’ me from doin’ it right now?"

"Manners?"

The retort earns her a deep chuckle, as he shakes his head in disbelief, "fuck y/n, I lost my manners the moment you kissed me."

The raw admission sends a shiver down her spine, before she regains her full bearings and pushing his cue against his chest for him to grab, "your turn."

Barely moving from his spot nestled against her, he successfully sends the ball down the drain and doesn’t waste any time before asking in the same sultry voice, "favorite position?"

‘Why are y’asking?"

"Future reference," he announces confident.

"Well in that case, kinda like this…" she brushes against him as she bends over the table, ass jutted out on one side, before adjusting the angle of her cue and aiming for the pocket, "…when everything aligns and it just sinks…" bam, she propels the sphere in one strong hit "…right through." She finishes her demonstration with a score and a suggestive smile, only but one ball left for her to obliterate; the eight ball. "Are you ready to lose, Styles?"

"Dunno, is that your question?"

"Yes. I got everything I want to know already."

"Then I don’t fucking care about losin", s’not the game I wanna play anymore," he trails a finger down the skin of her back, goosebumps erupting at his touch. He is stopped by the tip of her cue pressing at his chest, slowly pushing him back from her space, and his hands meet this air in surrender. She’s got a wicked smile on her lips and a title to uphold after all, "last shot, make it count."

Harry takes the shot hastily, half expecting another miss, but the solid yellow ball disappears into the table’s corner in a vibrant crash. Eyebrows raised and shallow breath, he pivots back towards her, "please tell me this is turnin’ you on s’much as it’s turnin’ me on?"

"Yes," she rubs the exposed skin of his chest, eyes leaving his face to trail down his torso. "I’m just better at hiding it," she brings her lips to his ear, "physically or otherwise apparently." Then she leaves a loud smack on his cheek and goes around the table to sink the last ball standing in the way of her victory. In true y/n fashion, she completes a faultless round with one last graceful hit that leaves Harry transfixed by her dexterity.

"Damn, you are the queen of pool, I’m bowing down to you. Any final question?"

She lays the cue down on the table before coming up to him, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me back to my place?"

His head falls back on its neck, eyes closing in deliverance, "fuck yeah." This whole night may have been the most intense and rousing foreplay he’s ever experienced, he can’t wait to deliver good on his own promise.

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles writing #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #reader insert #friends to lovers #coworker!harry #harry styles fluff #creative writing #part2 #flirting

[blorbologist]

Regenerate Bashter Vampire AU?

31. Regenerate

"You touch a creature and stimulate its natural healing ability. The target regains 4d8 + 15 hit points. For the duration of the spell, the target regains 1 hit point at the start of each of its turns (10 hit points each minute).

The target's severed body members (fingers, legs, tails, and so on), if any, are restored after 2 minutes. If you have the severed part and hold it to the stump, the spell instantaneously causes the limb to knit to the stump."

TW: Body horror. Jazzhands @ the spell description, how could I not play with that.

There’s an old saying, shared in the Dolorav. It doesn’t translate well to Common, but it means something along the lines of ‘reaching for vengeance will tear you limb from limb’.

It hadn’t. Or, well, it hadn’t stopped Yasha from doing that to the Skyspear.

But she understands it a bit better, right now, because she was reaching for Skingorger and that freaky fish-fuck took off her arm for it and it’s way too early for things to hurt this bad.

She doesn’t howl, because the Skyspear hadn’t screamed when Yasha cut hers off at the elbow, and just. Grabs Skingorger with her other - only - hand, and keeps moving. Because the gills and fins mean Uk’otoa mean Fjord - 

“Yasha!” Jester screams, and Yasha can just grunt out a “Thank-you” when her giant lollypop throws another sushi cultist into the wall where Beau can jab her staff into its eyes. And through them. It doesn’t wail long at all. 

Jester’s pretty nightgown isn’t all too gored up, so. At least she’s okay. Beau’s showing way more skin, in her breastband and sweatpants, and - keep moving - how can Jester even sleep with her looking like that? But - nope, keep moving.

She doesn’t smell blood. Which should have been the first sign that they’re both alright, really.

With that one dealt with, Yasha keeps moving, up the stairs. Keep moving, step to each pulse of pain. Tries to, at least, because a blue hand yanks her back. 

For a second, an awful second, blue skin means scaly skin and Yasha’s head is throbbing with the agony and - and she’s very thankful she’s not lefthanded, and lifts Skingorger too slow. Because the red haze - or blood? - clears enough to see Jester.

“Yasha - oh, fuck, Yasha,” says Jester, and she’s glowing something beautiful that makes Yasha wince and shy away. It hurts, it really does hurt, and the back of her brain wants to make up for the blood (Beau’s blood, and she’s wasting it, oh no) guzzling from her arm. Or flee from the divine light, even if she knows the Traveler’s doesn’t hurt like a more normal god’s might.

“I’m fine,” Yasha growls. Feels awful, for how Jester steps back. For how her bone starts itching, because it’s got to go first. “They’re after Fjord - they’ll - I’ll be fine. Vampire things, you know?”

“But you’re - oh, ew, gross.” The tiefling makes a face, faintly forked tongue sticking out when she catches the gleam of bone creeping out of the mess of meat, muscle crawling behind. 

It hurts, it hurts like hell, which is - fuck - enough to keep Yasha raging, at least. 

(She’s very, very grateful she can’t smell their blood.)

“Okay,” Jester relents, taking Yasha’s hand and squeezing before barreling up the steps. Finally. 

Yasha can keep moving, stop feeling this itch - fuck, who is keeping her from going now?!

Beau glares at her. Or maybe she’s trying to see anything in the darkness. But it feels like a glare, and Yasha can feel her blood pulsing, angry, from here. “You can’t fucking fight like this,” she snaps. “Just - I’ll watch while you regenerate.”

“But Fjord -”

Yasha’s hit with that crooked smile and shuts up. “C’mon, the captain’s got this. And if he doesn’t - Jester does.”

There’s a very long beat before she adds: “Besides - any minute now Caleb’s going to rock this boat with a Fireball, and I’d rather stay out of the blast radius so he can do that.”

[Send me a spell and I'll write a ficlet/snippet to go with it!]

#critical role #campaign 2 #the mighty nein #yasha nydoorin #beauregard lionett #jester lavorre #bashter #for those who dont know the context: in this AU Yasha is a vampire >:D and eventually Jester becomes one too! but not yet #idk i set this during that one time when the Balleater got attacked by the Uk'otoa fuckies. kinda. #this is vampire regeneration not the spell if it's not obvious #tw body horror #ask game #tumblr prompt #cr fanfic #critical role fanfiction #spell ask game #my writing

[drabbleitout]

Find the Word Tag Game

I was tagged by @spacetimewraithwrites in this post (this one made me realize how many times I use the word open -Jeez!)

My words: tear, fault, open, stare, ran Tagging: @idreamonpaper @abalonetea @inkvials @pertinax--loculos @everlastinq Your Words: Weave, Chance, Snap, Mess, & Heal

Tear(s)

Ryker slowly moved to the edge of his seat, watching Beau’s expression struggle, brow bending, cheeks scrunching as if in pain.

“When it happens, there’s nothing else I can hear or understand. I’m malfunctioning while perfectly operational. When I try to explain it, it’s as if all words are missing and I choke. Everything stalls. I am miserable and empty all at once.”

Light of the screen shimmered in his eyes, moisture brimming and spilling to roll down his face. His eyes blew wide, hands shaking as he touched his cheeks discovering tears. Lines emerged in his skin, distressed seams of mechanical facets that structured his face; crescent ridges around eye sockets, the crest of his cheeks, outlining his mandible and chin.

Fault(y)

[Beau's] irises darted about the room as if searching for a place to hide, mouth quivering with a whirring whine.

Ryker slid off the couch, gently catching Beau by the arm before he could spring up. “It’s okay,” he promised, pulling Beau into his shoulder. “You’re okay.”

“No. Something’s wrong,” Beau’s voice pitched with strain. “This keeps happening –this liquid. It starts and stops without my control. Am I faulty? Should I report a recall?

“No, Beau. No.” Ryker wrapped his arms around him, combing over his hair. “You’re alright. There’s nothing wrong with it. It happens.”

“It’s terrible.”

Open

The temperature was dropping fairly quickly, the first night threatening frost and ice. Combined with the current state of Garnet’s stress level and attitude, there was an increase in the probability of a car accident. Still connected to the station’s server, Beau backed himself up and then overrode the car’s remote lock.

The driver door latch slipped from Garnet’s grip when he tried yanking it open. He nearly slid, cursing and shaking out his hand. Trying again he found the door was still locked. “Piece of…” he huffed, tapping his wristband to the pin pad.

Beau overrode the lock again.

Garnet audibly growled when the door didn’t give, manually typing in his pin. When it wouldn’t budge yet again, he took another breath on his cigarette, glaring at Beau over the glowing tip. “You doin’ this shit?” Beau said nothing to confirm or deny the accusation, “unlock the car, Beau.”

“Your current stress level is far too high to safely operate a moving—”

Garnet slammed a fist on the roof of the cab, “Unlock the car. Right. Now.” Beau held eye contact as he shook his head.

Stare

“D’you think I stand a chance?”

Beau tilted his head.

“With, you know,” Lora dropped her voice to an inaudible volume, mouthing, “Valetta.” Beau considered it for a moment, having never been asked this sort of question. He attempted a shrug.

“It’s one of few explanations for the motivation and frequency of instances why an explosives technician would visit the desk of a peace officer’s desk.” Lora continued to stare at him, not saying anything as if she may interrupt his prognosis. “I can’t say in what way, but I believe she likes you, Lora.”

Ran

“Are you a real robot?”

“Cody!” His mother hushed. Beau laughed, mimicking him as he too leaned closer to whisper to the boy.

“Yeah, I’m a real robot.”

“I’m a little bit robot.”

“Oh?” Beau chuckled.

“I have wires in my head now. Do you have wires in your head too?”

“I have a lot of wires in my head.” Beau ran a few processes in his HUD causing facets in his face to separate creating lines. Cody’s eyes went wide, mouth falling open as he scanned him over. Ever carefully, he reached up, touching Beau’s face, tracing a few of the lines.

“So cool…” Cody whispered.

#tag games #AI Wip #wip: tb

[rmbabydoll]

Dastardly Dating Chapter 1: First Date

Author's note: Finally! I can start my sequel story to "What I said and What I meant". This first chapter is based on a fanart I commissioned by the talented @kelbremdusk Enjoy!

"Ding Ding Ding! We have a winner!"

The night sky was illuminated by bright carnival lights and the sounds of bells and light melodies occupied everyone’s ears.

The perfect first date for Gentle Criminal and his beloved partner La Brava.

Gentle had just won her a stuffed animal after demonstrating impeccable aim in a shooting game, never missing a single target.

"Thank you for the stuffed bear!" La Brava exclaimed as she hugged the prize Gentle won for her.

"It was nothing, my dear!" Gentle responded, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Only the best for you."

La Brava stared lovingly at Gentle as they walked around the pier, leaning against him. Gentle returned the gesture and leaned against her, smiling as he took her hand in his as they continued to walk.

"You know, I’m surprised how easy it was for us to go out on a date." La Brava pondered out loud. "You know, since…we’ve been friends for so long."

"Well, it’s perhaps our first official date, but you could consider our trip to the Hakone Open Air Museum a trial date." Gentle suggested.

"Yeah, that sounds about right." La Brava agreed.

"Besides, any time with you is quality time I am spending with you." said Gentle.

La Brava giggled. "Ever the charmer, I see. How often do you use that line on a date?"

"That line is only reserved for you, especially since I haven’t been on a date since…" Gentle coughed to avoid finishing his sentence.

La Brava giggled more at his attempt to avoid finishing his answer.

"Is this your first date?" He asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, I never really been on a date since I shut myself away for others for so long." she answered.

"Well, I’m glad I am the first to treat you to such merriment." Gentle announced with pride.

They continued to walk around to different stalls, playing games and riding the occasional ride. 

That’s when they came across a photo booth.

"Let’s take a photo!" La Brava exclaimed excitedly.

Gentle was a man of class and culture, but a cutesy photo booth was a bit too saccharine, even for him.

"I don’t know…" he hesitated.

"Oh come on, for me?" She pleaded with a million watt smile.

Gentle always was a sucker for that smile.

"Alright…" He relented with little resistance.

They stepped into the booth and sat down. Gentle put 500 Yen into the machine. 

The booth started to do a countdown to 10.

La Brava gave a big grin and threw up a peace sign with both her hands. Following her lead, Gentle gave a small smile and threw up a peace sign with one hand.

"Say cheese!" She cried.

"Cheese!" He followed.

Snap! First photo was done.

The countdown started again.

Gentle thought to try to look dapper in front of the camera, placing his fist under his chin. Of course, like him, La Brava thought to follow suit, placing a strand of her pigtail between her nose and lip to resemble a mustache like her beloved beau.

Snap! Second photo was done.

Gentle laughed at La Brava’s antic as she grinned at the fact that she made him laugh.

Ten seconds ‘til the next photo.

Gentle didn’t care what the next photo would look like and instead opted to kiss his date.

Snap! Third photo: done.

Parting from the kiss, La Brava asked, "Why did you cover the lens?"

"I don’t know." He answered. "I much rather our kisses be something shared by just you and me.

"What a gentleman! She thought.

"I love you." She said.

Snap! The final photo was captured!

A photo of Gentle engulfed by La Brava’s quirk.

"I am SO sorry!" She cried, burying her blushing face in her hands and against his chest.

"It’s alright!" He responded as he held with one arm and covering his own blushing face with his other hand.

Both knew the pink aura surrounding Gentle was not going away anytime soon, and any accidental action with it could lead to suspicion.

"We’ll need to slip away somehow!" La Brava exclaimed.

"I don’t think that will be possible." Gentle reasoned.

"Then, we will have to downplay it." La Brava resigned.

They left the booth as nonchalantly as possible, but not without a few stares here and there. So much for keeping things private.

"Hello, hello."

"Nothing to see here."

They both murmured to onlookers that stared at them.

That's when one of the onlookers, a security officer, approached them.

"Sir, why are you glowing?" The officer asked.

"Well you see," Gentle started, struggling to create an excuse. "I had…an ALLERGIC REACTION to some popcorn and now my body is healing itself so I don’t go into anaphylactic shock?

"The officer studied Gentle for a good minute to gauge the truthfulness of his answer.

"Okaaay…" The officer relented. "Well, be careful next time. You don’t want to do anything bad for your health."

As soon as the man was gone, Gentle looked down towards La Brava.

"Well, I already break the law, so what's the harm in my girlfriend telling me how she feels about me?" Gentle joked

La Brava breathed a sigh of relief.

"That was close!" She exclaimed. "Again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't apologize." He reassured her. "I started it when I kissed you. Thought I will admit, I can't help but get excited when you say those three words.”

"La Brava blinked at his words.

"Wow... You really know how to sweep a girl off her feet!" She said.

"Well, only when it comes to you." Gentle told her, taking her hand in his. "You're a fantastic partner in crime. In more ways than one.”

The duo reached the conclusion of their date, starting towards the pier exit, glowing from a memorable date. And La Brava's quirk.

Next Chapter

#gentle criminal #la brava #gentle criminal la brava #danjuro tobita #tobita danjuro #aiba manami #manami aiba #gentlebrava #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

[peach-the-owl]

50 and 32 with Caleb. Maybe they are in a battle and the kid accidentally hurts someone (M9) with a spell gone wrong. She hides and doesn't trust herself anymore? Thank you and I hope everything is going great!

Hello, hello! It is always a pleasure to fufill a request. I’m doing pretty good, thank you for asking and I hope you’re doing well too. Now onto the story!! 😁

Acidic Touch

Child of the Nein (Caleb & Child!Reader)

32- Just go away! 50- It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.

You’d come across a scroll for the spell Acid Splash while in your travels and instantly got to work putting it into you little spell book, practicing it whenever you got the chance. You hadn’t told Caleb about it yet hoping to surprise him with a new spell you learned all by yourself in hopes to impress him. This was the first spell you had that could actually do damage to a person and you were feeling confident in your skill, now all you had to do was wait for the perfect moment to show it off. Luckily for you this was the Mighty Nein we were talking about so coming across a scuffle with foes was somewhat of a common occurrence. While on the road to Zadash a small group of assassins decided now was a good time to spring an attack on the party. You were focused, you were ready, you lined up your shot and hurled the bubble of acid at your target, they weren’t paying attention to you so you felt you got this in the bag. They moved out of the way to dodge Beau's attack leaving her in the range of yours, the spell hits her on the shoulder and she yelps in pain looking around to try and figure out where it had come from. You throw your hands over your mouth in shock, that wasn’t supposed to happen, Beau was your friend how could you hurt her? You quickly duck away into a nearby thicket using a shrub as cover for yourself while trying to get a grip on what just happened. You felt ashamed of yourself thinking that maybe you should’ve just stuck to playing a supportive role so that way you wouldn’t end up hurting anyone else. You couldn’t help but wonder what the Nein would think, specifically what Caleb would think if he knew what you did without his permission, he may never let you use magic again after that horrible display. A figure darts past you through the thicket, one of the assassins was making an escape, this could be your chance… but what if you screw up again and just make it worse? Your hesitance made you loose sight of the assassin but now another figure had entered the thicket.

"(Y/n)! Where are you?!" You could defiantly pick out Caleb’s voice from anywhere, he sounded panicked. While you’d normally jump out and yell "here" you couldn’t bring yourself to do it today, still stuck on what you did to Beau worrying that you’d end up doing it again. You didn't want to risk something like that again. You shift slightly from your position having been uncomfortable with it causing your shrub to shake and gaining Caleb’s attention. "There you are, I nearly had a heart attack thinking they had taken you."

"Leave me alone." You didn’t want to sound rude but you also didn’t want to be close to anyone right now either. Huh, was this how Caleb felt sometimes when he was in one of his hazy states?

"Kleiner, are you feeling alright?" He reaches a hand out for you.

"Just go away!" You sudden outburst shocks him, having never seen you act like this in all the time he’s known you. "I don’t want to hurt you too." You add the last part quietly, he still heard you though.

"Hurt me? What are you talking about?" You just turn and try to hide yourself in the shrub more. "Please, you have to tell me what’s wrong." You pull out your spell book, opening to the page with the Acid Splash spell and hand it to Caleb.

"I wanted to surprise you with a spell I learned all by myself, but instead I hurt Beau with it."

"You what!?"

"It was an accident! I didn’t mean to… But I get it if you don’t want to teach me anymore." You rush your words out, voice wavering by the end and a tear slowly made its way down your cheek, you were scared of what his full reaction would be. A moment passes… then another. Your gently brought out of your shrub cover as Caleb places an arm around you, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"I don’t like seeing you putting yourself down like this, if anything it is my fault for not preparing you to properly engage in combat. There is still so much I want to show and teach you."

"But what if I mess up again?"

"That’s normal, you can’t expect every outcome to be the same, those are the risks you have to take in battle." You nod in slight understanding. Caleb slowly starts bringing you both back out of the thicket towards the group who were patching themselves up after that little scuffle. You hesitate a second before taking a breath and walking over to Beau, who was getting tended to by Jester.

"Hey Beau." You start a little nervously.

"Oh hey, what’s up kid." She replies, stretching her arms out casually once Jester finished healing her.

"It’s good that your ok, and I’m sorry for hurting you." Beau raises a confused eyebrow at this. "I didn’t mean to, I was aiming for the assassin guy but hit you by accident."

"That was you who threw the acid?" You nod feeling your face heat up a bit in embarrassment. "Not bad kid. Hey Caleb, your kid finally knows how to pack a punch! Good on them." She yells over at him, surprising you with how impressed she sounded.

"Best part is they learned it on their own." Caleb responds with just a hint of pride in his voice.

"So your not mad?" You ask still confused by Beau’s reaction.

"Nah, I’ve taken much worse. You’re good." You give her a smile and make your way back over to Caleb.

"You see, all is well in the end." He says once you reach him.

"Yeah, I guess it is… Soooo when do I get to learn a spell like Fireball?" You look up at him with big eyes, he freezes for a second.

"Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves now."

#critical role #critical role & reader #mighty nein #the mighty nein #mighty nein & reader #caleb widogast #caleb & reader #nothing romantic here

[rainbowcaleb]

throw me a lifeline

(warning: angst, those eye tattoos, and major spoilers for episode 122) (edit: also available on ao3 for easier reading!)

There’s an itch in his head he can’t shake out, a voice in his mind like an echo, and something new, terrible and new, resting on his shoulder.

Caleb was awake. (He pinched the skin around the intrusion on his shoulder. The tattoo was flat, eerily smooth like undamaged skin. The pinch was sharp, grounding. Yes, he was awake.) He looked at Beau, they looked at each other, both of their own gazes flitting to the red eyes and back. They had pried too far into the unknown, delved in the ocean without asking the right questions, and now the weight of water was crashing back in.

Fjord was scrambling forward from where he was keeping watch, his brow furrowed, questions about to spring from his lips.

Caleb held up a hand. “Wait, can you-” he gestured towards the sword and then around in the air.

Fjord shook his head, his shoulders slumped. “Not now,” he murmured. “Not yet.”

“You think we’re-” Beau pointed at her eyes, her real ones, not the red one.

Caleb nodded. “Lucien’s trust does not extend very far, it is safe to assume we are being observed.” Caleb tried to keep his sight line steady, not letting his eyes look down towards the new watchful symbol on Beau’s hand.

Fjord was shaking the others awake, pressing his fingers to his lips, hushed whispers and conversations growing like wind around them, but Beau and Caleb continued looking at one another.

With a twist of emotion in her face, Beau broke the quiet. “What can we do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What does it mean?!”

“I don’t know.” Caleb wished he had another answer.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, on the other one, the unmarked one. “We can’t stay here!” Jester looked between her friends, anguish on her face. “What if it keeps happening? What if it gets worse?”

“Let’s kill him.” Veth was already digging through her bag for who-knows-what. “Maybe he’s the source, maybe if we get rid of him, it’ll-” her voice broke. “I don’t want you to-”

Yasha was quieter than her usual, but everyone in the room could feel the rage rolling from the tight set of her jaw and the grip on her sword.

“Wait-” Fjord looked around the room, uselessly squinting in the corners, at the ceiling, finding no peace of mind hidden there. “How can we leave? He’ll know the second the tower disappears and the cold hits him.”

“He may already know.” Caduceus said, letting the truth strike the room like ice.

“We have...our friend.” Jester looked around at them all.

Beau looked confused. “Uh, the one outside? What can he do-”

“No, no, no.” Jester went up on her tiptoes. “The floating one? He wants to help, he asked us how he can help.”

“I don’t trust him.” Beau grimaced. “But...”

“But.” Caleb met her gaze. “Beauregard, I...I don’t know what this means. I am unsure if it's in my power to…it came from the dream, Beau. Manifested from the dream.”

“If we weren’t all so exhausted…” This was a wobble in Jester’s voice. “I’m a cleric, I can heal, I can heal! And I could try, or Caduceus, but it's the middle of the night, and I just can’t. I can’t.”

“Oh, Jester-” Yasha’s rage had simmered down into the background for now, and she let go of her sword to place a hand on Jester’s arm. Yasha reached her other hand out to hold Beau’s.

“Making plans or involving other people can wait until we’re not-” Fjord glanced upwards again, nerves tensing his body like a coiled spring. He lowered his voice again. “We can’t plan anything if we stay here. Caleb, can you take us away somewhere?”

Caleb was looking down at his arms, a map of scars he knew intimately, intrusions healed but never gone, but at least he knew how and why. This tattoo, this eye, this-

“-did you hear me?”

Caleb’s head lifted. Fjord was leaning towards him, repeating his question. Caleb tried to focus. “Depends on the somewhere. There is risky, and then there is dangerous.”

“We have to go to him.” Jester’s voice was pleading, but steady. Trying to get her friends to see reason. “We need to go somewhere safer, we need help, we need his magic. And he’s smart!” Jester tacked it on almost as an afterthought, a small smile on her face. “He’s really smart. He reads all those books, Caleb you know this, you said he was super intelligent and really handsome.”

Caleb knew what she was doing and he let his face form some mimic of a smile. “We do not know where he is, all we have is a mere scrap of a description...teleporting is flirting with death. I do not think I can take us to him.”

“We may need to hurry.” Caduceus was looking out towards the center of the tower, his eyes focused on the bronze aperture in the ceiling.

“We need to leave.” Veth’s voice was sharp. “We just need to get out.”

“He can meet us halfway, I’ll call him.” Jester stood up, determination bright on her face.

“Wait, what-” Fjord said.

“If Lucien is listening right now-” Beau started.

Jester waved her fingers in the air. “Hi, mama! Checking in to say our snowy trip isn’t going as planned. We got kinda lost...and hurt, but coming home to you soon!”

Beau smiled, a real one. “Jester you mad genius.”

Jester curtsied. “Our friend will at least know something is happening.”

“Caleb-” Caduceus turned to him sharply, his usual soft demeanor gone.

He got on his knees and rushed to get the right components from his bag. “Gather close!” He didn’t glance up to see if his friends had followed orders, he kept sketching the familiar runes on the ground. “I have been gathering stones while we walked, as a precaution. I will take us backwards on our journey, far enough that they cannot quickly find us again, but not too far. It will be cold. Get ready.”

Jester’s hand was back on his shoulder. Veth’s on the other. A circle of friends holding hands around him. Caleb’s chalk snapped in his grip as he rushed through the last rune. Then whoosh.

It felt thrice as cold compared to the tower’s warmth a second ago. Everyone stepped closer together, huddling against the sudden wind.

“We’re probably still being watched.” Beau looked around, squinting against the bluster of snow, but they had been dropped in pitch black.

“Perhaps.” Caleb tugged his scarf closer around himself. “But I have bought us time.”

“Jester, has he replied?” Fjord asked.

She frowned. “No, not yet at least, maybe he’s sleeping? Should I try again?”

“Can you?”

She bit her lip. “I’m running low on spells, especially since we haven’t rested in so long.”

“You said you took us backwards,” Beau turned to Caleb. “If we tried walking to Aeor, would we be retracing our steps right back to the Tomb Takers?”

Caleb nodded, then dragged a rough hand over his face. Reckless, stupidly reckless and ambitious. It was obvious, he should have known. He knew what knowledge meant. He had seen Vess. He had seen Lucien. He had seen the trail of dead bodies. He should have known.  

“Yes.” He spat out bitterly. “We’d return right to them.”

Fjord peered out against the darkness. “Somewhere east...our friend said he’s somewhere east of here.”

“Great load of good that does,” Veth grumbled. “If he’s stuck where he is, and we’re stuck where we are, how the hell are we supposed to get help?”

Jester shot up, practically dancing on her tiptoes. “Oh!” Her expression sped through reactions, relief and confusion and happiness. “He heard me, he’s awake now, he’s…”

“What did he say?” Caleb wanted to cling to her, the hope of her message a lifeline against this chaos.

“He’s not ‘supposed‘ to leave.” Jester frowned. “He sounded really frustrated, I think there’s some story there that we don’t know and the word limit, well, he didn’t say anything more about that. But he said he will find a way to us. He needs more information. Caleb, how? What can I tell him?”

His friends looked towards him for a response, but it just felt like more eyes. More eyes. Caleb didn’t have the answer, his mind was racing, they were in the middle of snowy nowhere with no landmarks. Even the sharpest magician couldn’t find a single pebble in the ocean like this.

“Unless…”

“Unless what?” Beau asked.

Caleb hadn’t noticed he had spoken the thought aloud. It felt suddenly like the breaking of a promise, even though no such words had been exchanged between them. It was a small moment, so delicate. He had handed this to Caleb at the end of one study session, telling Caleb he had done so well, that he was learning so fast. Essek had smiled. Caleb remembered that clearly, that smile, that brush of hands as he dropped it into Caleb’s palm.

“He gave me something, a gift.” Caleb could sense a raised eyebrow and an incoming question but he rushed past that. “If you message him and remind him, he could use it as a focus to find me. To find us.”

“What is it?” Jester asked. “In case he doesn’t remember?”

“It is just a bit of obsidian.” He shrugged. “A spell component.”

There was a weight to his words that made Jester give him a long look, but Caleb didn’t explain further.

Jester ran her fingers through the air again. “Us again, mama! Very snowy outside tonight, remember that obsidian you gave Caleb? When you see us again, maybe he can give it back?” She paused, then smiled. Essek’s response was much faster that time. “He is coming. He told us to try and find a way to stay warm, it may take him some time.”

 “‘Some time’?” Beau frowned. “Bastard.”

“He did say he was going to ‘sneak out’, whatever that means.” Jester grinned. “Ooh, I can’t wait to see him, that sounds like some juicy story.”

“Can we dome it up?” Fjord looked to Caleb, but his face fell when he saw Caleb’s dark expression. “Okay guys, looks like we need to huddle.”

“Let’s move some snow,” Caduceus started sweeping at the ground with his staff. “We can at least make a little dry spot.”

It was painful work. Not because it was hard, but because in the silence of gloved hands pushing against the ice and dirt, it was too easy to get trapped in thought. Whispers from the echo of his dream still ran wildly through Caleb’s mind, unsettling him in their reminder of what now sat on his shoulder. It was part of him now, whatever it was. Embedded, ingrained, intertwined. It had not asked; it just became.

Ten minutes passed, then twenty. They risked a small fire from Caleb’s hands, pressing shoulder to shoulder to block the light and keep the heat. Another ten minutes, and Veth had begun complaining about a lack of common decency from Essek, with Beau joining in as well.

“-a lack of punctuality, put that in the column of things you can’t trust about him.” She was saying. Then she stopped. Beau looked out towards the dark. “I swear to Ioun if that’s a wolf, or yeti, or anything other than Essek, I will-”

She didn’t finish her thought. There was a voice calling on the wind.

“It’s Essek.” Caduceus smiled. “That’s him.”

It was hard to see the cloaked figure against the night sky. He carried no light and his dark cloak melded in with his surroundings. He made nearly no sound, his feet never touching the ground. It was Essek.

Jester was the first to stand up, walking towards him, then running. They didn’t know anything for sure, if he could help, but his presence felt like a new hope breaking through the storm. She tackled his side in a messy hug, forcing him to drop to the ground to stand.

“Jester!” Caleb didn’t have to see him to know he was smiling despite circumstances; he could hear it in Essek’s voice. “I apologize for the wait, it was difficult to get away. I am glad to see you're all here, you’re all...alive. I feared the worst, your messages, they were...hard to decipher.”

“Sorry I called you mama, Essek! We were afraid we were being spied on. Actually-” she looked around horrified. “Oh no, if he’s looking at us right now, he’ll see you too. He might memorize your face to scry on later, I think he can do that, he seems able to do anything.”

“Who?” Essek looked startled.

“Where are you stationed, can you take us there?” Beau stood up quickly.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Fjord explained.

“Yes, I can.” Essek looked around at them all, quickly taking stock of their expressions and posture. “We can go right now. The fire-”

Caleb had already snuffed it out and was walking towards him. He had a sudden impulse to follow Jester’s example, to run towards Essek and pull him into a hug, craving the solid touch of the friend he had not seen in months, although he was so often in his thoughts. But he couldn’t. It was a wall he had built himself. He couldn’t.

They gathered in a circle again, holding hands despite the spell not asking of this component. It was familiar and comforting, things that seemed so lacking in this journey. Caleb reached for Essek’s hand, he would allow himself this gesture (he was only so strong against the tide of what he felt).

There was something cold and small in Essek’s palm.

“Oh,” Essek looked down when Caleb drew his hand a few inches back. “Apologies, I forgot I was still holding…”

Caleb recognized the object, as it was the other half of Caleb’s own obsidian piece. Two parts, one whole. Caleb grasped his hand, uncaring of the object between them. He tried to smile, it was a grimace, but it would do.

“Thank you.” His voice was low, a whisper. He did not know why, but he didn’t want to be overheard. Caleb squeezed his hand, letting the obsidian dig into them both, the pain grounding him to the moment. Essek did not pull away, but held on. “Thank you.” He repeated.

“Go time.” Beau said.

Essek pulled himself away from Caleb’s eyes and nodded. The swirl of magic around them blended with the snow, grey and white like a dust storm, and then they were off.

Hope and fear clamoring in their hearts.

#shadowgast #critical role fic #shadowgast fic #essek thelyss #caleb #mighty nein #it isn't HEAVY shadowgast but very implied #i wrote this in a rush on friday morning after the episode and then forgot to post it #my fic