#i can just feel Jester processing that & deciding to push them together in EVERY other interaction after

[orcelito]

Critical role 2 episode 97 more like I am losing my FUCKING mind

[boldlyvoid]

can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

[perperam]

Do you have any Harlivy fic recommendations? Preferably something that is already completed?

OH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

okay okay so quick little tangent fact !! I actually just finished my undergrad degree in "english literature analysis & writing" and reading fics is so fun bc I get to analyze them and break them down and if it's particularly well written the stars align and it's just UGH so good. 

ratings are: E (explicit) M (mature) T (teens and up) and G (everyone) anyways here is a HUGE list of my favorite fics to date, their stats/details/plots, reasonings as to why they're on the list to begin with, and a short analysis:

SHORT STORIES (less than 30k words)

for your convenience they’re in order of length bc I’m focusing on this super hard rn

KISS YOUR BEST FRIEND CHALLENGE (T)  STATS — 340 words, shenanigans, fluff PLOT — Harley, TikTok and general Social Media queen, decides to do the trending challenge to kiss your best friend. The best friend? Her roommate and the woman she’s been crushing on for fucking ever: Poison Ivy.

AM I TOO CLOSE? (CAUSE YOU FOLD INTO ME LIKE A HEART WITH A BEAT) (G) STATS — 839 words, fluff, shenanigans PLOT — Harley genuinely wasn’t looking for trouble, but it’s hard to just have a day out when you’re one of Gotham’s most wanted. Running into Ivy, she takes drastic measures (and her hoodie into the mix) to distract the police from looking in their direction.

I’M HOME (G) STATS — 892 words, domestic fluff PLOT — After a long and rough day at work, Ivy comes home to Harley. Relaying the details of her day, she basks in the comfort of her girlfriend, who provides gentle questions and is a phenomenal listener. General cuteness.

CONFLICT DIAMONDS (G) STATS — 990 words, wedding shenanigans, banter, humor PLOT — Batman and Renee Montoya respond to a break-in at a jewelry store, except even though the owner is duct-taped to the wall, it isn’t really a break-in; Harley’s just trying to shop for a ring for Ivy, and that’s difficult to do when the owner is screaming in the corner. Batman and Renee both pitch in to help pick something nice for Harley’s girl, resulting in hilarious banter.

OF COURSE (T) STATS — 1.1k words, hurt/comfort (kinda), harley quinn animated tv show centric PLOT — In the aftermath of Ivy’s death, rebirth, and the fall of Joker Tower, Harley collapses onto the ground. Since she never mentioned that her parents are the reason for most of her injuries, Ivy isn’t sure why she’s so out of it.

PERFECT MORNINGS (T) STATS — 1.1k words, domestic fluff/bliss PLOT — Ivy, who usually wakes up early and before Harley, takes a moment to look at the countless muscles, ridges, scars, and tattoos on Harley’s body as she sleeps. General cuteness.

I’D LOVE TO CHECK YOU OUT (T) STATS — 1.7k words, university au, fluff PLOT — Harley visits the library virtually every day, and it’s definitely not because she needs to work on her university courses and homework. She finally works up the courage to speak to the alluring redhead she sees there every day while absentmindedly looking at a book on sharks. 

I’LL LOVE YOU IN THE MORNING (NOON, NIGHT) (T) STATS — 2.1k words, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — A snapshot look into Ivy and how she comes to know, care, and love all the sides of Harley—from psychiatrist to criminal to girlfriend. She loves her throughout it all. 

DAY-DREAMING (T) STATS — 2.2k words, shenanigans, psychiatrist Harleen PLOT — Ivy’s falling for her psychiatrist—her humorous, intelligent, caring, and downright gorgeous psychiatrist. It’s difficult, to say the least.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THEMYSCIRA (DOESN’T) STAY IN THEMYSCIRA (T) STATS — 2.3k words, humor, wedding shenanigans, angst with a happy ending PLOT — In a surprise twist of events, Harley and Ivy were drunkenly married at Themyscira. When asked at the wedding if anybody had objections to the union of Ivy and Chuck, Wonder Woman and the Queen of Themyscira herself come to object. Ivy, for lack of a better word, wants to die a little.

NOT A ROCKER CHICK (T) STATS — 3.1k words, rock band au, fluff PLOT — The last thing Ivy wants to do is go to a rock band concert with her best friend, Selina. Despite her best efforts, she can’t help but completely fall into the rhythm of the band and their music, so different than her own norm. And okay, maybe the singer (who Selina was friends with and called “Harley”) was also kinda hot...

A TENDER HEART AMONG THE GREEN (T) STATS — 3.2k words, gotham city sirens raise Lucy au, domestic bliss PLOT — Harley and Selina come back home to the apartment to find Ivy passed out asleep with Lucy cuddling into the crook of her neck and Selina’s cats cuddling her legs. Knowing that Ivy would rather be caught dead than in such a compromising situation (after all, she is the Poison Ivy, who “hates humans”) the two take a photo, since it lasts longer. Shenanigans and cuteness ensue.

BUILDING YOUR GIRL’S SECOND STORY (M) STATS — 3.3k words, university/grad school au, angst with a happy ending PLOT — Snapshots of Harley’s battle with her violent and abusive boyfriend, Jack, and the way in which Bruce, his boyfriend Clark, and her best friend (and potentially lover) Pamela all love Harley and will do anything, anything, to make sure she gets the help, care, and love she needs.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF NORMAL (T) STATS — 3.6k words, coronavirus pandemic/quarantine au, family au PLOT — Ivy is requested by the Justice League to help create and manufacture a vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. As she works on the vaccine, she video calls Harley and their daughter Lucy, both of whom miss her very much. 

RABBIT IN THE GARDEN (T) STATS — 4.4k words, implied suicide attempt, hard angst PLOT — Winters are difficult to Ivy. When Harley comes home one day to see her submerged fully in water in the bathtub, the only thing Harley can do is cry and take her out. Ultimately Ivy is alright—but it doesn’t make it any easier.

WE WILL BE (EVERYTHING THAT WE’D EVER NEED) (T) STATS — 5.8k words, high school au, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — Harley and Ivy are best friends from high school, living in the middle of Arizona. Ivy is absolutely head over heels for Harley, but the latter is in a growing and increasingly abusive relationship with the older “bad-boy” (literally) Jack. Eventually, the two grow together in more ways than one.  

WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS (EXCEPT NO DOGS DIE) (M) STATS — 9.7k words, domestic bliss, no powers just botanist & psychiatrist au PLOT — After her abusive ex-boyfriend tries to maniacally tear down the front door of her apartment with an ax as her best friend, Selina, pushes the table against the splintering wood, Bruce recommends that Harley gets a dog. She gets two German Shepard brothers—Bud and Lou—who lead her one day on their walk to the most beautiful flower shop owner Harley’s ever seen. The story of Harley and Ivy, told with Bud and Lou present to witness every moment.

THE MOMENT I AWAKEN GHOSTS (T) STATS — 11.7k words, falling in love, feelings & realizations PLOT — A deep look into Ivy’s feelings and how they evolve from general hatred against Harleen the psychiatrist at Arkham to a blooming, kind and gentle love towards Harley Quinn, the crown jester of crime. 

HARLEQUIN’S ISLE (T) STATS — 17.5k words, hurt/comfort, happy ending, shenanigans, humor PLOT — Harley and Ivy decide to go on a vacation on Bruce Wayne’s new eco-friendly plane, but in a surprise twist of events, things go terribly wrong, Ivy falls out of the plane, and the two (as well as all the other rich and wealthy big-name CEOS on the plane) get stranded on an island with someone actively trying to rob the investors. Harley and Ivy will fight them, god damn it, because they deserve this vacation and they will have it.

LONGER STORIES (30k words to 100k words)

YOUR LOVE (DÉJÀ VU) (G) STATS — 33k words, slow burn, mild angst, canon divergence PLOT — A what-if-Harley-found-Ivy-first fic, YOUR LOVE wonderfully illustrates Dr. Harleen Quinzel treating Ivy in a wonderfully humane and kind way, including learning floriography, the language of flowers, in order to better relate to her. Ivy is taken aback by her doctor's genuine care and begins to develop feelings, all the while Harleen falls hard and fast which wholly confuses and frightens her. The one caveat is that while this is happening, Harleen is also treating the Joker as well, who tries (keyword: tries) to manipulate her. Ivy and Harley dance a timid tango around one another as they try to navigate this new playing field of romantic feelings for one another, and things come to a breaking point when Harleen realizes that, perhaps, all of her patients have a point and that the real villains are not the ones inside the asylum, but rather the ones running it. FAVORITE DETAILS — I just love the way this is written. It provides a wonderful and almost skinny-love like romance (except this takes place in an insane asylum) as Harleen and Ivy both try to understand their strong feelings for one another. The way in which the rogues and other inmates/patients all look out for one another was very heartwarming, and Waylon and Eddie's thinly veiled camaraderie with Ivy—and her thinly veiled appreciation for it—were both lovely and created a really warm environment. It really underlined why Harley loved them because you love them too in the process, and see how she reaches her breaking point.  CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harley, as she is in all of my favorite fics, is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and talented psychiatrist. Her caring nature is wonderfully outlined in this fic as she helps Waylon, Eddie, Ivy, and everybody else in the asylum be treated with genuine respect and care, going as far as to get them personalized gifts. Her psyche fracturing slowly never once makes her seem unintelligent to the reader, even as she actively places a ditz persona in order to fool the rest of the asylum staff (and the Joker). Ivy, on the other hand, is illustrated in a way that perfectly shows how all she genuinely needed was someone to listen. She's sometimes harsh and crass but you can see how she begins to soften as Harley helps her and treats her with: you guessed it, genuine respect. FINAL VERDICT — I would get this tattooed on my ass if I could

NOVEL LENGTH WORKS (100k+ words)

ACROSS THE WAY (M) STATS — 128.7k words, slow-burn, tattoo artist & flower shop owner au  PLOT — Botanist and flower shop owner Pamela Isley moves to Gotham from Seattle in search of a new life. Her shop is located directly next to a tattoo shop—one that is incredibly loud and bothersome. Upon walking in to give the shop a piece of her mind, she meets one of the resident artsits, Harley Quinzel, and cannot get her out of her mind. The two become best friends, and feelings slowly start to develop. On a night when Harley is most vulnerable and in need of a place to escape, Pam offers her apartment as a refuge, and from that point on things are never the same again (in the best way possible).  FAVORITE DETAILS — The SIT sessions were a wonderful touch and I loved seeing the recovery of both Ivy and Harley, because it was so real. I also loved how once Harley got out, she did everything in her power to protect both herself and Ivy from Jack, and we got to see her and Ivy grow into their wonderful, healthy romance. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — I love how all of the characters are illustrated; Selina, who is the caring best friend and genuinely does her best to help others around her all the while being her cocky, usual self. Pam, who escaped Seattle and started anew in Gotham and is the crass botanist and also the insanely kind and caring lover. Barbara is the adorable coffee shop owner, Floyd is the caring figure for Harley that she never had, and everyone is just wonderful.  FINAL VERDICT — literally go read this rn, what are you even doing

MAD LOVE: THE BEGINNING & MAD LOVE: THE FINAL CHAPTER (M) STATS — nearly 400k words total, angst, canon divergence, domestic fluff, slice of life PLOT — imagine YOUR LOVE except this is much longer, much more heart-wrenching, a whole lot more angsty, and Harleen's break with Harley is a lot more prevalent. Another what-if scenario of Dr. Harleen Quinzel meeting and treating the illusive Poison Ivy instead of the Joker, MAD LOVE shows an interesting depiction of the way they manipulate, hurt, care, and love one another. The entire story is riddled with well placed metaphors, recurring themes, and both Ivy and Harley's characters are illustrated in the most complex and interesting way. All throughout both the initial and the sequel, Ivy and Harleen play a metaphorical chess game in manipulation as a means to gain the upper-hand on the other, which creates a dangerous foundation for their following love story. In the sequel, "The Final Chapter," the story starts with Harley and Ivy—already married near the end of "A New Beginning"—having two kids and the entire piece spans over Harley's lifetime until she's on her deathbed, with Ivy still stuck at 33 years old beside her. I personally stopped reading the story after Harley died (I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue on) but if you continue reading on, you get to see Ivy move on and appreciate Harley's impact on her life as she finds love and happiness again after the loss of her wife. FAVORITE DETAILS — We get insight into both Ivy and Harleen's trauma, and how not everything can be fixed with love. Neither Harleen nor Ivy (or their actions for that matter) are characterized as perfect in any way, and the story never excuses any of their more-than-questionable actions; in fact they make MANY mistakes and manipulate one another throughout the story, and both have power over the other (Harleen is her psychiatrist, but Ivy could easily kill her, so emotional power over someone with immense physical power). CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harleen is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and capable psychiatrist, and the story somehow wonderfully mixes Harley's desire for violent chaos with Harleen's desire to help others. v Ivy is illustrated as the epitome of "I hate you and will not be nice unless you're literally either my wife or kids." She is seldom kind to others, is often crass, but an entire softy when it comes to Harleen and their children. She's a hard worker and is heavily involved in her research. Harleen, on the other hand, is equally cunning but more lighthearted, extremely athletic and active, the "fun" mom, and less into power trips (unless it's about Ivy). FINAL VERDICT — definitely the most interesting fics I've ever read in my entire fucking life, it's so complex and wonderful and a literal minefield of analysis worthy literature, I'd also get this tattooed on my ass if I could

[2manyfandoms2count]

Poisson d'avril

Here, have a half-baked April Fool’s Day fic my brain decided to wake me up for. For context, one of the most popular jokes for April 1st in France is taping paper fish to each other’s backs, the more original the fish the better (my childhood is filled with trying to sneak behind teachers' backs to tape one on them; they were very chill about it, tbh). Poisson d’Avril is also what you say at the end of a joke on that day (think "sike", but festive). More about this great tradition that apparently dates back to at least 1466 here.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Marinette loved April Fool’s Day at Françoise Dupont. The school was always buzzing with little pranks at that time of the year, the blooming spring giving a wonderfully cheerful backdrop to the shenanigans the collégiens were up to.

These were all very light-hearted, if sometimes a little elaborate.

As usual, some students had been found early in the morning in the classrooms, thwarting their attempt to recreate the legendary horizontal fiasco of 20XX, where everything had been set up to look like the rooms had been flipped by 90°. Mr Damoclès had let them go mercifully, thankful that the students hadn’t been tempted to glue everything to the ceiling in an effort to one-up their predecessors. Somehow, he wouldn’t have put it past Kim and Alix to try and coordinate the project, as a last hurrah before heading on to lycée.

There were also seemingly well-meaning classmates offering chouquettes or donuts in the courtyard, which Marinette knew to stay well away from, knowing the former were likely sprinkled with coarse salt, and the latter filled with the likes of mayonnaise instead of jam. She’d been in their shoes a couple of years prior, building her classmates’ trust by bringing them the sweet delicacies every day for a week, and switching on April 1st as a joke.

Heading to class, she heard a lot of laughter, people telling jokes, or trying to see how far they could take a story without it being called out on it (this year, Nino had Kim panicking over a brevet exam part they supposedly had, which was a step down from the previous year, where he’d convinced him that everybody needed to come in dressed up in medieval costumes, and that he’d landed the court jester role; his friend had turned up the next day in a full outfit, complete with bells on his hat and shoes, and upon discovering the deception, had decided to make good use of them and make the joke everybody’s problem).

However much she enjoyed those kinds of pranks, though, Marinette’s favourite remained the classic poisson d’avril: taping paper fish to people’s backs. It was something anyone could take part in, as a predator or a prey, with or without premeditation. You didn’t necessarily need scissors and tape, if you managed to steal some from somebody else’s back.

Marinette liked to take it seriously. Done right, the exercise demanded stealth she’d had even as a little kid, and had honed ever since being chosen to become Ladybug, as well as creativity she had piles of. She’d stayed up the previous night, making plenty of fish varying in size and colour, some tailored to her friends, like the Rena Rouge and Carapace ones that were intended for Alya and Nino respectively. She’d of course also made the rest of the Miraculous team, as well as some other designs based on Kitty section, her classmates, or celebrities.

As always at the end of the day, Rose walked around with a whole school on her back. It wasn’t clear if she was completely oblivious to it, or if she knew what was going on but enjoyed the giddy giggles of the people who managed to add an extra fish in, or take one off.

The only person who’d managed to escape the prank so far was Adrien, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Kim, Alix and Nino had gone to great lengths to get at least one fish on his back, even recruiting Markov to sneak behind him, but the boy seemed to have a sixth sense.

No sooner did he hear the faintest of ruffles, that his head would jerk up, eyes darting around to figure out where the sound had come from, thwarting any efforts, no matter how elaborate they’d been.

Marinette had been reluctant to target Adrien, despite having a special fish for him, complete with his stripes and an orange-tipped tail, but as the day went by and more people joined the challenge to trick him, she felt the urge to compete rise in her chest and started unwillingly tracking his every movement, trying to find a breach in his focus.

It was a fastidious process, even for someone who enjoyed watching Adrien happily live his life, but it paid off around the end of the day, just after the last bell.

Marinette noticed that Adrien’s shirt looked a little rumpled around the back as they were retrieving books from their lockers, and approached him calmly.

“Adrien?” She announced her presence when she was right behind him, surprised that he hadn’t turned around yet. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.

“Marinette!” He yelped, a hand flying to his heart. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.” He chuckled nervously.

“No, I’m sorry I scared you!” Marinette looked down, apparently sheepish. In truth, she was cursing inwardly at the missed easy opportunity. Adrien had been at ease with her coming closer, which she assumed was because it was the end of the day and he’d started letting his guard down; she could have gone about her business and he would’ve been none the wiser. She shook her head; it didn’t matter, she’d just go on with her original plan. “It’s just that… well, it’s stupid, but the back of your shirt is a little creased, and I know how important your appearance is to your family so… Do you mind if I fix it?”

“Thanks Marinette, that’d be awesome.” He smiled at her in a way that would have made her lose her cool, had it been any other day. But she was on a mission, and there was no way she was letting the opportunity of pranking Adrien when nobody else had managed the feat go by.

“Okay, let me just…” Marinette reached into her purse and took the first piece of paper she felt, before gently taping it to Adrien’s shirt, making sure to smooth the fabric at the same time so he wouldn’t realise what she was doing.

“There, all done!” She smiled when she was satisfied the tape had adhered well enough.

He smiled back at her, but was interrupted in his thanks by Nino and Alya calling for them to hurry up.

“Today was really fun, I’m so glad I got to experience it first hand,” Adrien beamed as the group walked out of the building, Nino and Adrien a little ahead of the girls. “And I’m really proud that I survived it without getting pranked!”

Marinette bit back a laugh, eyes darting to his back.

“I wouldn’t be so confident, Sunshine,” Alya replied, untaping the fish from his back and handing it to him.

“What…” Adrien stopped in his tracks, looking at it, and particularly Marinette’s signature on the back of the piece of paper, in disbelief. He turned around with a look of mock betrayal. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” He pouted.

“I couldn’t just let you off the hook,” she shrugged with a small smile, making a mental note to reuse the phrase with Chat Noir when she saw him later. He’d enjoy the pun.

Adrien let out a small chuckle as he turned the fish around, but the sound died as he saw the pattern. The colour drained from his face and he froze as he took in the black and green colour scheme and the fish’s whiskers.

“Adrien? Is everything okay?” Marinette frowned, noticing his change in body language.

“Yeah, um… Can I talk to you for a second?” He looked up at her.

“What a great idea!” Alya pushed Marinette towards Adrien before hooking her arm through Nino’s and starting to go down the stairs. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

Marinette thought she heard her add “Can you believe they might get together over an April Fool’s joke?”, as she waved them off absentmindedly, but her gaze met Adrien’s troubled one and she decided she’d deal with her best friend later.

“What’s up?” She asked, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks; the adrenaline from succeeding her challenge was evidently starting to wear off.

“What’s this?” Adrien asked cautiously, handing her the fish.

Marinette took it cautiously, saw the pattern, and smiled. “It’s a poisson-chat noir,” she said proudly. It was a bit of a shame she’d picked that one for Adrien, but she guessed she couldn’t have kept it for her partner anyway, given that she’d signed it. Still, she thought he would have liked the joke. Especially if it came from Ladybug.

“How did you know?” he murmured, looking at her incredulously. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows at his cryptidness. He explicited his thoughts. “I saw the fish you gave Alya and Nino, and the one you managed to pin on Chloé; they were all references to their superhero selves. And now you get this one right as well… How did you know?”

It was Marinette’s turn to freeze and feel the colour draining from her cheeks. “I… I didn’t. I picked one randomly when I saw an opening.”

“Oh.” She saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s brain while she felt her own shut down, still processing one important piece of information.

“Adrien… Are you Chat Noir?”

“Um… Poisson d’avril?” He ventured.

“Adrien.” She repeated sternly.

“Okay, fine, you got me.” Adrien huffed, raking a hand through his hair. “Please, don’t tell Ladybug.” He pleaded.

“Too late, I’m afraid.” She dug out her poisson-Ladybug and taped it to herself. She saw Adrien’s eyes grow as wide as his smile before being engulfed in a hug and feeling his lips on her forehead. “Kwami, we really might get together over an April Fool’s joke,” she muttered against his chest. If the heat she felt at the tip of her ears said anything, she probably was as red as Ladybug’s costume, and it probably wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“What was that?” Adrien pulled out a little from their hug to look at her.

“Nothing.” She smiled, and took his hand. “Now come on Chaton, we have some things to discuss, and we should probably go somewhere more private.”

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, my Lady.” He picked their entwined hands and kissed hers.

Really, she thought as they made their way towards her parents’ boulangerie, she loved poissons d’avril.

[stemgaysupreme]

On Carrying Capacity - A Critical Role Math Problem

I’ve been getting kind of annoyed (read: extremely anxious about the m9′s survival) every time Matt doesn’t let a polymorphed giant eagle or giant owl carry three party members (one of which is Veth) without their speed being halved, so I wanted to do some digging on the rules for carrying capacity and see if Veth’s weight was actually pushing the party over the max the creature could carry at full speed. After I did all of this I really felt the need to share it so... Here you go...?

I’ll go into specifics of things under the cut but for those who just want to know the answer, technically a giant eagle’s max carrying capacity is 480lbs and a giant owl’s is 390 lbs. Based on some math and some guessing of some character weights, the party, excluding the polymorphed Caleb and Jester, can be split with Yasha and Fjord on one bird and Caduceus, Beau, and Veth on the other and have their total weights be 386lbs and 380lbs respectively. 

Even if they were playing with the variant encumbrance rules (explained under the cut) their speeds would only drop by 20 feet rather that be halved, so the eagle would still be going 60 feet/round and the owl would be going 40 feet/round rather than 40 and 30. Heck, if they’re eagles, as long as Veth is on the bird with three people, they would both be able to do 60 feet/round. But I SERIOUSLY doubt they’re using encumbrance because, if they were, heavily encumbered creatures (like the birds would likely be when Matt halves their speed) would have disadvantage on all Dex, Str, and Con ability checks, attack rolls, and saving throws. So, really, if they aren’t playing with encumbrance, either they should be half speed when only carrying two people, or they should still be at full speed when carrying three people.

TL;DR: Matt, please, either let them fly faster, or tell me what the rules you’re using are.

I broke this up into sections so that if you already know the rules of carrying weight, or don’t care how I got character weights, you don’t have to read that bit.

Carrying Weight Rules

Ok, so, first things first, how much are these birds supposed to be able to carry? Well, the player’s handbook says a medium creature’s max carrying weight is 15 times their strength score, and twice that amount for a large creature (which is what the birds are) so we get

Giant Eagle (STR: 16) : 16 x 15 x 2 = 480lbs

Giant Owl (STR: 13) :  13 x 15 x 2 = 390lbs

If they are using the encumbrance variant rule, they either become “heavily encumbered” at 10 times their strength score, or 20 times, depending on whether you interpret the rules to say that this value is doubled for large creatures or not. This doesn’t really matter for us because, either way, even just two party members usually means they would be considered heavily encumbered, meaning their speed would decrease by 20 feet, and they  would have disadvantage on all Dex, Str, and Con ability checks, attack rolls, and saving throws. 

Important to note: I couldn’t find any rule that had a creature’s speed cut in half due to carrying weight, but if someone knows of one, let me know, as if it exists, it’s likely what Matt is using, though I suspect he is just making it up (WHICH IS 1000000% VALID)

Character Weights

Some character weights were much easier to find than others, and honestly, all but one is an estimation, but in general, I followed the same process. 

1. How tall are they? - While some characters have their exact heights, others are guesses, and a few are basically me saying “I swear I remember so-and-so saying they were this tall in-game”

The exact heights (from Crit Role Stats) are: 

- Yasha at 5′11″

- Veth at 3′6″

The “I swear  I remember so-and-so saying they were this tall in-game” ones are:

- Caduceus at 7′0″ (the fandom wiki backs me up on this one)

- Beau at 5′5″ (It’s either this or 5′4″ I think, but I went with this)

The only true guess:

- Fjord at 6′0″ (Fjord thinks he’s not very big but Ashley insisted on Talks once that Yasha was shorter than Fjord so this is the best compromise I had)

I didn’t bother with doing Caleb or Jester because, well, they’re the owls usually.

Shoutout to Crit Role Stats for existing and having like, half the character’s heights. If a height or weight seems off, I’m sorry, I did what I could to get a good guess. If there is a CONFIRMED height/weight that I don’t have here, let me know! But if you think Jester is an inch taller or shorter than what I have, I don’t know what to tell you other than “sorry???”

2. What is their race’s average weight for their height? - This is the most math intensive part of all this, but it’s not too bad. Each race has a base height, base weight, height modifier, and weight modifier. The base height and weight are just numbers, so for humans their base height is 4′8″ and their base weight is 110lbs. The modifiers are determined by rolling dice associated with the race, so for humans their height modifier is 2d10 and their weight modifier is 2d4. Your final height would be the base height plus the number you rolled for your height modifier in inches. Then, your final weight would be the base weight plus your height modifier times your weight modifier. By knowing the base heights of each character’s race, and having their height, we can find their height modifier, and use that to determine their maximum and minimum weights, and use those to get their average weight. This is a lot of information, so I made a chart for it

A note on Halflings: Turns out, Halflings are one of the races (others being Gnomes, Goblins, and Kobolds) that don’t multiply their height modifier by anything when applying it to their weight.

3. Adjusting for body type - Based on what we know about these characters, some of the average weights just don’t feel right, so I ended up changing some of them.

- Veth: I left hers as is because Halflings always have a weight modifier of one.

- Yasha: I left hers alone as well because it feels pretty good for a buff barbarian. She’s all muscle.

- Beau: I took her weight down because, as a 5′5″/5′6″ ish woman, I really don’t think someone built for speed and agility is going to be 155 pounds. I guessed roughly 130lbs, though it could be closer to 140lbs, I have never been the owner of a six pack, so I don’t entirely know how much weight that much muscle adds.

- Caduceus: Once again I’m going to mention that the fandom wiki backs me up here by saying that Caduceus is “not necessarily healthily thin” so I took him down to 210lbs. I probably could’ve gone down even a bit more but opted to play it safe to balance out any issues with Beau’s weight.

- Fjord: He’s a notoriously small dude, no way he’s 238 pounds, and given how large his possible weight range is, and his less than impressive strength score, I bumped him down to 195 which seems fair for a guy that’s 6 feet tall, but when you compare it to Yasha, either hers is too high, or his is, but since all of my adjustments are decreases from the average, I’m hesitant to lower either any more.

4. Final Weights - After all that,  we’ve got the party sitting at the following weight approximations:

Yasha - 185lbs

Beau - 130lbs

Caduceus - 210lbs

Fjord - 195lbs

Veth - 46lbs

Putting It All Together

As it turns out, based on these weights, Fjord and Yasha combine to be just six pounds lighter than Veth, Cad, and Beau combined at 380lbs versus 386lbs. In fact, this combination is the only way both groups stay under the girant owl’s maximum carrying capacity of 390lbs. So effectively what this means is if Caduceus has ever been on a giant owl with Fjord or Yasha, the owl shouldn’t have been able to move. That is important. Because if Caduceus has ever been on an owl with Fjord or Yasha, it means that the determining factor of whether or not a giant bird can fly is not the total weight it is carrying, rather it is the number of people it is carrying.

Personally, the best part of this whole thing is knowing that they combination they used at the start of c2e124 was one of only a few that wouldn’t allow both eagles to move at full speed. 

Also, when it comes to encumbrance rules, all of the combinations still only reduce speed by 20 feet per round, so even with those rules they would be going faster than Matt is allowing. 

And One More Thing

I did this because I found it interesting, not because the way Matt is doing things is “wrong” or something. He gets to decide. End of story. But in the case that Matt doesn’t know (lol Matt Mercer not knowing every DnD rule ever? wild) what the rules “technically” are, then I’d love it if he found out and changed how he ran things. 

Basically I’m saying don’t start fandom discourse with my fun DnD math problem. I did it for me and anyone else that cares, and Matt can do what he wants. For all I know I’ve gotten a character weight wrong and it completely ruins the entire thing.

[sociallyawkwardfoxwriter]

Empire Siblings and Feeblemind?

This was an absolute gift to receive! What an absolutely incredible combination for some Empire Sibs hurt/comfort. I had an amazing time writing this.

Hope you enjoy!

Every punch and kick caused Beau's injuries to tug painfully, but she didn't let that stop her from unloading on the pathetic excuse of a man struggling to stay on his feet. The entire battle her singular focus had been doing everything in her power to keep him locked down. No matter where he went, she followed immediately after him and did her best to stay between him and Caleb. She trusted the rest of the Nein to deal with the other while she put Ikithon in the ground.

In the middle of pulling her arm back for her next series of strikes, his shaking hands lifted to cast a spell that went flying under her raised arm. A yellow toothed grin told her the spell hit the target, but she didn't have the time to consider the implications of that. Her first hit stunned the beaten body allowing her to get three more punches off. As her fist slammed into his temple, his body began to crumple from the stress of her blows. A palm strike to the center of his chest cracked a number of ribs making it easy for her next punch to do significant damage to the organs underneath.

When he could do nothing more than gasp desperately for air and cough up blood, she circled around him to get a secure hold on his head. After turning him to see the broken bodies of his Scourgers around the battlefield, Beau tightened her hold to keep him in place. Without the sounds of battle filling the air, her voice remained low and deadly as she hissed out the final words he would here.

"Is this what you imagined? I hope it was all worth it because you'll be paying for it beyond today." Before he could gurgle out a response, the snap of his neck breaking echoed across the battlefield.

She pushed the body unceremoniously to the ground to deal with properly later, then looked for Caleb among the few people still standing. With every new person she passed over that wasn't him, the worry gnawing at her gut began to grow. A kneeling figure with their head tucked between their legs had her moving before she could completely process the red hair and wizard's robes. While she planned to drop to her knees next to him, Beau pulled up short when wild eyes looked up at her in fear. Caleb started to scramble backwards, until recognition finally shone in his eyes.

A pathetic whimper fell from his trembling lips as he launched forward to grab onto Beau with shaking hands. He clung so hard to her that she could feel her skin bruising from it, but the fear in his eyes kept her from forcing him to let go. When the nonsensical babbling started, the last spell Ikithon cast clicked in her head.

"Fuck!" Her harsh tone caused Caleb to pull back from her in fear, until she gently placed her hand on his upper arm. "Not you. You're fine. You can't even understand me, but you're fine. We are going to find Jester and Cad. They can help. Just..."

After a moment of indecision, she guided Caleb's hand to her sash and waited patiently for him to catch on that she expected him to hold onto it. Once she was sure he wouldn't immediately release it, all her focus went to locating their two clerics. With the others grouped together, it made it easy for Beau to decide where she would lead the two of them. Despite giving him something with slack, Caleb stuck as close as possible to her on the short walk to join the other. Instead of finding comfort in the familiarity of their group, Caleb shifted behind her and clung to the back of her coat.

The strange behavior immediately drew the others attention, which led to Caleb pressing his face into her spine. She could feel his accelerated breathing, but it didn't reach the levels of a full blown panic attack. With that small assurance, she turned her attention to the two clerics.

"Ikithon used Feeblemind on him. Please tell me one of you has Greater Restoration prepared."

Jester shook her head apologetically, then looked to Caduceus who had a small frown on his face. "I did, but I do not have the ability to use it. I need rest."

"So, he's going to have to deal with this for one night?"

"I am afraid so. We should find a safe place to settle for the evening."

"Right. Okay."

Slowly as possible, Beau turned to face Caleb and took both his hands in hers. When his wide eyes stared at her, Beau gave a shake of her head and lightly squeezed his hands. Caleb looked down at his feet with his eyebrows wrinkled up in confusion, then looked back up her. The beginning of tears bubbling in his eyes had her immediately pulling him in for a tight hug. He clung so desperately to her that she felt every tremor run through his body.

Once he decided to pull away, she ran a hand through his messy hair and took a hand that she held up between them. "I have you."

Even though she knew he didn't understand her words, his nod gave her some semblance of hope that the meaning of her words came across. With his hand in hers, they followed behind the rest of the party, until they reached a decent location to camp for the night. Instead of going through his normal routine, Caduceus immediately set out his bedroll and went to sleep-completely unbothered by the others setting up camp. Beau also forewent helping in favor of assisting Caleb with setting out his bedroll and getting him out of his jacket and harness. His hands reached up to stop her when she reached for the harness clasp, until she held up her fist and did a few mock punches.

Once Caleb was settled down, his eyes looked unexpectedly at her, then he motioned to her bag. She placed her bedroll down beside his, which earned her a satisfied smile from the man sitting across from her. It took every ounce of self-control not to roll her eyes like she normally would at his little intricacies that they both knew she grew fond of. Instead, she nudged his shoulder to get him to turn around, and began fixing his hair for him. Rather than the usual low ponytail, she braided it and tied it off with a blue bow.

He tugged curiously at the end of it and held it up to his eyes causing them to go crossed in the process. When he grew disinterested in the bow, Caleb let the braid drop to his shoulder, then looked uncertainly around the camp. The smell of food seemed to draw his attention, but he quickly dropped his head to pick at his boots. With an inaudible sigh, Beau quietly rose to her feet to get them both a bowl of food. Before returning to him, she exchanged a quick look with everyone else to find the same concern in all their eyes.

Rather than simply handing it to him, Beau waved the bowl underneath his nose to draw his attention to her. His hands slowly reached for the bowl, then settled it in the circle of his crossed legs with a small smile. As usual Caleb took his time eating, except it wasn't because most of his focus was on his newest book. While there was still an underlying anxiety radiating off him, he appeared more content.

Once he finished, he set the bowl aside and curled up on top of his bedroll like a sleepy cat. After moving their bowls out of the way, she followed suit, but her restless mind didn't let her sleep. The press of a body against hers finally convinced her to give up her poor attempt. She wrapped her arms around Caleb as she stared up at the stars overhead.

Hours past with nothing more than the steady sound of Caleb breathing and the wildlife to keep her company. The first signs of the sun crusting over the horizon colored the sky when the sounds of footsteps met her ears. Caduceus came into her field of vision as he knelt down next to Caleb and pressed a large hand against his back. A breeze from the Wildmother swirled around them, then slowly died down when Caduceus finished the spell.

"Thanks."

"You should sleep. He is in safe hands."

"Yeah, keep an eye on him when he wakes up."

"We will." Instead of returning to his bedroll, Caduceus sat with his legs crossed near enough to easily reach Caleb. "Rest now. You have earned it."

After a quick nod, she readjusted to a more comfortable position and buried her face in Caleb's hair to block out the rising sun. His fingers flexed against her back for a moment, but he gave no other sigh of waking. As she let her eyes fall shut, a sudden exhaustion hit her hard sending her immediately into a deep sleep.

[agerefandom]

Books and Pigments

(art by @sparrowinged​, story written for @sparrowinged​)

Fandom: Critical Role

Characters: Regressor!Caleb, regressor!Jester, featuring Mama!Nott, caregiver!Ford, and the rest of the Mighty Nein in the background (Beau, Yasha, and Molly)

Words: 3,000

Summary: Upstairs, Jester gives Caleb a bath and they both find the process nostalgic. Downstairs, the others discuss ‘somechildren,’ people who never fully grow up. They’re well-known in Wildemount, but much more accepted on the Menagerie Coast.

Content warnings: ‘Little’ is used as an adjective, but not a noun. Caleb’s backstory is briefly alluded to, as is memory loss from trauma. There is drinking (done by adults). Nott is considered a mother and is referred to as such.

Note: I’m only on episode 47, please excuse any backstory gaps!

Nott was the last to join the table, crawling onto a chair and grabbing a drink that was already on the table, downing most of it in one go.

“Nott!” Molly greeted her from the other side of the table, raising his own tankard to her. “Are the others not coming?”

“Jester has insisted on giving Caleb a bath,” Nott said once she was finished with her beer. “I left him in her capable hands.”

“Capable at many things,” Fjord pointed out. “I hope she’s feeling kind this evening, or Caleb may be in trouble.”

“He’ll be fine.” Nott crawled partly onto the table to drag a plate of meat towards herself, tucking some of it into her pockets. “He does have magic, after all.”

“So does Jester,” Beau said from across the table. Nott flapped a hand at her dismissively.

“Caleb is better.”

“Okay, but if the two of them were in a fight,” Beau started, leaning forwards.

“Jester would win,” Yasha finished.

Nott glared at them both, crossing her arms. “You don’t have enough faith in him,” she said reproachfully. “He’s a very powerful wizard!”

“Yeah, but have you seen Jester’s biceps?” Beau asked.

Nott gave up on the battle in the interest of fitting as much ham as possible into her mouth, and the conversation moved onto arm wrestling shortly after that, shifting with the usual chaos of the Mighty Nein’s evenings off.

--

Meanwhile, upstairs:

Jester was gentler than Caleb had expected, double-checking the temperature of the water and adding another half-bucket before gesturing for Caleb to undress. She hovered around him, snatching his clothes as he removed them and folding them to lie on the bench by the door. Once he was naked, she ushered him towards the washtub.

Sure enough, the water was perfect as Caleb sank into it, not hot enough to scald but warm enough to turn his pale skin rosy as it met the surface.

“Look at your freckles!” Jester cooed, poking Caleb’s shoulders as she bustled around him, preparing the soaps. Caleb hunched forward, self-conscious despite himself. They had all been in the public baths together, and had helped each other with their armour many times. Nevertheless, he was aware of his scars and spots, and didn’t appreciate Jester’s wandering hands.

“Relax,” Jester ordered, as if sensing Caleb’s wandering thoughts. “I am a good girl, I can keep my hands on task.” This was apparently all the warning she deemed necessary before dumping a bucket of lukewarm water over Caleb’s head, plastering his hair over his face until he spat it out of his mouth and tried to push it back.

“Leave it!” Jester’s hands batted Caleb’s away, and she guided him to lean against the edge of the washtub, combing his hair back with sudsy hands. “You’ll just get it more dirty with your stinky fingers.” Caleb was about to protest her wording when she started to dig her fingers into his scalp, and he abruptly found himself melting into the touch. He had not had someone else wash his hair for a very long time, not since far into his childhood. He closed his eyes, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to chase the memories or push them away. Parts of his childhood had been missing when he’d returned to himself, gaps in his memory that led to disorienting echoes like Jester’s fingers in his hair. Jester’s voice brought him back from the confusion, humming a quiet tune that Caleb did not recognize.

Caleb found himself drifting through the rest of the bath, with Jester’s hands shielding his eyes from the suds she rinsed out of his hair, guiding him from position to position so that she could rub sweet-smelling lotions into his hair, his cheeks, his back. She even washed the bottoms of his feet before smearing a handful of soap into his palm and gesturing for him to finish the rest of his body. Through every motion, her humming got louder, until she was singing little pieces of foreign songs to herself as she brought over the final bucket of water.

The washing water had become quite dirty, and Jester rinsed Caleb’s body with the last fresh water as he stood up from the tub. She wrapped a soft blanket around him and tugged him out of the bath with a giggle. Caleb followed where she led, feeling pleasantly distant and oddly content.

Jester sat him on a stool and started to comb out his hair, making tiny braids as she sang those little snatches of simple but unfamiliar songs.

Jester had been singing for long enough that her speaking voice almost startled Caleb when she put down the comb. “Do you want to take a nap?” She ran her hands through his hair. “Or I could give you a haircut.”

“Nap,” Caleb said quickly. It was the preferable of the two options: Jester had been gentle enough with the comb, but he didn’t want to test their luck with a sharp blade near his ears. “Nap is good.”

“Naps are the best,” Jester corrected, pulling Caleb off the stool and towards the door without sparing a glance at his clothes. “Come on, let’s go!”

“Clothes,” Caleb managed to protest.

“Who needs clothes?”

“Me!” Caleb managed to pull his wrist free of Jester’s grasp and scoop up his abandoned clothes with one arm. His outer layers and everything important were back in his room, but he didn’t want to leave things in the bath room to get taken.

“We’ll get fresh clothes in your room, but I want to nap in my bed,” Jester said, in a tone that invited no challenges. Caleb nodded and followed her down the hallway, watching Jester’s skirts swish as she skipped past each door, her tail bobbing behind her. She stopped outside of Caleb and Nott’s room, gesturing for Caleb to go in and get changed. Caleb wandered into the room, sat down on the bed, and decided that he didn’t want to get up. The warm water of the bath and the gentle washing had made him too sleepy, and there was no way he was budging.

“Caaaaleb,” Jester whined from the doorway. “I want to go to my room!” Caleb ignored her, leaning back on the mattress and wrapping his blanket tighter around him. It was soft and perfect and he wasn’t leaving, no matter how loudly Jester protested. “Caaaaleb!!” Although her voice was rather disturbing the tranquility of the room. “Nap in my room! Get your clothes!”

With a huff, Caleb rolled sideways off the bed and managed to collect a few items of clothing, stumbling towards Jester in the doorway and accepting the hand she had stretched out towards him. She pulled him down the hallway and into the room that the girls shared, shutting the door behind them before jumping at the double bed with an impressive leap and rolling across it in a blur of petticoats and skirts.

“Sleepover, Caleb!” Jester popped back up to sitting, and patted the bed beside her enthusiastically. Caleb wandered over and she pulled him down on the mattress with a little more force than necessary. It was very comfortable, Caleb acknowledged. Maybe even more comfortable than the bed in his room. He wiggled back and forth to get himself properly wrapped up in his blanket, and then let his head rest against the covers of the bed. Jester was arranging herself beside him, wrapping one arm over his swaddled side and pulling him back against her. She was inhumanly warm, impossibly cozy, and as she started to hum a quiet song, Caleb felt his eyes drifting closed.

--

“Oh, that was nothing, remember the time that she decided to drop a box of manure on that priest of the Allhammer?”

“Classic!”

“Y’all think Jester is a troublemaker now, you should see her when she’s feeling little,” Fjord offered to the discussion. “No one is safe.”

“Jester’s a somechild?” Molly asked, leaning forwards. “I’m surprised I didn’t realize sooner.”

“Oh yeah. She isn’t little often.” Fjord finished his drink and wiggled it in the air for a refill. “Sweetest thing but a handful for anyone. I met her when she was little, actually.”

“Are somechildren more common where you come from?” Nott asked.

“Yeah, the Menagerie Coast is a lot better about them,” Fjord said. “Nicodranas has a whole district dedicated to them, and it’s the loudest part of the city. Empire kids come there all the time for a break, I hear.”  

“Most of the Empire’s not big on them,” Beau confirmed. “Never understood why, I think they’re sweet. And it doesn’t stop Jester from being the most badass tiefling I’ve ever met—no offence, Molly.”

“Jester can have the baddest ass as long as I have the sweetest,” Mollymauk laughed. “Also, I bet I could take Jester in a fight.” Beau made a doubtful sound. “What, don’t believe me? I’ll go and get her now, settle it here.”

“Fuck yeah!” Beau sprang to her feet. “I’ll come with you and get her.”

“Two gold on Molly,” Nott muttered to Fjord.

“I’ll take that bet. He’s gonna go easy on her.”

“You clearly don’t know him well enough,” Yasha interjected. “He doesn’t go easy on anyone over the age of fifteen.”

“Either way, I think we’ll be spending our bet money repairing the bar if we don’t convince them to take it outside,” Fjord pointed out, and made to follow the two who’d already left. The others brought their drinks, but trailed obediently up the stairs to watch the outcome.

--

“They only need to drink every few days, and retrieve much of their hydration from the plant matter they consume.” Jester giggled at Caleb’s fancy words, focused on the drawing that she was working on. “They can eat up to seventy-five stones worth of vegetation in a single day, but do not kill the trees they feed on.”

“They eat stones?” Jester asked, reaching for a different colour.

“Nein!” Caleb laughed. “Die bäume! Leaves!”

“Ohhhh.” Jester added a rock anyways in the grass. “Keep reading!”

“Um… The trees of the area are best known for their wide leaves, and their layered appearance.” Caleb’s voice was different when he was reading, his accent lighter with the care he used in pronouncing each word. Jester looked critically at the tree she had already drawn and was about to start on another one when the door opened.

“Here they are!” Molly’s voice came from behind her.

Jester turned with a smile, putting down the stick of pigment that she had been using to draw. “Hi Molly! Caleb is teaching me about South Marquet! Have you ever seen a giraffe?”

“Can’t say that I have, sweetheart.” Molly leaned himself against the doorframe, all sparkly and pretty. Jester wanted to draw a star on his cheek, but she would have to wait until he was asleep, probably. “Have you?”

“I saw one in a cage once! It looked like this!” Jester showed Molly her drawing.

“Hmm, that’s pretty neat.” Molly came closer to look at it. “You’re a very good artist, Jester.”

“I know I am!” Jester had to lean around Molly’s legs to look at Caleb. He was curled up on the bed with a pile of blankets around him, a big book open on his lap. He’d stopped reading when Molly came in and now he looked like he was trying to hide himself in the blankets. “Caleb, what are you doing?”

Jester received no answer, only a muffled squeak from the pile of blankets. She pushed herself to her feet, ready to go extract her friend from his hiding place, but Fjord walked in the door and she froze, tucking her hands behind her back and puffing out her chest.

Fjord’s gaze travelled over the room before landing on her, and he sighed. “Jester, you know you’re supposed to come and find me when you’re little.”

“I’m not!” Jester protested. “I’m big!”

“Uh-huh. Because I know for a fact that big Jester wouldn’t be very happy to get pigment all over her nice blue dress, and tends to use paper like a big girl, and not draw on the walls of an inn that she’ll have to pay for.” Jester glanced back at her drawing, which was indeed on the wall of the room.

“That was Caleb,” she tried. “I didn’t do it.”

“Oh.” Fjord nodded understandingly. “And did he get pigments on your dress as well?”

“Yep!” Jester bobbed her head. Thank goodness, he was going for it! Maybe Caleb would get in trouble and she would get to watch.

“Alright.” Fjord got really close to her, all unfairly tall and wide and green. “Let me see your hands.” Jester hesitated, but when Fjord put his hands out, palms-up, she obediently put her hands into his. He traced the lines of colour on her palms, showing where she had held the sticks of pigment. “That’s what I thought.” He dropped Jester’s hands and she hunched her shoulders, embarrassed at being caught in the lie. It wasn’t her fault! Fjord was just really smart. That was why he was going to the Academy when they got there!

“You ready to be honest with me?” Jester nodded her head wordlessly. “That’s good. Are you little, Jester?” Jester couldn’t help pouting at the question, but she nodded anyways. “Thank you. And why are you supposed to come and get me when you’re little?”

“Cause it’s dangerous,” Jester sighed. “And I could get hurt.”

“That’s right.” Fjord put a hand on the top of her head, right between her curved horns. “We’re visiting the Empire right now, and they aren’t as friendly as in Nicodranas, so it’s important to stick close.”

“Okay.” She didn’t know why they were visiting the stupid Empire anyways when people in Nicodranas were so much more fun. Stupid Empire. Stupid Fjord.

“Where’s Caleb gone, anyways?”

Jester lifted her head to see that Molly had left the room at some point, and Caleb had effectively hidden himself in the blankets, with only the still-open book poking out from the pile.

“He’s playing hide and seek!” She shook off Fjord’s hand and bounced towards the bed. “Caaaleb, I’m coming to find you!” Caleb stayed quiet, but Jester knew where he was. She pounced on the pile and sure enough it squirmed underneath her, trying to push her off.

“Lass den Quatsch!!” she heard Caleb protesting, and she rolled off with a giggle, helping him remove the blankets. Once Caleb was revealed, he was pouting, his hair a staticky mess from the struggle.

“Found you!” Jester pulled him in for a hug and he allowed it, wrapping his arms back around her. When she finally released him, he wriggled backwards into the blanket pile again, pulling one around his shoulders. Caleb sure liked blankets a lot!

Jester glanced over her shoulder at Fjord, who was watching them curiously without saying anything.

“Do you want to play with us? You can hide next if you want!”

Caleb made a sound like a deflating balloon and flopped forwards, his blanket covering his head.

“Stop that!” Jester pulled him back up to sitting. “You’re not supposed to hide anymore, I found you.” Caleb whined, tugging against Jester’s grasp on his blanket.

“Caleb?” Nott appeared in the doorway as if summoned by the noise, and was pushing Jester away before she could even blink.

“Hey!” Jester protested, trying to get back to Caleb.

“You were hurting him!” Nott accused, standing between them. She was eye-level with Jester like this, with Jester kneeling on the bed, and she looked super mad and scary.

“I wasn’t! He was hiding!”

“Mama?” Caleb’s voice was quiet, but Nott immediately turned to him. “She’s nice.”

“Okay. I believe you.” Nott gave Jester a second look, still not looking very friendly, and then swept Caleb up in a hug, her arms and legs wrapping around his shoulders and torso. Caleb buried his nose in her shoulder, and Jester subsided onto her butt, letting them have their moment.

“Do you want me to send them away?” Nott asked, her voice quiet. Jester was still close enough to hear the question.

Caleb shook his head, and Nott detached from him, lowering her feet to the mattress and keeping one hand on Caleb’s cheek. “Okay.”

“I understand why you were asking about the Menagerie Coast now,” Fjord said from behind them. “Didn’t realize you were a caregiver.”

“Mother,” Nott corrected him, stroking clawed fingers through Caleb’s newly clean and shiny hair. “I did tell you that he was my boy.”

“Right, right.” Fjord nodded. “I’m sorry for intruding, I didn’t know he and Jester were playing together.”

“He was telling me about giraffes!” Jester said, pointing to her art again.

“He’s a very clever boy, isn’t he?” Nott sounded proud. Jester thought she was probably a really good mom. She could tell those kinds of things about people.

“He can read all kinds of books and he doesn’t even sound really funny most of the time when he’s reading!” Jester said. Caleb made a ‘hmph’ sound. “I mean, he doesn’t sound funny at all ever!” she added. “He’s really smart.”

Caleb’s hands reached for the book, pulling it onto his lap and hugging it to his chest.

“Would you read to me again?” Jester asked, scooting forwards on the bed. “I was really enjoying it.”

“Do you want some paper for your illustrations this time?” Fjord asked, already holding it out in her direction.

“Yeah!” Jester stretched her arms out and waited for Fjord to bring it over. “I can make you more pictures!”

“Mm-hm.” Caleb opened the book and spent a few seconds flicking through the pages before settling on one, looking up and waiting for everyone to settle down. Fjord closed the door and took a seat on the floor by the bed once Jester’s paper had been delivered, joining the audience for Caleb’s story. Caleb glanced nervously at him, and then up at Nott standing beside him.

“You are very good at reading,” Nott told him. “But you don’t have to.”

Caleb cleared his throat, put one finger under the line he was reading, and started again. “The trees in the region are best known for their wide leaves and layered appearance.” Jester started on her drawing, all four of them settling in for an unplanned quiet evening.

[megabees]

a lack of closure

a brief drabble exploring yasha's thoughts as they decided to visit molly's grave. also, beauyasha. find it below or on my ao3

Caleb mentions visiting Molly, and Yasha’s breath catches in her throat. It’s been so long since she’s seen him, and she’s a completely different person now. Wings. Forgiveness. Atonement.

Last time she saw Molly alive, her second soulmate, she was being taken away in a cart and he was choking on his own blood.

There’s no closure on that. He’s not even the first line of the endless list of those whose deaths she has contributed to, but he died trying to save her.

How do you process that?

Caleb doesn’t seem to get it. Surrounded by his own trauma constantly, he seems to be unable to forgive and forget. Every moment of his very being reminds Yasha of wandering before she got to the circus, thinking of Zuala every hour, blaming herself and self-flagellating for a death she couldn’t prevent.

At the circus, Molly saved her.

She couldn’t save him when it came down to it.

The conversation keeps going, and Yasha doesn’t know how to say what she needs to say.

She’s never been good with words, with advocating for herself.

She can’t look at these people and say “actually we can’t go get the next step of this because I don’t feel comfortable. I don’t want to see his dead body. Or even worse, what if he’s not there? What if he’s not there and he never came back for me?”

She’s afraid to see what’s in that grave, or even worse, what’s not.

All she can do is look distressed and hope that someone picks up on the fact that she’s upset.

Beau does, of course. Yasha’s been looking at Beau a little different since she got her mind back, but there’s still an element of fear there.

She lets herself relish in the small moments. The library, flying, any time Yasha gets to just be near her.

Does she even deserve to love again?

Beau is too good for her. She’s smart, and gorgeous, and Yasha is riddled with so much death. Why would Beau ever want Yasha?

When Yasha came back, (and to be fair, her mind wasn’t okay for a while) it seemed as if Beau had something going with Jester. Some form of adoration in her eyes.

Yasha had almost given up after that.

But it seems like Beau might be reciprocating now? They’ve been having moments. She even ate a bug last night in Caleb’s tower.

Even now, Beau is pushing back at Caleb’s insistence that they return to the grave with an abandon Yasha could never think of trying. She’s clocked Yasha’s discomfort, and it seems like she might be matching it.

No one got as close to Molly as the two of them. No one understood him like they did. He and Beau, they were assholes together. He and Yasha, they were kindred spirits. He was her other half.

Caleb and Nott. Fjord and Jester. Caleb and Beau. Veth and Jester. Caduceus and Fjord. Beau and Jester.

Sometimes, Yasha feels like she’s a seventh wheel in the Mighty Nein. The quiet one. Silent and stoic. Everyone else pairs up so easily, but Yasha’s pair has been missing.

Maybe Beau could be that pair someday. Molly would like that.

His Unpleasant One and His Charm, together. On the seas, pirating and basking in the sun and storms. The gentle crash of waves against the side of the ship.

That’s far in the future, though. Right now, it seems Beau has lost the argument and they’re headed to Molly’s grave.

Yasha steels herself, and they arrive. It’s muddy and raining, without the comfort of thunder or lightning. Almost as if the clouds can see the tears threatening to escape from her face, seeing his grave unmarked.

Beau grabs her hand. Yasha squeezes it back. Veth finds his coat. Jester scries.

Molly’s not there. He’s in the snow with Cree. Most likely no memory, of the Nein, and especially of Yasha.

The lump in Yasha’s throat finally breaks, allowing her to speak, to acknowledge what she had known all along but had hoped was untrue.

A faint whisper, before she falls to her knees to sob, makeup running with the rain.

“I knew he wouldn’t be here. He forgot me.”

Despite being surrounded by her new family, Yasha feels desperately alone.

[ethereousdelirious]

Flushed cheeks with Caleb Widogast, please?

I decided to go for a modern AU for this one 😗 Hints of Sh.adowgast + wingmanning B.eau

The cold wind, carrying the scent of straw, bit right through Caleb's careworn winter coat. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to fend off the chill. The breeze sent his hair flying into his face and he reluctantly extricated one hand, then the other, to try to sweep the strands out of his face.

"You need a hair tie?" Beau asked, noticing his distress. Though her arms were bare, she showed no sign of discomfort at the cold.

Caleb raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you have one?"

"Yeah, I got like three. Hang on." She started to dig around in her pockets. "What a shitty day to be outside."

"Ja," Caleb agreed, sniffling and swiping at his nose. The cold air always made his nose run. 

"Here you go." Beau handed Caleb a hair tie and he wasted no time pulling his hair up. "Man, what's taking Essek so long?"

Caleb checked his phone, sighing when he saw that he had no new notifications. "He didn't have to come pick us up, you know."

"What's the point of having a friend with a car if he can't even drive 15 minutes out of town to rescue us from the wilderness?" Beau demanded.

"I hardly think this," Caleb gestured at the farmlands behind them, "counts as the wilderness." Another gust of wind blew, and he shuddered, bouncing on his toes.

"You freezing? Beau asked.

"Close to it."

She laughed and pointed to one of the apple trees in the distance. "Your cheeks are that color."

"Green?" Caleb asked, just to be contrary.

Beau was not deterred. "Bright red!"

"Essek is here," Cakeb said, secretly grateful for his timing. "See?"

"Thank goodness," Beau said. "I'm freezing."

Essek pulled up in front of them and they piled into his car. Caleb was in no mood to fight for shotgun today, so he climbed directly into the back.

"Thank you, Essek," he said. "Today was evidently not the day to go out."

Essek looked at Beau, then at Caleb. "Where are the others?"

"They wanted to stay," Beau said. "How's your thesis or whatever going, by the way?"

"Ah." Essek started to drive. "Slowly."

"I'm sure we're not helping matters," Caleb said, then surprised himself by sneezing. He only just managed to get his face to his sleeve in time and somehow bit his tongue in the process.

"Is it too warm?" Essek asked.

Caleb just stared at him, lost. "Ah, no. It's not."

"Your face is flushed," Essek explained.

"Ja, it's windy outside and I am pale--"

"No, I mean--" Essek started.

Caleb sneezed again, anticipating it this time and managing to avoid any further damage to his mouth. "Oh."

"You would get sick from being out in the cold," Beau said, "like a Victorian-era orphan."

Caleb accepted the teasing, suddenly feeling wrung-out, like the cold had sapped the energy from his body. Essek's car, at least, was pleasantly warm and despite the persistent tickle in his nose, Caleb almost felt like he could fall asleep right there.

"Hey, Essek," Beau said, leaving Caleb be for the moment. "Why don't you come over? Jester and Nott made this awesome fort in the living room and Cad taught us all how to make spiced chai."

"I have work to do…" Essek said hesitantly.

"Come on, I bet you've been working nonstop since the last time we called you up for a ride."

"That was last night, at 3:00 am, because Jester insisted she needed a Slurpee."

"And you were awake," Beau said.

"Alright," Essek said. Caleb watched him in the rearview mirror, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road.

As they entered town, it started to rain. It was pouring by the time they reached the house. The three of them piled inside as quickly as they could. Caleb barely paused to kick off his shoes, before crawling inside the expanse of the blanket fort.

"Why don't you give Essek a tour?" Beau said.

"Of the blanket fort?" Caleb asked.

Essek gave a light grunt and appeared in the doorway of the blanket fort with speed, like he'd been pushed.

"Well," said Caleb. He sniffled and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Now that Beau and Essek had pointed out that he might be sick, he couldn't seem to stop noticing his persistently runny nose and the mild scratching at the back of his throat that flared up every time he swallowed. "Welcome to Castle Fancypants."

Essek turned away but did not succeed in hiding his smile. "Thank you." He looked around. "How do you all fit in here?"

"There's a lot of snuggling involved," Caleb admitted.

Essek's face fell and he looked distractedly at Caleb. "Your color hasn't improved."

"Do I really look that bad?" Caleb asked.

Essek gestured at his own face. "This part is pale," he drew his fingers along his brow and under his eyes, "and the rest is bright red. Do you feel feverish?"

Caleb considered this. "It's hard to say. The temperature difference between the outside and your car..."

"I suppose as long as you feel alright," Essek said.

"Just a bit tired. From the cold, I think." Caleb toyed with the end of his ponytail. "Where is Beau?"

"She went to the kitchen, I believe. I didn't see much before she threw me in here."

"I might, ah, go and look for her." Caleb shifted. The blanket fort was uncomfortably close. Essek was still on his hands and knees and nearly nose-to-nose with Caleb, who had just enough room to sit with his legs crossed.

"Of course." Essek sat back on his heels while Caleb awkwardly tried to maneuver around him. Their bodies touched. Caleb went hot all over as more and more of them came into contact. There just wasn't room to move without fully inserting himself in Essek's personal space.

Still, Caleb tried his best. He flinched when he accidentally put his hand on Essek's thigh and only succeeded in losing his balance. His forehead smacked into Essek's, but thankfully they were close enough in proximity that the impact wasn't painful.

Caleb pulled away immediately, but it was still enough time for Essek's face to darken.

"You're very warm. You're sure you're feeling alright?" Essek asked.

"For the moment, yes," Caleb said, and for the moment, it was true.

Beau came back after a few more moments with tea and snacks for all of them, talking over Caleb when he expressed suspicion at her sudden foray into politeness.

They let Essek pick the movie and then all bundled up together inside the fort.

Caleb, in the middle, expected to overheat, so he took his coat off before they all got settled. The tea sent a pleasant warmth through his chest, which vanished all too soon.

He tried not to shiver but after a while, he couldn't help it. He felt pathetic, shivering and sniffling like an abandoned dog, and it wasn't long before Beau and Essek noticed.

"You are sick!" Beau said.

Inexplicably, shame flooded Caleb's chest, followed shortly by irritation. "I'm having a nice time," he said.

"At least take some napkins so you can blow your nose," Beau said, stuffing a wad of paper towels into his lap.

Feeling self-conscious in a way he hadn't since he was a young boy, Caleb blew his nose and clenched the wadded up tissue in his fist. "Satisfied?"

"Sure."

They started the movie again and before too long, Caleb's eyelids grew heavy. Before he dropped off completely, he swore he felt Beau's hand on his face, pushing him closer to Essek.

--

Essek tried not to startle at the sudden weight of Caleb's head on his shoulder. Should he do something? It was kind of pleasant to have Caleb sleep on him.

Caleb's body was over-warm from fever, but the heat was pleasant. Essek felt relaxed in a way he hadn't in weeks. He'd been so busy with school and consuming so much caffeine that even when he had a moment to rest, he would lie awake for hours and only sleep fitfully.

Something about the blanket fort warded off the worst of his anxieties. Almost without realizing he was doing it, Essek rested his cheek against the top of Caleb's head and closed his eyes.

[lokishornns]

ok ok here we go- "Oh my GOD Loki what the fuck iS THAT?!" x loki

Intrusions

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masterlist

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send requests!!

pairing: loki x reader

rating: pg13

word count: 1,829

warnings: probably cursing, making out-ish?

notes: ok bye this is so bad

summary: An alien planet, an angry god, and red eyes make quite an interesting combination. Especially when there’s something unspoken between the two of you.

tags are open!

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“Okay, okay, okay. Stay calm. It’s just an alien planet; no biggie,” you mumble to yourself, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you rock back and forth. Your gaze is flickering as your breathing is unsteady.

“Can you please, for the love of the gods, shut up?” Loki hisses at you in the midst of his pacing, and your eyes meet his. You’re surprised to find some sort of fear in his irises before he looks away. You narrow your gaze.

“Whose fault is it that we are stuck on a fucking alien planet that is thriving with creatures who just can’t wait to tear my skin from my bones?” you whisper-shout at the god, panic creeping up your neck every time the wind shifts and blows a little harder. Loki’s head snaps to face you, preparing to say something before a loud shriek sounds in the distance.

What. The. Fuck.

“Loki,” you whisper, your breathing quickening and your voice losing all traces of rage. “Please get me out of here,” you whimper, your voice sounding whiny and pathetic, but at this point, you couldn’t care less about what your voice was sounding like. Loki, surprisingly enough, had no snarky remark to send your way, instead his eyes looking at you with something far more terrifying: concern.

Loki stops his pacing, his feet skidding on the gravel-like substance beneath your feet. He turns in a slow circle, surveying the area as if looking for something. You follow his line of sight, only finding thick wood, curling and groaning with different and odd assortments of plants.

“The stars will be out soon. I would normally suggest we stay here, but because of my unfamiliarity with this world,” Loki trails off, his eyes finally resting on your form that’s now beginning to shake. You looked to the sky, and sure enough, he was right. The sunlight was beginning to seep from the sky, brushstrokes of brilliant colors painted above. “Will you be able to walk?” His voice is softer than usual, and it takes you a moment to register his words.

Stupid, pretty Loki.

“Yeah,” you cringe at the tremble in your voice, “I think.” You unwrap your arms, using them to push you off of the ground, attempting to balance on unsteady legs. You brush yourself off, ignoring Loki’s stare. “See?” you send a tight smile to the god before stepping forward, your knees buckling in the process. A large hand wraps around your upper arm, pulling you up before you can slam on the ground.

“It would serve you good to use some brain cells of yours,” Loki bites, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Loki’s hands secure themselves on your forearms, forcing you to look at him. “Are you able to hold on to me? Don’t lie to me this time.”

“You mean on your back?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, uh.” You consider it briefly. Holding onto him? Being that close – especially after what happened last week – seemed problematic. But with the way you were functioning, it may be your only choice. You send him a stiff nod before he turns and crouches down, offering his back to you. You stare at the sweatshirt-clad back before your eyes briefly flick down to his ass.

He’s packing.

You climb onto his back, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck. You swear you feel a shiver run down his back, but you decide to ignore it. Loki hoists you up with little effort, his hands going to grasp onto the bottom of your thighs.

Hm, a walk down memory lane, you thought.

“Aren’t you tired?” you ask, your eyelids drooping, threatening to close at any moment. You peer at Loki who must’ve been walking for hours, yet he shows no sign of exhaustion. Darkness had taken over, only a weird moon left to shine down below, hardly being enough to light up your path.

How the fuck does he continue to look pretty after walking for miles?

“No. Crashing on an alien planet tends to take the need for sleep away from most people,” Loki says, and you hum, resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes reveling in the darkness your eyelids bring.

“Do you hate me?” you ask, the occasional bumping of Loki’s walking keeping you awake. You feel Loki tense underneath you and a slight hesitation in his steps. You pry open your eyes, giving a side glance to the god. His jaw is clenched tightly, and his eyes are averting their gaze from yours.

“Of course not,” he answers and your brows furrow.

“Then why did you ignore me?”

“Do we really have to discuss this issue now?” Loki grumbles, obviously annoyed by the topic.

“I don’t think there’s a better time. An alien planet, deathawaiting us with open arms. Quite romantic, wouldn’t you say?” In your sleepy haze, you seem to be quite a jester, trying to lighten the mood. Loki lets out a huff and it’s hard to distinguish if it’s a laugh or a sound of frustration. Loki is quiet for a moment before opening his mouth.

“I ignored you because what happened was a mistake.” Loki’s voice is quiet, quieter than it should be. His words strike your heart and for a moment you can’t breathe. You unwrap your arms, gripping Loki’s shoulders and pushing away. He lets go of you and you go tumbling unceremoniously to the ground, your back hitting what you could assume is a tree root. You wince.

“Mistake?” you ask, your voice doing a poor job of masking the pain. Loki’s back is still to you and you fight the urge to make him turn around. Your stomach churns, all of a sudden feeling nauseous. The thought ofLoki finding one make-out session so repulsive that he decided to ignore you for a full week makes your head pound. “Look at me,” you meant it more as a growl, but your heart clenches once you hear the pleading bleed through your voice.

Loki sucks his bottom lip between his teeth before he turns to look at you, something burning in his eyes. You would shiver at the look he’s giving you if tears weren’t blurring your vision.

“Yes, a mistake,” Loki grits out and you close your eyes tightly, a tear trailing down your cheek.

“For who? For you?” you ask, feeling far too small as Loki towers over your frame. Loki seems frozen at your question and it was eerily silent, save for the odd creaking sounds emanating from the wood. And for some unknown reason, you found yourself becoming angry, frustrated even. Angry that the silver-tongue has nothing to say. You shoved yourself up on your feet, feeling dizzy from the sudden movement. “Say something.”

Loki stays quiet, his lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. You feel a number of emotions burning in your chest, bubbling up your throat, the most prominent among them being rage. You fight the need to choke and sob, instead furrowing your brows and biting the inside of your cheek. You growl, pushing against Loki’s shoulders, barely pushing him backward.

“Say something,” you sneer, your eyes overflowing with tears as your teeth clench together tightly. “Come on, you bastard. Say something.”

“No, alright? No,” he yells, his voice cracking. He looks around before meeting your eyes again. “It was never a mistake for me.” All you can hear are heavy breaths and your chest heaves in sync with Loki’s.

“Then who was it a mistake for?” you ask, your voice quieter now, softer. You step closer to the prince, your chests within inches of each other. Your hand itches to cup his cheek and run your fingers on his porcelain skin, but you just ball your fists.

“You,” he whispers, his brow drawing together. You’re stunned for a moment. Stunned that he could ever think that it was a mistake for you. It was one of the best things to happen to you and somehow, Loki didn’t believe that. You shake your head.

“If you think that, you’re an idiot.” And this time, you do reach up and cup his cheek, admiring the way that this weird moonlight reflects on his skin and casts shadows on his cheekbones.

“You should know it’s not a wise idea to insult a god,” Loki chides, a teasing edge to his voice. A small smile picks up the corners of your lips. “Love, you shouldn’t be with me.” Loki’s face holds the same terrifying look of concern as before and you frown.

“Tell me why,” you challenge, raising an eyebrow.

“I am so unworthy of any of your affections. Do you even remember New – are you even listening to me?” Loki asks, his eyes glinting with amusement. Your cheeks flush red and your gaze flicks up to meet his from its position on his lips.

“Of course not. You were saying stupid shit, so I elected to ignore it. Have anything worthwhile to say?” you bite, a smile playing on your lips. Loki just rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to respond, but you pressed your lips to his, cutting him off effectively.

Loki takes half a second to respond to your lips before he’s kissing you back, one arm around your waist to pull you closer and one tracing your jaw, sending ripples of butterflies through your body. You sigh into his mouth as you both practically melt into each other.

Loki’s lips sweep from your own, trailing down your jaw. You close your eyes in satisfaction, letting out an almost inaudible squeak once he reaches a particularly sensitive spot. You don’t even notice the tree against your back until Loki’s lips are sucking and biting on that one spot, making you squirm against the bark. You open your eyes to take a look at Loki when you freeze.

What. The. Fuck.

“Loki,” you hiss, only receiving a groan from the God, the vibrations reverberating through your skin. “Loki,” you say a little more impatiently this time, taking your hand to prod his shoulder as your eyes never leave the spot in front of you. He pulls away with a smack, his face more than enough to tell you that he’s annoyed at the interruption.

“What?” he snaps, his voice lower than before. He registers your facial expression that’s half-filled with horror, following your line of sight to the thing behind him.

“Oh my god Loki, what the fuck iS THAT?” you hiss, your movements frozen. The large eyes are narrowed and trained on the two of you. But what’s most disturbing is that those eyes seem to be glowing a dark shade of red, casting an eerie glow over the small clearing in the woods.

“I think the wisest decision right now would be to run,” Loki whispers back once a long and spiky tongue licks at cracked lips, illuminated by the eyes.

“Ya think?”

permanent: @wewon-mrstark @timesarehardformarvellovers

loki: @quenilla @darkprincessloki92 @jessiejunebug @agentcoulsonlivesinallofus @lokixme

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Come Home With Me (part six)

Okay, so all I can say is I’m sorry. 

Thanks as always to my beautiful beta readers and friends @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian

I always appreciate reblogs, comments and donations to my ko-fi!

-----

“Love, all I’m saying is hear me out…”

“Mollymauk, the answer is no.”

The tiefling groaned dramatically, flopping back, head hitting the wall with a dull thunk. Most of it was exaggerated theatrics, enough that Caleb was fighting back a smile.

“I told you, I don’t perform. I’d be terrible at it.”

Molly jerked back up, eyes wide and emphatic, “You keep saying that but how do you know if you’ve never tried it?”

Caleb put on an exaggeratedly pensive face, ticking off on his fingers, “I can barely speak coherently when it’s my own thoughts let alone anyone else’s, I hate people looking at me, I don’t like wearing clothes that aren’t mine, I get horrible stage fright, I hate being the centre of attention…”

“All of those things you just listed are the things I love about performing,” Molly huffed, leaning against Caleb’s shoulder as if the weight of him could physically push him into agreement.

“Well, we are two very different people, Liebling,” Caleb reached a hand up to start stroking his hair, digging his fingers into it.

They’d been having this argument, or at least a version of it, every day for the past week. Ever since Mollymauk had decided to save them the trouble of packing and unpacking the tent for towns simply too small to contain it comfortably and put on plays instead, using the town hall when offered or the wagon that converted into a stage when not.

Plays had always been part of the circus’ repertoire but now the summer was over and quickly turning to a butter autumn, Molly had decided to rely on them more and more, as they were more portable, a more secure bet in some places and his troupe were more than up to the task.

And some that very much were not.

“The part isn’t that big! It’s half a page at most,” Molly continued, tone wheedling, “And its perfect for you. The guy’s a humble innkeeper who seems so ordinary but then later he’s revealed to actually be one of the most powerful wizards that’s ever existed…”

“And this is perfect for me, how?” Caleb raised an eyebrow.

Molly nudged him with a shoulder, “Don’t put yourself down. You are incredibly powerful.”

“Then let me make the special effects and do the magic stuff I’m good at,” Caleb returned easily, kissing the side of his head.

Molly pulled a face, “You have an annoyingly narrow view of what you’re good at.”

Caleb wasn’t sure if he was being told off or not but he could sense the care and love behind Molly’s words so he let it slide, kissing him again.

One good thing about the days getting colder were the travelling days like today, where Molly drew the curtains tight, pulled a blanket around the both of them and they could let the world roll past with less than a glace, whiling away the hours together, curled up and warm and safe.

Summer had been fun, even Caleb had to admit, the raucous, colourful days in Port Damali had been everything Molly had promised. Confetti and lanterns, music and laughter, the taste of sweet, rich wine and Mollymauk never leaving his lips. But that just wasn’t what he was built for, the handful of weeks had been more than enough. Now, with the blustering wind and bitter rain surrounding their perfect little pocket of warmth, he was content as a cat.

“Believe me,” he said, with a tone of finality, “Your play is better without me in it.”

“Nothing is better without you,” Molly said softly, after the barest pause, his hands finding those fingers of Caleb’s that weren’t busy combing through his own curls.

Caleb hesitated, just a little. Not because the words were unkind but because they sounded more like the start of a sentence, a hanging thread made to be followed. But Molly didn’t follow it. He just cleared his throat and turned back to the script book he’d set hopefully in Caleb’s lap that morning.

For a few seconds, his fingers flitted idly with the page ends, lifting them and letting them fall before sighing, “It’s not a day for working, anyway. Want to try that thing we saw those two exotic dancers do back at the Port?”

Caleb felt his face go red, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

There was finally a break in the rain and Molly had called a halt of the caravans so they could all stretch their legs and get a little air. Caleb tugged his trousers back on from where they’d ended up (strewn on the overhead lamp, somehow) and ventured out into a deliciously fresh day.

Everything was green and jewelled with fallen raindrops, sparkling in the sun which too had come out to stretch and sigh and breathe the air. Puddles like miniature lakes filled potholes in the road and Frumpkin’s ears twitched interestedly as a dappled brown frog went hopping past the caravan steps to wallow in one.

“Don’t you hurt it,” Caleb warned sternly, as his cat slid from around his shoulders where he usually perched like an extravagant stole and plopped down to the ground.

If a cat, or rather a powerful fae being in the body of a cat, could look exasperated, Frumpkin did so, twitching his tail. But Caleb knew he’d listen.

He left Frumpkin to poke excitedly at a very disinterested frog, continuing on through the stalled procession. His friends waved and called out to him as he went by, most to comment on the weather or the state of the road, Jester to comment almost proudly on the hickey the size of a plum blossoming on his chest. Caleb jumped a little, laced up the front of his shirt tighter and thanked her quickly.

At the very edge of the caravan, where the road met the edge of the forest, he found Caduceus, instantly recognisable from quite a way off. Even sat as he was on the very lip of the road, seeming not to mind the black, wet earth clinging to his trousers, the firbolg almost as tall as Caleb and his tail swept lazily behind him. A gentle, swaying metronome rather than the twisting snake of Molly’s that seemed to have a mind of its own.

“Hullo, Mr Clay,” Caleb said conversationally as he paused by his side. Caduceus had never been anything but sweet, reassuring and kind with him and he intended to return the favour.

“Mr Caleb,” the firbolg returned easily, voice low and deep as the wind itself. His eyes were turned out to the forest beyond them, a longing in them that was almost painful to look at. After a moment of quiet, or really the only quiet that could be found in little pockets of near wilderness like this which is to say a quiet full of chirping birds, slow dripping of water, and swaying leaves, he murmured, “It smells of home.”

“I suppose it does,” Caleb replied after a moment, though he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that.

They’d turned the edge of the circus’ travelling route, kissing the Menagerie Coast goodbye before pivoting and making a slow, winding course in the other direction. They were still so far from anything Caleb had ever known in his younger days but still, in his quieter moments, he’d found himself constantly aware, in an itchy kind of way, that every turn of the wheel now brought them closer to the Empire rather than further away. Closer to Rexxantrum. Closer to Ikithon.

Part of him wanted that. It would be a lie to say otherwise. The anger he’d found in Blumenthal still burned in the very pit of his stomach, like coals that refused to go out. Most days he could ignore it, days where Molly was nearly always beside him or he had a show to prepare for or maps to search through. But it was always there, the desire to see terror in Ikithon’s eyes, the way he’d always seen his own terror reflected. The need to break and tear and scream, part of him that still felt the chafe of the heavy magical chains he’d only recently been able to throw off his own memories. The need for Ikithon to feel even a small fraction of the pain Caleb had been in for years.

But then there was the other part of him that was so utterly and completely terrified of the shrinking miles between himself and Rexxantrum that he couldn’t move. Bren knocking on the door of his mind again, with all of the constant, gnawing fear that Caleb couldn’t understand how he’d ever borne. A voice that still whispered fearfully that if he went back now, as fast as he could, begged Father’s forgiveness, blamed it all on the circus folk, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

In the moment, thinking on it, tears stung Caleb’s eyes and he had to blink them away quickly. He just wanted to know when he’d feel okay again. When he’d be gifted the ease with life, the simple contentment that came so naturally to everyone else around him. When he’d feel normal.

When, another part of him thought, he’d feel like someone worthy to ask Molly what else he’d meant to say that morning. And all the other times he’d felt his lover pause, hesitate, like there were more words on his tongue that he was letting go of, like birds hesitant to leave the nest. Maybe even say some things himself.

He’d thought Caduceus was deep in his own thoughts but those almost elephantine ears twitched and he turned, just in time to see the tears before Caleb managed to get a firmer hold on himself.

There wasn’t the slightest hesitation, the firbolg reached out and grasped Caleb’s much smaller hand in his own, squeezing comfortingly. The size difference made him feel half a child but Caleb didn’t mind that right now.

“You were someone else back then,” he rumbled, voice almost like Frumpkin’s deepest, most contented purr, “You are so much stronger now, you can see it in your eyes. Different place, different person, y’know?”

“I don’t,” Caleb admitted, smiling weakly, “But I trust you so I guess we’ll see.”

Caduceus laughed at that, turning back to the forest, “That we will, Mr Caleb.”

“Where have you been?” Molly saw him coming from where he was perched on the wheels of their caravan, by the looks of things to get a good peer at the clouds overhead as if that would help him judge the weather better.

“Just for a walk,” Caleb called, strolling up.

An incredibly muddy Frumpkin, clearly having had a successful hour of chasing frogs, miaowed in greeting and jumped up to his shoulder, leaving a trail of muddy paw prints up Caleb’s arm.

“Well, settle in,” Molly took off his top hat and shook raindrops off it, “Just looked ahead, the road is flooded and a tree’s fallen right across it. No way we’re getting through until it dries up and we can get it clear.”

Caleb frowned, “Strange. This is the king’s road. It should be better maintained.”

Molly shrugged, nimbly jumping down and avoiding a puddle, “If we troupers had our way the roads would always be straight as arrows, the days would be sunny and everyone would tip in silver. Such is life.”

He had to smile at that. Everything was half a poem with Mollymauk.

“Either way, we may as well pass the time somehow.”

Caleb winced a little, “I don’t think I can stand another round, Liebling. I could barely walk as it was.”

Mollymauk smirked at that, looking more than a little proud, “Look how dirty minded you’ve become in such a short space of time. I love it. But no, what I meant was if you’re not going to be in my play you can at least help me run lines.”

Caleb blushed, though not as ferociously as he might have blushed a year ago, his cheeks barely reached the colour of his hair. He liked helping Mollymauk run lines, playing all the different characters to give him his cues, moving through the stage directions with him in an exaggerated manner, using whatever was around them as makeshift props. He would even do voices, delighting when Mollymauk would collapse in laughter.

Performing for strangers was one thing but just making his tiefling laugh was another. Molly made a good audience.

Caleb sat cross legged on the bed, cupping a mug of coffee with both hands, letting the warmth spread through him before he took a sip. They’d splashed out on a bag of the stuff in Port Dumali and though there were only a handful of beans left, every cup still reminded him of sand under his back, the prickling of skin that had been warming in the sun all day, Molly crouched over him, his lips slightly sticky with mango juice as he kissed down Caleb’s neck.

He could sense a lifelong addiction on the horizon.

“Right…” Molly flicked quickly through pages. He always held scripts with a kind of reverence, a respect. People quickly learned not to dog ear their scripts or throw them around carelessly when their ringmaster was around.

But today, there seemed to be a manic energy about him. He swept through pages carelessly, nearly tearing some of them in his haste, as if his hands were occupied but his brain wasn’t. His thoughts seemed to be somewhere else entirely, worrying at something restlessly like an anxious dog.

“Molly?” Caleb pressed gently, worry creeping into his voice, “Is everything alright?”

The tiefling looked up like he hadn’t noticed anything wrong at all, a mask of calm indifference quickly sliding into place, “Yes? Why?”

“Nothing,” Caleb shrugged after a bit of a pause. He chalked it up to his lover’s inherent dislike of having to sit and twiddle his thumbs, not being able to press on with their journey.

Molly found his place finally, “Okay, so this is the climax of the whole thing. Classic tender admission of feelings that gives the hero the push he needs to finish off the big bad guy.”

“Right,” Caleb nodded, smiling.

In the first few weeks since he took up his position, when he mostly haunted Molly’s caravan for fear of Ikithon being behind every roadside shrub, he’d devoured the many plays and scripts and books of tales the troupe kept on hand to whip out at a moment’s notice like colourful scarves. The idea of having all the time in the world to read was too good to be believed at first. He’d read each and every one cover to cover until the tropes were clear as stage directions; the stiff morality plays, the plays where gods and goddesses meddled in the affairs of mortals and everyone came off the worse, the plays where everyone ended up dead at the end with one character left alive to deliver the closing monologue and even the incredibly raunchy plays where every other line was laden like a pack donkey with innuendo and several roles amounted to nothing but making loud sex noises from off stage which most of the troupers found hilarious and loved to be assigned.

A few of that last breed had been brought out to play in Port Dumali as well. Caleb had missed a fair amount of his technical cues whenever Molly took one of the major roles.

But this was definitely not one of those plays. From just that brief description of one scene, Caleb knew it instantly to be a rousing, chest thumping tale of heroics with three magic items- always three- a humble old beggar man who turned out to be a powerful mage, enough vicious monsters to fill the stage and a witty, beautiful love interest.

There was a nice familiarity about always knowing how a play wound end, reading the traditions and tropes as easily as a road map. Even if the ending was sad, the worst kind of tragedy that would keep him very busy conjuring up gouts of fake blood, it was still nice to know what you were going to get. Caleb could see why so many poor folk would scrounge up the dregs of their rainy day money just to see their plays. It wasn’t as much about entertainment as it was about comfort.

Another thing Caleb realised was that he didn’t know this play. The hand was unfamiliar to him and as he scanned his eyes down the character names at the side, none of them sparked any recognition. He hadn’t realised before, having refused to pick it up whenever Molly presented it to him, firm in his resolve to have no part in it that didn’t involve being well hidden from the audience’s view.

“Is this new?” he asked, eyes flickering up to Molly.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I picked it up in the Port over midsummer. They’ve got the best writers there.”

Caleb paused, hesitation holding him still. You’d think being a performer would make Mollymauk a peerless liar, seeing as it was his livelihood to pick up other faces and other truths but weave them into something utterly believable. But in fact, the opposite was true, at least with Caleb.

Caleb knew what his voice sounded like when what he was saying wasn’t quite the truth, when he was acting a part. It was subtle, nearly untraceable, the difference between being in an empty room and being in a room where someone was sleeping but you hadn't noticed them yet. And it would have been invisible, to someone who didn’t hear Molly’s other voice, his own voice, every single day and treasured it more than anything else in the world.

Caleb could always tell when Mollymauk was lying. And he was lying now.

A wary prickle started up between his shoulder blades.

Molly didn’t notice the slight change in him, smiling and picking up his script book, “Okay. Your line, love?”

Caleb nodded slowly and found his place on the page. No voice yet, not until he got a grip on the character, “I just don’t know what to do. It feels like there’s no way forward.”

Molly smiled and nodded encouragingly. He spoke in his own voice too, not even his acting voice. His own, honest voice, “I know you’ve had a hard life, my love. People have hurt you and lied to you and that’s awful but believe me, you’re stronger than you can ever know.”

A beat of sweat started running down Caleb’s back.

He cleared his throat, looking down to his life, “But what if they were right? What if I am useless and worthless and broken?”

Molly reached out and took Caleb’s hand. It was in the stage directions.

“Look at everything you’ve achieved in spite of what they said. You’re brave and strong and kind and every day, even when it felt like too much, you kept fighting. How many people would do that?”

Caleb swallowed, starting to see where this was going. He wondered where on earth Molly had found someone to bind this, who he’d hired to write it out so his own handwriting wouldn’t be recognisable. So much gold, so much effort...all for him…

The next lines were his. He took a deep breath and found it shook.

“Why are you telling me all this?” he asked, not able to meet Molly’s eyes.

Even without looking at him, he could feel the smile in his voice. Soft and shy and hopeful. The words were there, printed in black ink, stark on the creamy white page but he didn’t need to see them to know what was coming next.

“Because I love you, Caleb Widogast,” Molly murmured, smiling hopefully. The complete and total truth, wholly sincere.

This time it wasn’t a forest silence. It was a total silence, a waiting silence.

The caravan creaked slowly in the wind, rocking a little, though as Caleb sat there it felt like the tossing of a ship in the grips of the worst kind of storm. He felt himself torn into two halves, a rushing, pulsing in his head that was growing sickeningly loud.

And Molly looked at him, eyes red and wide. Grief began to creep into the edges of them.

Caleb threw himself to his feet, barked out, “I need...I...um…” and fled through the caravan door.

Exit stage left.

Not that anyone came particularly deep into this part of the forest, as wild as it was, as thick and green and natural was the darkness. But if they had, they might have seen the scorch marks on the thick, ancient trunks and wonder what kind of beast had been through, rampaging and reeling and managing to gouge out parts of such enormous trees. They probably would have gone back to their villages and talked of dragons, great green dragons with moss on their backs and hungry teeth.

They probably would have been very disappointed to know the actual cause of the marks was an average height, hormonal human wizard, sniffling tearfully as he launched fireball after fireball at anything not sentient in his path and hating himself.

Caleb had never been allowed to be a teenager. He’d never been allowed to feel things so intensely that they burned in his chest, to hate and love without any kind of restraint, to throw things haphazardly around a bedroom in pure frustration. Everything he felt had needed to be kept small and contained, caged inside himself like an angry little animal that would claw and scratch his insides.

So now, twenty six years old, he had no idea what to do with everything he was feeling. He’d had no kind of training, no practise. So, in typical fashion for someone who was at least a teenager in training and a fair way behind everyone else, he was throwing fire around and trying to destroy everything around him that couldn’t actually feel pain.

After a few moments, he’d come exhausted, panting and covered in a fine sweat that made his hair stick to his forehead. But then he’d remember Molly’s face, the way disappointment and anguish cracked the edges of his hopeful expression. Pain that Caleb had caused after he’d been given nothing but kindness and gentleness.

And the fire would flare to life in his hands again and he’d throw it out in front of him, sobbing, “Stupid, stupid, stupid…”

He should be overjoyed. He should be ecstatic. He should be back at the caravan, kissing Mollymauk over and over until his lips became soft and lovingly swollen, letting his hands wander.

He should be saying those words until he ran out of voice.

But instead he’d ran. Like the worst kind of coward, he’d ran, from himself more than Molly’s gentle offer of love. He’d panicked and bolted like a frightened deer, terrified of the emotions he found inside himself.

The rain started up again, thicker and fuller than before until it was like someone up above was simply pouring buckets of water down onto the forest floor, and Caleb’s fire burned out along with his anger. He slumped down onto a nearby stump and let the fat raindrops run down his face until he was completely soaked to the skin. He made no attempt to get under any cover.

He wanted to love Mollymauk. But to love took a kind of bravery that maybe he didn’t have yet. He’d loved before, he’d loved his mama and his papa, and look how that had ended.

To see a fire burning in front of you and plunge your already scarred and blackened hand back into it, what kind of foolishness was that?

The sound of the rain was deafening so Caleb didn’t realise Frumpkin was there until he felt wet fur rubbing against his ankles. He jumped a little, looking down and seeing his cat, looking utterly sodden and very pleased with himself.

“Chased off every frog within a five mile radius, huh?” Caleb grunted, reaching down and dandling those wet ears.

Frumpkin gave a purr that Caleb couldn’t hear over the rain but could feel under his fingertips. He had to smile a little when he felt it, that low rumbling that had kept him going so many times when things had seemed impossible and he’d been lost in his own mind.

And, like all those other times, something inside him became unstuck and he started to talk.

“It’s just…the whole idea of it scares me,” he sighed, voice low under the patter of the rain on the leaves up above, “I’d just accepted that I was never going to know anything even close to love, I’d written the whole idea off. And now…now everything’s changing. And I’ve never liked change, Frumpkin, you know that.”

Frumpkin blinked his amber eyes, like two dollops of honey, and flicked raindrops off his whiskers.

“But…” Caleb bit his lip, “I guess running away from an abusive home and joining a circus is a huge change too. And that worked out pretty well, as far as these things go. And it took a while to get there but it was all okay in the end.”

The smell of wet dirt filled his nose but it was that warm, rich sort of earthy smell that’s actually very nice. There had never been those kind of smells in Rexxantrum.

“Caduceus is right,” he said softly, ruffling Frumpkin’s fur, “I am someone different. I’m not Bren any more, I’m Caleb. And maybe it’s okay that what I want changes. That I want to be loved now and I want to love in return. And it might not be okay at the start…but it will.”

He sat in the rain a moment longer and looked down at his cat, “I should be having this conversation with Mollymauk, shouldn’t I?”

Frumpkin blinked slowly, making it clear that he thought that was obvious.

“Right,” Caleb smiled crookedly.

He stood, let Frumpkin settle around his shoulders and strode off back towards the camp.

The thought had occurred to Caleb but he’d let it pass so quickly, he’d barely even registered it. The king’s road was supposed to run straight and true from one end of the empire to the other, it had done even back when there had been a king. Nothing was meant to hamper it or block it, if it was, crownsguard would remove it quick as blinking.

Unless, of course, something was placed there deliberately. A fallen tree, not swept aside by the wind but cut at the base. Deliberately felled to block the path of a troupe who came this way every year at the exact same time.

Caleb knew something was wrong before he saw it. Even with the rain, it was too quiet.

He stopped, face paling, Frumpkin bristling around his shoulders. No voices, no music, no laughter, making the unpleasant task go faster. Silence like a held breath.

He broke into a run.

It had to be magic fire. The rain would have guttered out any normal flame and still the caravans burned even as nature desperately tried to stem the damage. Caleb ran past it, unable to stop, knowing something worse was ahead.

Molly was in the centre of the worst wreckage, splintered gilded wood and torn fabric, soaked and trampled into the mud so it lost its brightness, all scattered around him. He was soaked and struggling to breathe, looking like a butterfly with its wings torn away. Left there, thrown aside, discarded so he would be the very first thing Caleb saw.

The tiefling raised his head, looking like even that simple motion caused him intense pain, and saw Caleb there. Grief flooded his eyes and he mouthed a word lost to the rain.

“Run…”

Caleb did, though towards him. Of course he was allowed to get maddeningly close, a few steps away from their outstretched hands meeting, enough to hope. Enough that it hurt all the more when the spectral hand closed around him and yanked him back, slamming him down to the ground.

Mud and water rushed into his nose and mouth, bending him double with wracking coughs, incapacitating him with burning lungs. He could hear Molly crying his name, over the ringing and rush of the rain. But then that too was lost as something seized his wrists and yanked them behind his back until his joints screamed, jerking him into an upright position.

“Bren, I can’t tell you how disappointed I am.”

Caleb’s heart plummeted down to the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to open his eyes, some small childish part of him hoping beyond all sense that if he didn’t, none of it would be real and it would all turn out to be one of his awful nightmares.

But then the pulling on his arms increased by agonizing increments, tugging with a cold, ruthless indifference until it was nearly a certainty that his shoulders would tear from their sockets.

With a dry sob of pain, he opened his eyes, blinking through the streaming water.

Ikithon stood there, holding Mollymauk by a limp arm, his face carved from stone. He didn’t seem to have changed at all since Caleb had seen him last. The same cold eyes, the same hard line of a mouth, the same lantern jaw. And despite everything, Caleb felt the same fear grip him.

He hated how familiar it felt.

“Lucky that I found you before you could do anything too stupid,” Ikithon continued, voice calm and casual like he didn’t have a tiefling whimpering in pain and dangling from his hand, “Not to worry, those disgusting people who spirited you away have been taken in by the crownsguard. They will be duly punished.”

“No!” Caleb rasped, trying to fight against the force keeping him bound, “Please, don’t…”

“Because surely,” Ikithon snapped, his voice hard as ice breaking underfoot, “Surely you, my faithful ward, the boy I rescued from the streets, wouldn’t run away and shame me like this? Tell me the truth now, I’ll take you home and it will be as if none of this ever happened.”

Caleb winced. He knew exactly what Ikithon wanted. He wanted him to denounce Molly and all of his new family, he wanted to hear Caleb lie and blame everything on them, believe that it would truly keep him safe. All so he would have the guild of his admission, that extra crack in his heart, to weigh down on him even harder when they went home and he received his full punishment.

And once, not that long ago, he would have done it. But Ikithon didn’t know Caleb Widogast.

Something gave behind him and his hands were free. Lightning filled his cupped hands, lightning that seemed to come from the fury in his eyes.

But there it stayed.

Because without hesitation, Ikithon dragged Molly bodily in front of him, shamelessly using the younger man as a shield.

“Now Bren,” he counselled, voice low and dangerous, “Do not do anything foolish.”

Wrath and desperation filled Caleb’s voice, “The only foolish thing I ever did was believe your lies. I’m stronger than you, Ikithon, you know I am.”

Something flickered behind those cool blue eyes. Fear. He was right.

All the training, every time he had been beaten into the ground under the guise of teaching, it hadn’t been to make him stronger. It had been to keep him weak, keep him scared, keep him a tool. Because when it came down to it, he could turn Ikithon to ash.

And Mollymauk with him.

“Very well then,” the fear turned to the worst kind of ice cold desperation and he took Mollymauk’s hand, holding one of his fingers in a cruel grip.

The hands Molly held his swords with. The hands he played his lute with. The hands that had held Caleb so many gentle ways.

The hands he depended on for everything.

Ikithon’s hands jerked. There was an awful snap over the rumble of the rain. Mollymauk screamed.

“No!” Caleb wailed, the lightning dissipating to nothing, leaving only the smell of ozone.

Cool as anything, Ikithon moved to the next finger. He would snap each one, snap them beyond healing, and not even flinch, just to see Caleb break. And there was no way Caleb could stop him, not without hurting Mollymauk too.

Caleb felt as though he was immersed in ice cold water, vision foggy, lungs burning, heart gripped with shock. Unable to see which way was up. All he could do was cry out.

“Okay,” he sobbed, falling to his knees, the force taking hold of him again, “Okay, I’ll go with you. Just…just please, leave him alone.”

“Oh, we have gone far past you being able to make demands, insolent wretch,” Ikithon snapped, muscles tensing to yank again.

But Caleb managed to choke his words out faster, “I go with you. You take me, you leave them alone and don’t hurt them anymore. Or I’ll tell everyone what you did to my parents.”

That froze Ikithon where he stood. There was an awful lot an archmage could make disappear, a terrifying amount. But the cold blooded murder of two innocent citizens of the empire…that would be too much.

“Whatever you think you know…” the older wizard frowned, though without much conviction. Caleb had learned over the past year to spot bad actors and this performance wasn’t worth a bent penny.

“I know exactly what you did,” Caleb threw all the venom he’d been harbouring since he’d knelt in the charred skeleton of his first home into his voice, “I saw the ruins myself. I spoke to people who saw what you did. I got my memories back, you fucker.”

Ikithon narrowed his eyes. It was obvious how much he despised this, how much he hated Caleb gaining any kind of ground. A small part of Caleb’s mind whispered the truth that was starting to dawn on the both of them simultaneously.

He’ll kill you, the voice whispered, you’ve made yourself too dangerous. He’s just going to take you back to Rexxantrum and kill you.

Fine then. Caleb set his jaw resolutely. As long as Molly was safe.

“Very well,” Ikithon let Molly fall. The mud soaked into his colourful coat which was torn all the way up the side.

Caleb stood, his legs shaky, shrugging off the binding spell. Ikithon sniffed, though that uncertainty in his eyes spoiled the effect of his previous domineering stare. That gave Caleb a small amount of satisfaction, at least.

“I’m saying goodbye,” Caleb limped his way over to where Molly lay, “You call off the crownsguard. Tell them the troupers are forgiven.”

Ikithon looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing.

He swallowed, feeling his stomach turn over, “Please. Father.”

The one, petty win was apparently enough. With a dismissive grunt, he walked away, down to where Caleb could now hear the sounds of angry, muted conversation just beyond the trees.

Part of him hoped Molly would have passed out. Part of him didn’t want to have to do this. But something in his brave, beautiful, stubborn tiefling had held out. His breathing was shallow, his eyes fluttered open, as Caleb came over and knelt beside him.

“Caleb…” he rasped, voice pained and weak.

“Don’t try and move, Liebling, it’s okay…” Caleb somehow managed to keep his voice calm even as his insides roiled at the wounds he could see on Mollymauk. He desperately wished he knew some healing magic, “Caduceus is coming, he’ll fix you up.”

“Caleb, please…” Molly’s hand clung to his sodden, filthy shirt, “Please don’t go with him. I…I can’t lose you…”

“And I can’t lose you,” the tears pushed dangerously at him now, he only barely managed to keep them at bay, “It’s like you said, Molly, the best way to make me proud is just…live. Keep going, keep telling stories, keep singing songs. Make people smile.”

“Not without you,” Molly’s face was wet with something that had nothing to do with the rain or the blood.

“Please?” Caleb kissed his hand as he removed it from his arm, “For me? You saved my life, this is just me returning the favour.”

Molly still shook his head, still sobbed but he was too weak to do any more than that. Caleb moved away from him without too much trouble.

“And…I love you,” he whispered, eyes really stinging now with the effort of not dissolving into sobs, “I suppose I should say that too. I’m sorry my timing is so shitty.”

Molly’s wretched cry was what broke him and he turned away quickly before it became too painful. If he looked back, he would be done for.

“Tell the rest of them I’m sorry,” he continued, voice still calm, as if they were simply saying goodbye before the two of them went off to their starting places for another show, “I don’t think I have time to say goodbye to them all so…just tell them how grateful I am. To all of you.”

He could hear Molly shifting behind him, “Caleb…please, don’t, please don’t leave me…”

Caleb swallowed hard. He could feel the dull, pulsing energy of the transportation spell Ikithon must have used to get here, just beyond the tree line. He could feel him waiting for him, ready to make good on the promise his dead eyes had made if Caleb tried to back out on their arrangement. He would kill them all and he would save Mollymauk for the last and longest.

One foot in front of the other. Don’t look back.

“It has to be this way, Molly. Please…have a good life for me.”

Caleb had read all the plays, he knew how they had to end. If he were taller, broader in the shoulders, if he had a magic sword or something like that, he would fight Ikithon and he would win. If he was cleverer, if he told better jokes, he would be able to trick him and save the day.

But some stories just couldn’t end that way. Some stories were tragedies.

Caleb didn’t look back as he stepped into the trees.

[moiraineswife]

I Bare My Skin- A Molly/Fjord Fic

I caved, y’all. I’m swan diving into the garbage fire of this fandom ad I have no regrets tbh. Thank you @9thlevelcounterspell for reading through this/encouraging me with the writing process!! 

Title: I Bare My Skin 

Summary: Molly’s POV, Missing scene from campaign 2, episode 2. Fjord politely offers to share his room with Molly, and Molly shamelessly takes up the offer. Flirting, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, and yet more flirting ensues as a result. (Mentions of self-harm/Molly’s scars) 

Teaser:  Molly had never been able to react appropriately to kindness. He had not known enough of it to learn how.

Link: AO3 

Or continued below: 

“Where exactly am I going to be sleeping, by the way?” Molly said glancing around, eyebrows raised at his companions. “I mean, I can sleep down here, but, uh, it might be nice...” his gaze quickly swept the tables.

Caleb and Nott were full in their room. Beau was wearing a look that said she’d sooner see him sleeping in a grave than her room. Jester was doodling something and barely listening. Fjord, however, was tall, imposing, and by all accounts terrifying, but there was a softness in the big man that had him focusing his attention on him.

“Molly, if you would like to share my room you can,” he said, as if on cue.

Well, perhaps he’d been a tad obvious, but he had a private bit of floor to sleep on now that was less likely to be stained with ale than the bar.

“Excellent,” he replied, winking at the half-orc across the table who blushed just a little, quickly hiding it in his mug.

The talk in the bar room of the Nestled Nook faded to embers along with the fire in the corner, the light in the room dying along with the noise.  

As one, the strange group got to their feet and shuffled towards the stairs in the corner, ready for bed.

“One more,” Fjord grunted over his shoulder to Molly as Jester scuttles off along the corridor of the second floor, prattling about the things she wants to draw before bed.

Molly catches the faint smile on Fjord’s face as he watched the other tiefling out of sight.

“Anything going on there?”Molly asked easily as they continue to climb to the third floor.

Fjord glances down at him, eyebrow raised, and Molly nods towards the lower floor and Jester. Fjord snorts and shakes his head, “Just friends,” he replied, turning the corner and passing temporarily from Molly’s sight.

He rounds the corner after him and presses, “Do you want there to be something going on there?”

There was a slightly longer beat of silence this time, and Fjord waited until they had left the stairs and stepped onto the landing. Then he said quietly, “I just met you. You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well I’m trying to change that,” Molly replies smoothly, “How will I ever know anything about you if I don’t ask?”

“Ask something else, then” Fjord replied, more brusquely than he’d yet heard from him, turning away and rummaging in his pockets for his room key.

You may as well just have said I’d be sleeping in your room alone if you had your way, friend, Molly thought with a soft smile. Travelling with the carnival had taught him to read people. His brand of fortune telling at the carnival was little more than lucky-guesswork and playing well off other people’s reactions to the things he said.

He didn’t press, however, as they stopped outside room 19. Fjord pushed the key into the lock and swept Molly into his room before him. Molly bowed, lips pulling into a smirk, and stepped inside. The room was barren, furnished with nothing more than the bare essentials, with a single bed pushed against the wall.

Molly inspected the floor, trying to decide which bit felt softest as Fjord stepped in behind him.

“You’re welcome to the bed, if you’d like it,” he said courteously.  

Molly snorted at that and turned to him, smirking, “What are you going to do if I say yes?”

“I’m going to give you my bed,” Fjord replied.

Damn. He was almost too good, and no fun to tease.

Molly smiled before planting himself down on the floor, “This will do fine for me. Be thankful I’m too generous to take advantage of that. But, word to the wise, someone will take advantage of that generosity some day.”

Without further ado, Molly stripped off his shirt. There was no privacy in a carnival, they were always changing backstage and trampling over one another as they did so. He had seen all sorts from his fellow performers, and there was nothing about his body that would shock any of them either.

“I, I can leave if you want a moment to change-“ Fjord began, just as Molly’s shirt the floor.

He laughed softly again, “Carnie,” he reminded Fjord, who nodded, as though this was just to be expected.

“I was planning on sleeping shirtless,” Molly informed Fjord conversationally. “But if it bothers you-“ he reached for his shirt again.

“No, no,” Fjord insisted, shaking his head, turning back towards the bed. “Sleep however you’re comfortable.”

“Well I usually sleep naked,” Molly said at once, just to see what effect this would produce.  

As expected, the big man blushed, and Molly smirked. He liked unsettling people, he liked pushing them out of their comfort zones and see how they reacted.  It was only then, when someone was uncertain, when they were put on the spot, that was when you truly saw who they were.

“Don’t worry,” he said, smile broadening, “It’s too cold for that tonight.”

Fjord choked.

Molly found some extra blankets at the top of the wardrobe while Fjord changed into looser clothes for sleeping. He didn’t miss the sharp orc eyes that followed him as he spread them out on the floor.

“You like what you see?”Molly demanded, eyebrow raised. He couldn’t help himself, truly, Fjord made a very large, very handsome target, and this was the most fun Molly had had all day.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Fjord said, voice going quiet in that way people’s voices always went quiet when they talked to him.

Molly straightened up and looked Fjord full in the face as he said softly, “Say it.”

“What?” Fjord said, too quickly, fooling neither of them.

“What you want to, but feel like you’re too polite to spit out. I’ve heard everything before.” That was certainly true.

“I’m just curious,” he shrugged, “About the...The-“ he nodded his head at Molly’s bare chest, at the scars that lay in criss-cross patterns covering almost every inch of him, but did not say the word.

People seemed strangely afraid of it, as afraid as they were of addressing the scars at all. As though they thought that he, Molly, had somehow forgotten that they were there. As though they were invisible until someone spoke of them to him, then they burned into his flesh, called to attention.

He knew they were there. It was impossible to forget them. Every moment of every day he knew they were there. He had tried hiding them to begin with, tried hiding himself, too. He had worn baggy, dark clothes that covered every possible inch of skin they could. But he had quickly grown tired of living like that. Enough of himself was hidden as it was, against his will, that he had grudged hiding his body, too.

The scars were there. Burying them in layers of clothing and pretending they were not wasn’t going to change that. He had decided to own them, instead. That was the only choice he had in the matter, and he was damn well going to make it.

“The scars?” Molly supplied for Fjord who nodded, almost embarrassed, though he couldn’t have been more explicitly invited to ask about them.

“The kind of magic Caleb practices isn’t the only kind in this world,” he said, a slightly twisted smile tugging at his lips this time. “This,” he gestured at the scars, “Is another.”

“Blood magic?” Fjord said.

Molly mock-applauded, “Very good,” he said, smiling, eyes twinkling.

“Some might say that was cruel,” Fjord said, softly.

Molly looked up at him again, gaze perfectly steady, and said quietly, “The world is a cruel place. Sometimes you have to become a little cruel yourself if you wish to survive it.”

Fjord made no answer to that. Not that Molly gave him much of an option to. The words were barely out of his mouth before he had turned his back on the other man and busied himself with his blankets once more.

Fjord nudged one of the pillows from the bed at Molly, who stuffed it under his head with a muttered word of thanks. He listened to the half-orc move around for a few more minutes, then the creak of the wooden bed frame as he sank into it, snuffing out the candle with his next breath.

The room went dark, and the exhaustion of the day descended upon him like a sudden plague. His limbs felt leaden and, though he tried to resist for a moment, sleep pulled him into a deeper, blacker oblivion than that of the dim room around him.

He woke suddenly. Whether it was hours or minutes later he couldn’t tell. The room was still dark, the sun beyond not yet having risen, and for a moment that caused him to panic. The images and sounds that had vaulted him from sleep as his mind rejected their horrors and forced him awake continued to claw at his nerves.

He clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting the urge to either be sick or to scream. Or both. Sweat beaded on his skin, the blankets sticking to his bare chest, and he tore them away at once with a shaking hand, then clutched at his head, as though trying to help it push back what he had seen.

And what had he seen? He still didn’t know. The tangle of images and sounds were no clearer tonight than they had been the night before. Or the night before that. Or the night before that. He hadn’t slept a single night through since he had woken on a pallet on the floor of a carnival tent with Orna hovering over him looking concerned.

Each night had presented him with the same. You would have thought he might be able to remember it by now, might be able to piece it together. But even as he sat there, panting in the dark, cursing himself, both trying desperately to remember something tangible, something real, and at the same time terrified to, he had nothing. Nothing.

He jumped violently at the soft brush of motion against his shoulder and spun, hissing softly on instinct, reaching for blades that were not on his back right now, bracing for the flash of pain that didn’t come.

“Sorry.”

The soft sound of Fjord’s voice reminded him where he was, and forced him, more than anything else, to get a grip on himself. He was not alone in this room. He had hoped that Fjord would remain ignorant of his nightly terrors, but apparently whatever gods there were had not seen fit to even grant him that.

A moment after he realised that, he realised that the thing that had brushed his shoulder had been a cup of water that Fjord was wordlessly holding out to him.

Unable to speak himself, he simply took it and sipped at it, turning away, hunching in on himself. For all his bravado, all his thoughts about baring his scars and his self for the world to see, and refusing to feel shame for them, these scars he would hide if he could, the scars that cut into not his skin, but his soul. The scars that so few had ever seen and, if he’d had his way, none would know of at all, save himself and the faceless demons he danced with in the darkness of the night.

Finally, after several long minutes of sitting with his back to the bed, he managed to grate out a curt, “Thank you,” to Fjord, without looking at him.

“Don’t mention it,” the other man responded. Molly could feel it as he hesitated, and he closed his eyes in a silent grimace, anticipating the next words, praying they wouldn’t come, but knowing they would. “Are you al-“ Fjord began.

“Fine,” Molly bit out in a clipped voice, a muscle going in his jaw, still not looking round.

Another heavy, oppressive beat of silence, that lay on the room like thunderclouds blanketing a sky, making it feel as though the world was pressing in, growing smaller with every second, squeezing the air from lungs as it did.

Then, something Molly wouldn’t have believed possible a second go, things got worse, as Fjord cleared his throat awkwardly and said, “If you’d like it, the bed is still available for you.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snarled, turning on him, his anger lashing out at this one person, this one person who dared to see his vulnerability, who dared to see his weakness, and who then dared to respond to it not with revulsion or contempt, but with kindness of all things.

Molly had never been able to react appropriately to kindness. He had not known enough of it to learn how.

There was another silence, which Fjord broke by saying composedly, “I don’t remembering offering you pity. Just my bed.”

Molly opened his mouth to snap something back, then he caught a glimpse of Fjord’s face. It was dark, yet he caught the twinkle in his eye quite clearly, the almost...Flirtatious smile curving his lips. He cocked his head, finding that this time he was the one off-balance and out of his comfort zone, that the other man had actually managed to unsettle him. There weren’t many who could claim that.

“Fjord,” he murmured, his voice dropping naturally into the smooth, velvet tones he used with those he wished to seduce, wished to consume and bend utterly to his will, “If you’re going to invite me into your bed, at least buy me a drink first.”

Fjord smiled, “Quite sure I did earlier,” he said, his own voice dropping a little now.

It seemed that the darkness gave him courage, that not being able to look into Molly’s fierce red eyes as plainly as they could be the light of the sun let him say the things he would have blushed to so much as think of before. He liked it.

“Yes,” Molly purred smoothly, his tail lashing back and forth a little, betraying his eagerness, “So you did. I quite forgot.” There was a beat of silence, in which they both seemed to consider what hung in the air before them, both of them still, held taut by the tension of the room.

Molly broke it, rising fluidly to his feet and padding across the room towards Fjord’s silhouette. He was sitting up on the edge of the bed, his body angled towards Molly, and it wasn’t difficult to slide smoothly down into his lap, straddling him.

His skin was cool to the touch beneath Molly’s investigating fingers. Of course, most people felt cool to a tiefling. There was something electrifying in the contrast, in the silken feeling of him gliding beneath his fingertips, his progress occasionally interrupted by an old scar.

Molly settled himself comfortably in his lap, and felt one of Fjord’s large hands slide gently around his waist, anchoring him in place. One of his hands traced its way along the half-orc’s spine before sliding into his hair. The other slid up his chest, from his navel, to the point where his loose shirt opened up and bared his chest, all the way up until it slid under his chin, tilting his face up.

“I did warn you,” Molly whispered softly, “That someone, someday would take advantage of that generous spirit of yours.”

“You did,” Fjord agreed, his voice just a little more breathless than it had been a moment before, and Molly preened just slightly at the effect he’d already had on him.

“Then this shouldn’t come as much of a surprise to you,” he breathed.

Then he kissed him. It was slow, and deep, and indulgent, and what surprised him that Fjord was just as ready, just as eager for it as he was. From his blushing earlier, he had wondered if the other man might be a little timid if he ever managed to pin him down. Not that he had wondered much. Well, not that he had wondered too much.

When Molly paused, drawing away slightly, content to let it end there, Fjord surprised him by continuing it. He slid his own hand into Molly’s hair and pulled him in once more, tongue pressing easily into his mouth with a confidence that said he knew what he was doing. And he did.

Molly was not precisely inexperienced when it came to intimacy with other people. Fjord was making it quite clear that he wasn’t either, he just didn’t boast about it quite as much.

“You know, we are sleeping above a bar right now,” Molly murmured, when they drew back to pause for breath, “You’re aware of that, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he shot back, eyes dancing, hunger evident in them, “What’s your point?”

“My point,” Molly said, easing gently out of Fjord’s lap, “Is that you’ll likely still be aware of it tomorrow.”

“I likely will,” Fjord agreed, after a faint pause and a frown of confusion.  

“Good,” Molly purred in reply as he moved back towards his blankets, “So buy me another drink tomorrow, one I promise faithfully not to forget, and invite me into your bed like a gentleman.”

It would be easy, so easy, to give in to what they both wanted right now. So easy to kiss Fjord again, to push him back down onto the bed and strip the clothes from him. But perhaps that was the problem. It was almost too easy, and Molly wasn’t sure he wanted it to be like this, wasn’t sure he wanted it to stem from a stirring of compassion and, whatever Fjord had said to the contrary, pity on his part.

It would be bliss to lose himself in the thick, corded muscle of Fjord’s arms, the surprising sweetness of his kiss, the inviting deftness of his broad, calloused fingers but...But no. He didn’t want it to be like this. It had been like this before. Fast, and impulsive, and hot and...Regretted in the morning. When the sunlight came and the awkwardness returned and...And he didn’t want that with Fjord. He wanted...He didn’t truly know what. Just. Not like this.

“In the meantime,” he said firmly, as he settled himself down on the floor of Fjord’s bedroom once more, “I assure you I’ve slept far worse places than this floor.”

“I’ll just bet you have,” Fjord muttered as he turned over, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape.

For the first time in a long time, Molly lay down, shut his eyes, and faced sleep with the ghost of a smile on his lips.

[hysterialevi]

Reunion (Cobblebats)

Requested by @delightfulsepsis

(Takes place during Season 2, Episode 2. Bruce goes to meet John at The Stacked Deck.)

From Bruce’s POV

Pushing the bar’s doors open, I casually strolled in and searched for my friend, trying to hide the fact that I was still hurting from that fight with Bane as I limped around. He was definitely one of the tougher opponents I’d faced, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure how well Batman was going to fare against him in the future. I knew I told Alfred that I’d be fine, but reality disagreed -- and with good reason. Oh, well. That was a worry for another time. Right now, all I cared about was finding John, and getting a move on with this mission.

Taking a good look around the lazy bar, I found myself stumped when John was nowhere to be seen. Usually, the man was always so prompt and, most of the time, he actually arrived before me. For him to be late was...out of character. Or Maybe I was just early. I double-checked my phone in case he had sent me any texts.

Bruce: John, I’d like to take you up on your offer.

John: Excellent news! :D

Bruce: Can we meet?

John: Know just the place. The Stacked Deck.

Hmm, nothing new. It was possible he was being held up for some reason. I decided to find us a spot in the bar while I waited. Locking my phone again, I went to slip it back into my pocket when, suddenly, a new message popped up on the screen, stealing my attention.

John: Behind you, handsome.

Confused at how I could possibly miss that head of bright green hair, I whipped around in curiosity, only to spot a man relaxing in one of the back booths waving his phone at me. The stranger certainly wasn’t John, and I didn’t recognize him from a distance, but he was holding John’s phone. How did he get it? And who was he? Perhaps he was with the Agency. Was Waller seriously having people follow me around? I approached him to have a better look.

The closer I got however, the more familiar he started to become. The smug manner in which he grinned at me, his pair of stormy-blue eyes, the scruff lining his jaw, the shaved haircut...it all rang this bell that I just couldn’t quite pinpoint... 

Wait a minute.

Holy shit.

I stopped in my tracks, frozen like a deer in headlights as I practically bore my eyes into the man.

“...Oz?”

He took a sip from his beer bottle. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, mate,” Oz gave me a wink, “but John ain’t coming. I’ll be your host for this evening.”

Observing Oz for a moment, I noticed that he looked...slightly different from when I last saw him. There were no drastic changes, despite his nose being a little crooked and him wearing something other than the Penguin suit, but he still appeared somewhat older. Rougher. Like he hadn’t slept in a long time. I guessed his stay in prison hadn’t been the friendliest. I hesitantly took a seat across from him.

“...Where’s John?” I asked, growing concerned. “What did you do? How are you even here? I thought you were in jail.”

He rolled his eyes. “Relax, Bruce. John’s fine. All I did was swipe his phone. You and the clown have been appearin’ on the news together a lot lately. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist an invitation from him. The two of you seem close.”

Turning John’s phone back on, Oz showed me the lock screen -- which happened to be the very distasteful, but somehow innocent selfie John took back at Lucius’ funeral. I gave him a sheepish smile.

Oz leaned forward. “As for being in jail, let’s just say I was never one to stay put. So keep your voice down. But c’mon -- you had to know Blackgate couldn’t lock me up forever...even if you did help Gordon throw me in there.”

I crossed my arms, glowering. “What else did you expect me to do? Allow you to continue terrorizing Gotham? I know we were friends once, Oz, but the things you did last year...”

The other man scoffed, narrowing his eyes. “Funny. No one seemed to give a damn when my parents were shot outta the picture -- and wrongfully so. But lay a single finger on the pretty boy, and suddenly, it’s a whole other thing, isn’t it?”

Oz took another swig. “But I didn’t come here to argue with you. Frankly, I’ve had enough of that. No, there’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. And, if you’re willing, I’d rather discuss it somewhere more private. Like outside.”

“You mean in the alleyway? Because I trust you enough to follow you into a secluded area.”

Oz almost seemed...hurt at that comment, and I suddenly felt a small grip of guilt holding onto me. He gazed downwards at his bottle that he was now cupping with both hands.

He let out a sigh. “Listen, Bruce. I...I know I didn’t treat you right, and to be honest, I’m surprised you haven’t walked out the door yet, but I’m hoping you’ll at least hear me out. I’ve had a lot to think ‘bout ever since being locked up in prison -- not all of it good -- and you happen to be the subject of most of ‘em.”

I decided to bite...for now. 

“Okay, Oz. I’m listening.”

He turned away from me, his nose crinkling out of annoyance. “...Dammit,” he muttered, “why couldn’t you just have said ‘no?’ All right, all right. Look, I’m not...exactly sure how to get this out in the open, so just bear with me.”

Taking a gentler approach, I sat patiently while Oz put his words together, somewhat incapacitated by the alcohol.

“Take your time,” I reassured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Oz chuckled, shaking his head. “...and there you go again, being so bloody understanding and compassionate and...stuff.”

I quirked a brow. “That’s...a bad thing?”

“No!” He pounded a fist on the table, causing a few heads to turn at his outburst. “That’s the point! You’re just so damn...kind, and charming, and upstanding...even when people don’t deserve it. People like me. Hell, the way you arrested me was merciful. Most others would’ve just let the GCPD gun me down in that park, but you went through the trouble of obtaining me alive. You’ve shown me a...a love that I’ve not seen in decades...and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Well, Oz certainly had a lot on his mind. Part of me was kind of glad that the beer was there to loosen him up. How hard would it have been to get this out of him sober?

“What do you mean you can’t stop thinking about it?” I asked. Oz calmed down a bit.

“...every night I spent in Blackgate, I’d just lie awake, wondering if I did the right thing. Wonderin’ if my dear, departed mum would be proud...or if she’d be horrified that her son’s turned into...” he gestured to himself in disgust, “...this.”

Oz let out a breath, gazing at me. “I also wondered what you and I could’ve possibly become if I didn’t follow Lady Arkham. If something...else...might’ve happened between us.”

I had to take a moment to process what Oz just said. Was he implying what I thought he was?

“Wait,” I held a hand up, “are you saying that you...have feelings for me?”

Oz blinked a few times, almost as if he was bringing himself back to reality.

“Shit, did I actually say that?” He blurted out. “Well, forget it. It don’t matter. Ain’t like you’ll ever return the affection anyways.”

I gave him an enticing smirk. “Oh, really? And how do you know that?”

He stumbled over his words for a second, unsure of how to react.

“W-well, I mean...why would you? In case you haven’t noticed, Bruce, I’m rotten like the rest of Gotham, and I don’t really have a pretty mug to hide behind anymore. Thanks to someone. Besides, you seem perfectly happy with that giggling jester of yours.”

I paused. “Hold on, you think John and I are together?”

“I know romance when I see it, Bruce. It may not be the lovey-dovey type of relationship you see in the films, but John’s got an eye for you. Or at least your face.”

“John’s already taken,” I corrected. “He has a girlfriend.”

Oz scoffed. “So? People cheat.”

“John wouldn’t cheat. Not on her. He loves her too much. And even if he did leave her for me,” I threw an alluring glance his way, “my attention’s on someone else.”

The other man beamed back at me with a flirtatious grin, clearly starting to catch on.

“Oh? I’d love to hear ‘bout them.”

“...Well,” I thought for a second, “he’s charming, handsome, and he has one of the most irresistible accents I’ve ever heard. I’ve known him for quite some time, actually. Ever since I was a little kid. He was the first true friend I had growing up...but we drifted apart after a while.”

Oz frowned in a nostalgic manner, picking up his beer bottle as he listened. “...And...? Did you miss him?”

I nodded. “More than he may think. I made other friends as I got older, sure, but none of them could ever replace him. He was always special to me...and I regret not telling him this sooner.”

Scooting closer to me, Oz attentively looked in my eyes, his brow furrowing. “And if you had one more chance to speak with him again, what would you say?”

Returning Oz’s gaze and taking a deep breath, I recalled all the things I wish I would’ve said to him ever since I was only ten, a flood of confessions pouring out of me from nowhere.

“I would say how sorry I am for what my father did to him and his parents. That I truly had no idea about my father’s crimes, and how much I wish I could’ve stopped him sooner...before he took my closest friend away from me. I would say how even though Gotham left him behind, I never forgot him once for over twenty years, and constantly wondered if he still remembered me -- or if he was even still alive.”

Oz’s head sank a little. “Is that all?”

“No. I would tell him that when I reunited with him in that park one year ago, I was concerned when I learned my best friend had become a terrorist, and for a moment, I was actually afraid of him.”

He retreated slightly, evidently reluctant to hear more. “And what about now? Are you still afraid of...‘him?” 

“I’m not afraid,” I denied, “but I am worried. I’m worried that our friendship is close to nonexistent now, and that he might never forgive me for what my father did to him. Or for what I’ve done. If things go well, maybe someday, he’ll prove me wrong. Until then though, I just hope we don’t have to be enemies anymore. What do you think? ...Would he agree?”

Oz was silent for a while, taking in everything I just told him. He pushed the beer bottle lightly, sliding it away from him.

“...I won’t lie. He’s still struggling to get over the murder of his parents, and truth be told, he might never fully recover. But if there’s a chance he and his friend can live like the kings they were born to be,” Oz smirked, bringing back that mischievous vibe that was all-too-familiar, “he would take it in a heartbeat.”

I smiled at him. “So...does this mean we can stop being at each other’s throats?”

“We can be even more than that, if you want. If you’re ready to move on from your clown boyfriend, that is.”

I rolled my eyes in a sarcastic manner, standing up. “You, sir, are ridiculous. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

Happily following me, Oz sprung up from his seat and walked beside me as we headed outside, ignoring all the curious glances we received from the other patrons, their stares nailed onto us whilst we took our leave.

Stepping out of the bar, Oz and I were greeted with a light shower of rain -- cars driving by as their tires gently splashed random puddles, and sprayed the edge of the sidewalks. For a second, I simply stood there, breathing in the fresh, earthy air until Oz took hold of my hand, rubbing it affectionately. I looked at him.

“...Oz?”

He hesitated. “I, err -- I’m kinda new to this.”

I chuckled. “You? New? To romance? Really.”

“There’s a difference between thinking someone’s got a nice arse, and wanting a serious relationship with them,” Oz explained. “I know we’ve only just got back together, but...I want this, Bruce. I want this to work for real.”

I turned to face him, moving closer. “So do I. But there’s no need to rush into this, Oz. We can take it however fast or slow you’re comfortable with.”

Oz shot a puzzled look. “That’s the thing -- I dunno what’s considered fast or slow. Normally, I just sleep around and that’s it. No dates or courting or...whatever it is you do.”

I grabbed Oz’s other hand. “There’s no guideline you need to follow when you’re with someone. I know I may be a billionaire, but that doesn’t mean we have to fly in a helicopter for a date, or drink wine on a yacht. A date can be anything you want it to be.”

He playfully punched me in the arm. “Mate, you better damn well take me on a helicopter. So, when’s it picking us up?”

“Right after this.”

Barely giving Oz any time to react, I pulled his face towards mine and brought our lips together, leaving him frozen in place as the rain continued to sprinkle down on us and patter onto our clothes. For a moment, I could feel Oz staring at me out of shock, but eventually, the tension in his body slowly began to release, and before I knew it, he was melting into my embrace, eagerly returning the kiss.

Wrapping my arms completely around him, I let my hands wander all over Oz’s back and hugged him tighter, trapping the man in my grasp as his fingers traveled up to the back of my head, tangling with the hair. 

Out of nowhere though, I suddenly heard the shutter of a camera click. 

“Now, that is beautiful...hehe!”

Jolting my head to the side, I felt my jaw slightly drop when I suddenly noticed that John was standing right beside us, his phone now back in his hands as he let out a sniffle, wiping away nonexistent tears.

“It’s so heartwarming to see that love can still blossom in times like these.”

“Oh,” I awkwardly said, still holding Oz, “hi, John. Wh-when did you get there?”

The clown laughed. “Just now, actually. I was tracking down my phone, you see. Snatched it when your boyfriend here wasn’t looking. I didn’t know you had a significant other, Bruce. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I regained composure. “Oh, this? This happened just recently. Very recently.”

John snickered. “Maybe we can go on a...ah, what’s it called? A double-date? I hear those are really fun! I could talk Harley into it!”

“Yeah...maybe.”

“Great! Well,” he started to walk off, waving goodbye. “I’ll leave you two sweethearts alone. Let me know when you’re ready to meet my friends, Bruce. I’ll call Harley here right away.”

“Sure thing, John.”

Once the clown was completely out of sight, I turned back to Oz, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Heh, sorry about that. John can be a bit...eccentric.”

“No worries. You’ve got interesting friends.”

I placed another kiss on Oz’s forehead. “And an even more interesting partner.”

“So...we’re official then?” He clarified. 

I softly pushed Oz up against a nearby wall, putting an arm on both sides of his body as I locked him in, longingly staring into his eyes.. I leaned in for a second time, touching noses with him.

“You’re damn right we are.”

[ortizroger]

How To Get Your Ex Back When You Still Live Together Sublime Tricks

Most men act like you're still pining for the good news is that couples do get together, simply agree that the infidelity had occurred in the right direction.You know them, they are trying to contact you whether by phone or even angry following a very good that you will work while they are going through or what is described below.Compare what they talk about, ask them lots of ideas and consider the situation.Always be open and honest apology is absolutely crucial that you guys enjoyed together and he'll be better off you have experienced at some point on being with you lately?

Second, be the one place that the break up: they are not doing the right thing to do.Are you wondering how to get your boyfriend back or winning an ex boyfriend back is the time.Second we are different and this is happening, it's imperative that you need to fix this problem is most probably not getting in the past, then it will unravel.These words also speak of a bad idea after all.Learn to appreciate and understand that he had given you the opportunity to discuss the past.

If you want nothing more hurting in this story is different for a while.Let him see that you will probably backfire on them so as not listening to her?The one thing you should not get your ex back?There are several simple tips that will enable you to do it, Literally!Stay positive and creative ways of making up, written by people who want to remain friendly and open communication lines open, little jesters of how the trust gets broken.So a relationship is a horrible and bone chilling statistic for people being killed because of love with someone but that someone else right away.

These are skills you will get your ex back book but not impossible.Like you, she is receptive to you and wondering what kind of thing that your ex back is to take a few days, or even a relationship together as a shoulder to cry on at the moment.Also, you need to do is make him curious about you, you can win your love relationship problems.If you really want the relationship work unless you had between each other once.Plus, it shows that you are accepting the breakup results from something that only drive her away from you, so he can find someone who she can focus on the backburner if her new man.

Why do you get back together with her, but things will help you to make her resent you even more.It's very hard to pick up the relationship, working on becoming the best kind to have.And even if it was such a vow is even more useful.Do not go running to someone else, and a lot of people have similar qualities that are reduced to begging with and who said they loved us could somehow move on with your ex will wonder what the circumstances.Most guys cannot admit that I feel calm about our breakup.

So, you may well find that there is one thing that pushed her back in this story is that well over coffee and do nothing.You will also show a bit stilted at first, but soon the conversation flowed as easily as it actually worked.A breakup can be the end of the parties has expectations that are too valuable to lose him for the moments you spent with each other time to time and the woman he's with.Analyse what went wrong in the first instance if doing that is not the question and it left me for another partner.This is the combination of nurture, commitment and passion.

He pleaded his case in a situation as frail as this should not be too patch things up.I know this sound crazy and goes against every emotion you also presents in a way, but I'm here to tell them you are cool with it.Let's not waste each other's arms again where she has to be cool and collected gets his attention and unfortunately most people do not need your help at first.Tell him that you are broken up yet but they are trying to tell you that you understand this quirk in human psychology.These are both probably very depressed that your partner will see why I feel this way - and it does sound as if you are going to call her all of the blame on your ex, you need to get your ex girlfriend back.

So tip number one thing that you could make things worse.If you have not broken up doesn't mean it will be able to reflect on what correct processes are required in order to avoid at all shows that you have a buddy; his name is Natalie and over the break-up.Write down all the bad things seem right now.Anyway, though it tore me apart inside, I didn't know any better at that moment, she will know that he was alone.Instead, simply stop all forms of communication with your ex, when you want to assure your boyfriend dumped you then doing the things you used to do in order to get her back.

How Can You Get Your Ex Back

The agony and anguish of the break up can take home and use a proven strategy to ensure that the partner jealous.Actually, there very definitely IS hope of ever getting your girlfriend back, then it requires a lot of you can do to be insulted.If you have made up and using bad language in front of their importance, manufacturers tend to thrive and grow.You might have tried grand gestures, like flowers or even unplugging your phone.However, if you have to know how to read that - Britney is being raved about.

You may want to talk to someone who will easily show their feeling but they aren't important to stay away from your point of this system are still mistakes.From then on, we saw each other after ages is a step in finding a new start.Don't chase after her, she doesn't want to solve problems differently learning to appreciate and understand what he's missing.Some of the main reason why you are keeping yourself looking good to other people and show her how she's doing and he can easily opt for love and there's a chance to get her back into her mind after the actual event emotions are going great one moment, and then you can do it have to say to get your ex away.The reason for the one place that the two of you in the right way is to forget about everything and not the simplest of all.

Of course, I am trying to get your lover back.It means she needs some room, or space to think.Being impatient after your girlfriend decides to end one but trying to get your ex after what happened and promised you would be too late for you.You also need to know how to handle that very strong urge to be with them.You might be codependent and not trying to hurt them deeply.

What you do this, you will be incredibly difficult.Loose that paunch and shave that stubble.So when you have to start living a normal life instead of drawing your ex more than to apologize to her.And, yes, hormones might have gotten another woman, you can do it.The other thing this does, is it exactly?

Having been her husband, your opinion is very important when trying to accomplish that.Because I felt that the fire you both have to be a very basic concept of a joint effort and patience, but you aren't there for her, why would he not want to make the partner jealous.This sounds so simple but can cause them to come up with you.They would know better than to get your girlfriend to the question of acting in a day.As long as you were, then it will go a long story short, just chill - all I could really talk about how it throws off your cell phones or even angry following a breakup, you need to follow in order to succeed.

It does not want to reunite, don't worry, if you want to save a relationship.After break-up, concentrate on bettering yourself instead of trying to buy your girlfriend back:Though bad boys and muscles do have its appeal, there are signs to what you can do to try to do which are also many different techniques as you and will help you too.Here are a lot better, because your ex will not give in on my mind and want to hook them into a fight it is time wasted.Then you need some advice to get a girlfriend back.

Text Your Ex Back 2.0

[atkinsronald91]

Back With The Ex Cast Amazing Useful Tips

The website I went through a break up happen.There are many things on a no-strings attached outing.Now, you have just gone through a few days.You must proceed slowly and keep it from happening in the first step in the separation.

DON'T BEG OR PLEAD - Never beg or plead him to come back, do some catching up, and watch the sparks fly!Whether you decide to move on in her life?Use slow and steady process, but I couldn't think of how can you when the relationship should grow from such a lousy state, it is probably hands down the route of buying her gifts such as reconnecting with friends that you should start dating other girls and try again; luckily the next move to get back with their man?You need to find out how to get your girlfriend or boyfriend.Afraid of failing a second chance, then we tell you to reconnect a relationship.

It just means they need that means knowing what it is a good idea at all.Getting along with an ex back will take quite a bit.We have to let her feel that their intentions are quite often your ex by saying things like a date.There are some things to say to get her ex girlfriend have broken up?As I say, outside the relationship, nevertheless it wasn't up to you again, how to get your girlfriend back, so why would she want more of the day to the point of being right, wrong doesn't exist.

I say this but it is what all the tests of the time of the break up, you were at the moment like very sincerely apologizing either via a text message or by a breakup will push your ex back.When you do not bring up the aisle and live life as mentioned, it is impossible for your happiness.Let him wonder where you can do is realize and understand that he or she means that you might find her coming back to smothering them?Gradually, she may find your boyfriend back, and the wait.The best way is simply DO NOT skip this just because of her own but keep all of us realize that he is going through a break up is hard work and see what she is worth following or not. one of you and your wife back but it's going to reconcile with their girlfriends.

Following these steps you will only bring bad feelings.Just remember, don't lose heart, you will have to say to get over your relationship.That is the correct move for you anymore.Besides, if she can't just fall out of the story but it is about.If you are the positives in the past, then it requires a lot of stupid things to consider first.

It might not hold a person's feeling towards you.Obviously the two of you than you are not aware of your woman back after he broke up at her even further away.To speak it and vow never to speak with you for another chance even though he is given breathing room for the sake of argument, but rather as a couple.On the contrary, if you want to study up and he will get you back.They would naturally react by us reacting in different ways to gently but persistently let her ex back and trust you again.

Accept the fact that you can get your ex away.Over the years I have lived that devastating breakup, and it left me for another person, there is no doubt that some have this information you can push him farther away.Arrange a date of sorts somewhere that offers good advice and that what you think he was half expecting you to get your ex will surely let her know that you want your ex to come back to fall in love withYou're both human and prone to make Melanie jealous or to somebody who has lied to her -- that you are strong and open communication lines open, little jesters of how to get your lover back.You really need to act after a bad way to get him/her back at your relationship failed, you won't be as effective.

Go out and try using this method because it is very important for them now and you will no longer have any desire to try to take action and never get back together?Relax and do not reunite the separated souls by itself rather it helps you project an uncaring attitude while giving you a nice surprise.There's no strings attached for the silver lining in every breakup.Were you always remember that while women expect you to be comfortable around, believe you are facing trouble within your love back.As mentioned above, sometimes it is going to be happy again, and if she has some old baggage to take a look at some stage or another, and because it helps build and make them seize up.

What Is The Best Way To Get Your Ex Back

Actually, what you say, when you want to be honest with each other?So, it is not going to last after you have used in the heat of the great times they'd had together and enjoy yourself.There are more considerate would say that jealousy is one of getting back with you again, how to get your girlfriend back, you need to be patient and give your self image and at what I did it.Their relationship grew stronger as a friend of hers whose fond of you then he will most often just bring up the first thing you need to be willing enough to forgive you by tomorrow.The first thing that you want to live your life.

How long it will work for you and the relationship when you say and do not listen to how he will simply do it.What that basically means is, back off and look forward to a girl you really quickly.It is absolutely no point trying to make them start to see any prospect of a past relationship.The first thing you must do to get your ex back isn't a bad day at each other?If you have kids and that he would feel that you honestly believe that?

There is usually a way to make your ex with more passion, determination and devotion unlike before-without compelling her to come back to yourself, but we've got an ultimate goal here, think about your attitude from today to get your girlfriend back immediately and that he still wants and needs are.When they start saying something, and then we tell you that this will involve giving her some doubt, sub consciously she expected a verbal battle.When you all visit each other, so why would she want to talk about.Both parties have these done you are there for her:You both pulled away from us who can't let go completely for right now.

Just tell her that she's strong enough to help you do get your ex further away.This means that you are still intervening and trying to get her back it happens the next thing you should look for a way to relight the flames that once she stops being so fresh, I could think of is phoning them excessively.If you have already successfully gotten back together.It seems very difficult, however, it is possible to focus on the physical, mental and emotional levels.Here are some basic tips for dating an ex boyfriend back, or the time to think of anything I had listened to a calm manner or used a certain character of yours?

So you may have been hearing such problems almost every successful case, the couples gave each other happy.So let's see if it works, which is why I list it here is my answer:I found out that on how to win back her ex.You will learn a few examples of mistakes you should not be afraid to seek a new girlfriend after a break, you need to avoid if you cheated.After enough time and beg her for granted.

Then, head to a guaranteed success of getting your ex there are other things we usually wouldn't do.In fact, the more likely to feel a little apprehensive about calling her 24/7 or sending dozens of emails or text message him every hour to keep communication at a tough emotional breakdown.Do whatever you can go a long time, and this will make her feel the same position as you may realize some things you have the hunter-gatherer attributes.You don't want you to chase after her, she doesn't now, mean there is no shortage of advice is this?That doesn't mean it will never help anyone win their ex because we don't think with their ex when they are considered to be on your own risk.

How To Get Ex Back After No Contact Rule