#mOLLY AND MOONWEAVER MY BELOVEDS

[dent-de-leon]

Just posting these pages here because I think there's just something so lovely about seeing the context for "Long may I reign." The fact that it isn't just tied to Molly's worship of the Moonweaver, but a line that comes from a story she personally shared with him. A song she sang to comfort him in this strange liminal space between dreams and waking, the brink of life and death. And there's just so many interesting little details in this one brief scene--

Lucien/Molly's soul being so tenacious and persevering that it even surprises a goddess herself. "Thrice upon a time. Can you believe it?" The fact that Lucien always dreamed of his happy ending, Once upon a time, and so that is how the Moonweaver frames Mollymauk's story, the hero and King of another romantic fairytale. Romance, tragedy, death, rebirth.

The Moonweaver herself appearing in a myriad of different shifting forms and personas--a comforting woman with a warm laugh, a delighted child with a haunting voice, slipping seamlessly from one role to the next--not unlike Molly himself, with his multiple incarnations in King and Lucien.

"Empty. Free. Obsessed.../Death-obsessed, but free." The gnawing Emptiness when Molly first woke was clawing, aching. Empty, but free--free to start over, to begin again, Twice upon a time, to fill that Emptiness with so much love and joy.

"Death-obsessed, but free." Is that how Lucien felt, in those final moments when he ceased to be and some part him became Molly? Lucien, who always feared this inevitable end, the absolute agony of being carved Empty like his brother--terrified of what might come after?

"Where I'm from, stranger, there is a song that goes--" Where I'm from? I just love that line, just the whole notion of a goddess sharing songs and stories from the place they call home with a mortal on the cusp of life and death. Is that the Celestial Plane? Or since this is the Moonweaver, could this be a tale from the Feywild? That would certainly be fitting for Mollymauk.

The fact that the Moonweaver tells of a King fated to die, but one who was very much beloved by his people, loved and mourned as Molly was. And just like Molly, his spirit returned from the dead to reign again. "For the dead yellow King,/A throng came and sang/On the longest day of rain/He would rise again/Long, long may he reign."

[ice-and-starlight]

It's been a few days, but if you were still interested in that ask meme....

M: Got any premises on the back burner that you’d care to share?

=D Yeay! An ask!

Hooooo, okay, so, I have a LOT of fanfic that I'm theoretically working on/daydreaming about that doesn't get shared, but, uh, lets see what's not too horrifying to share...

I spent a couple of weeks a few months ago binge-watching Criminal Minds, and got infected by a plotbunny of Dean Winchester/Aaron Hotchner(/Haley Brooks) as a sort of... fix it crossover where, because they're both protagonists from rather different genres, their different approach manages to fix things in the other 'verse.

As in, Dean kills Foyet in proper I'm-fresh-out-of-hell-and-you-did-WHAT-to-my-boyfriend?! style. With added bonus 'you think you're good with a knife? Boy, have I got some things to show you. Say hello to Alastair for me when you get down there'.

And Hotch (and the team) profile the fucking devil so well they manage to talk him down from trying to wipe out humanity. (He goes off to fuck up heaven instead.)

I've gotten bits and pieces of, well, backstory written up, plus some 'Dean meets the BAU' and 'Hotch meets hunters' scenes that I love, but I've gotten stuck on something really stupid and just haven't managed to get my brain to move past it, so I haven't actually written the parts I started writing the story for yet ^^" (this happens to me a lot).

What else?

I have been working, on and off, on a Critical Role Time Travel AU that's actually kind of a spin-off of my very first Critical Role fic which is 'Molly lives rent-free in Caleb's head for the entire rest of the campaign' because as I was watching it I was constantly thinking 'but how would Molly react to this?!' so I wrote it (some of it).

And then I thought 'okay, but what if, okay, I know time-travel is supposed to be semi-impossible, but what if it is technically POSSIBLE, it's just that going backwards through time essentially destroys the soul/spirit/whatever, EXCEPT, of course, that when Caleb does it, he has a BONUS SOUL coming along for the ride, and it's basically enough for Molly to get through more or less intact?'

And then the Moonweaver is like 'fuck, you are my Most Troublesome Worshipper, what am I going to do with you?' and Molly is, you know, themself, so the Moonweaver, also being a goddess of lovers trysts, nudges things until Lucien ends up with twin baby brothers (Molly and Kingsley are both Aspects of the same being, and thus inextricably linked, so bits and pieces of Kingsley got dragged along for the ride, only not enough for him to have more than Weird Instincts) and a bonus Moonweaver Cleric mum.

Was this an excuse to write canon!verse Tealeaf triplets? Yes. Yes it was.

Did it turn into a Ridiculous Epic Saga of the Tea Leaves (Molly, Kingsley, Caduceus, Keg, and Ophelia Mardun) treking across all of Wildmount trying to save people from the future and stumbling into messes along the way? Yes. Yes it did.

Did I actually manage to write any of the actual story? No. I wrote backstory instead, and ended up mostly writing about the adventures of two separate Parent Squads that are probably... 40-60% OCs? doing a tiny little Molly's bidding. It very much became a And You Get A Parent And You Get A Parent And You Get Three Parents story.

I have Such Plans for this AU (including, importantly, a Shadowidomauk endgame), but, alas, actually writing it is proving... difficult.

One more for luck?

Hmm... I have Ideas for a Peaky Blinders AU based on my Little Sallyanne fic? It's not very well fleshed out yet, but it definitely results in Sally murdering the shit out of her brother's terrible wife, adopting her nibling, and going on to severely fuck up nazis when WWII rolls around.

This one is Percolating, and I'm really not sure what I want to do with it, exactly. Just general Vibes of Tommy being the feral gremlin mentor to my beloved feral gremlin child. (Also, Sally getting semi-adopted by Alfie Solomons, maybe, because here's this child going around claiming to be Jewish when she's not, and Alfie's like 'no, either you fucking Stop That, or you commit to the fucking bit' and Sally's like '-starry eyes- Okay Dad'. I would have to do a lot of research to do this justice because I'm aware that I don't know enough to know how to write this properly ^^" Basically, I just want everyone adopting her like a starving feral cat who will absolutely bite the hand that feeds her)

Technically, I think you can say that things like Never Simple, Not All Who Wander, and the various other unfinished things on my writing blog are all on a backburner right now? As well as the next instalments in my Somewhere Just Beyond My Reach and Gramarye and Trapped In The Amber series also count. I am Thinking About Them a lot, but there's either not enough for me to get my teeth stuck into, or my teeth are stuck and I can't chew on them properly =P

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Fourteen things I noted about CR2E107 “Devoutness and Dicks”

"Thank you Sam ! You are a piece of shit." Awwww. (Yes yes watch the ad you'll understand why I say that)

D&D is peer pressuring your friends into giving 50 gold pieces to a (beloved) NPC, when you clearly wanted to keep your gold for your character.

No way this Moonweaver plan is gonna bite them in the ass. No sir !!

"Yasha is so Eurovision" YEAS SHE IS !!!!! this is the highest compliment

Caleb as the hype-magic-man for Jester is so cute. He loves her so much and she (probably) will never know.

I mean, I expected this as soon as Matt indicated there were dinosaus on this island. Let's go hunt a T-Rex !!!!

At the break, there was another video of the "The Legend of The Legend of Vox Machina" series !!! I love their passion. And this title.

I love how the cast is searching for an excuse as to why they're doing this : "It's for the meat !", "It's for the Traveler" etc etc. Where we know that it's because hunting a T-Rex is just super fucking cool, and you should do it should the occasion arrises.

I was feeling bad for the T-Rex and Matt at the beginning, because suprise round are nasty ; but when we learned that the attack on Beau with the Ray of Enfeeblement and the canceled crit did 34 points of damage... whereas it could have been 136 points... I FELT LESS BAD

Beau, a disaster lesbian, as she's grappled within a T-Rex mouth that just bit her for a lot of damage : "Yasha ! Yasha ! Are you watching ??!!"

Molly and the Nine Eyes ???? Travis saying "I'm only half-joking" when saying they should go dug up Molly. Considering what I know (which isn't much but I KNOW a certain purple tiefling got back at some point)... When the vision hit them after the Vokodo fight, I didn't think about it at all, but I saw on the theories from 2 years ago, and I'm blown away by what some have managed to guess. The connection with Molly is there, it's no coincidence ! I'm guessing that we will know more after TravelerCon 3000.

The last scene with Veth and Vilya, oh my heart. I will miss Vilya, not only because of her connection to Keyleth and the way it was revealed (amazing) but because she was a calming influence and was fun with the group. But the longing in her voice when she and Veth talked about kids growing far away and not being able to see them... "At some point, you have to go home".

Also this line, who described part of the Mighty Nein as an essemble : "I think we thrive on unfinished business"

KEYLETH WAS HERE FOR A SECOND. Truly the most character ever, she's in every campaign.

[wizardnuke]

rewatching c2 from the beginning. I missed molly soooo much also I love seeing the early dynamics as a whole it's so fun. they're all so mean and suspicious. except for jester ofc

[saphirered]

Hopefully, this is not too vague... I was wondering if you could do fluff with Molly; his nickname for the reader is 'princess'. (I have had a rough couple weeks, found out some bad news regarding my dad's health, and am just wanting a little pick-me-up. You are literally my favorite writer of the lavender tiefling trio.)

A load of fluff with some hinted spice coming right up. Sorry about your dad, sweetie and hope things take a more positive turn. Either way, I hope this is the pick-me-up you're looking for. 😘

-

You’re no stranger to waking up alone but never does it stop you from reaching out to the spot next to you. When you’re not met with a soft groan or arms wrapping around you, pulling you close begging for another five minutes of peace you know your lavender tiefling has begun his day before you. Rolling over onto your back you stretch taking in a deep breath. Time to get ready for the day, maybe find some breakfast? Breakfast sounds nice.

Mollymauk walks down the beaten path, a skip in his step and a small bouquet of wild roses clasped in his hand. He’s been up and about for a good hour now and like the good carney he is he’s working on quite the show in his mind; a show that requires the aid of a pretty face, charming smile and honeyed words he alone cannot provide. No he needs assistance and if he plans on getting this assistance he better work for it. Okay, maybe it’s not his plan. Maybe this is all just the result of a major fuck up on his end but still, it will make for some good fun… if all goes well… and you agree… The fact he gets to pamper you is a huge bonus. It’s been a while since he’s gotten the chance to show you just how much you mean to him.

Could Molly just ask for your help? Of course he could. And would you agree to join him on this endeavour? How could you refuse that devilishly handsome man? But where’s the fun in that. Let’s keep things interesting. Raise the stakes a little bit and see where his charm will get him. Or perhaps more, see how long it takes you to catch on tp the mess he made and pray to the Moonweaver you’ll be merciful. A test of his charm perhaps? Whatever excuse best justifies his actions and desires to spoil you rotten.

Stretching your arms with one final yawn you leave your tent. It’s too early to be up but you best keep an eye on your tiefling before he gets himself thrown into jail and you have to break him out… again. Wandering the camp the other members of the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities are waking up and going about their morning business at their own paces. You search for Molly but when you don’t find him you take to the road, following it towards the town. If he’s caused any trouble there you’d find out soon enough.

A lovely melody reaches Molly’s ears. He knows exactly who it belongs to and hears you before he sees you. All he needs to do is follow your song. Curving over the elevation of the path he spots you, lost in thought. Smile on his face he approaches you, flowers behind his back, and joins in whistling along to the melody. The way your eyes light up at the realisation of his presence are enough to make his heart melt knowing that one creature could look upon him with such unconditional love.

“Good morning, your royal highness.” Mollymauk takes a bow befitting of greeting royalty if not a little exaggerated and offers you the flowers. While he tries to keep his gaze on the ground you catch him peaking for your response as you take the flowers from his grasp breathing in their scent.

“Good morning to you too. And thank you, I should say? What’s the occasion?” You ask, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth but you can’t help feel a little suspicious at Molly’s very deliberate theatrics.

“Can a most loyal servant not present his beloved princess with flowers?” Molly rises and you get the slightest flash of fang from the smile he offers you.

“You know I am never one to deny your gifts and gestures of affection. What I’m referring to are your apparent needs for theatrics.” You speak with eloquence feeling yourself slipping into the same act he’s putting on. Dammit Mollymauk, for playing into your actor side and letting you slip up into the role he’s setting you up for. You know damn well he’s aware of what he’s doing.

“I am merely your humble servant. A humble servant with impeccable manners.” You snort as Molly offers you his arm. You lace yours through his and he begins leading you back the way you came.

“Impeccable manners you say? Because I recall not but two nights ago copious amounts of drinks, illegal gambling and theft were involved. And let’s not even mention the… desecration of the fountain within the gaze of the Platinum Dragon’s statue.”

“You say that as if those of noble birth do not partake in such activities, princess.” Molly counters. Touché. As you’re about to take a step to the right fork of the road Molly gently pulls you into the left direction instead. Confused you give him another suspicious look but he hushes you leading you down the path.

You find yourself retreating within your thoughts trying to pinpoint whatever shenanigans Molly is up to, planning or has been up to and why the need to be secretive instead of just telling you. Molly couldn’t hope for a better moment for you to stop your interrogation for he fears any more prodding around for answers and he will spill the beans and come clean. He can’t hide a single thing from you when you’re determined and he knows it.

The path slowly turns from trodden earth to more fine sand until it fades into the beach. The sound of waves and a seagull or two make for a pleasant setting. You see just far enough away from the shoreline as to not become victim to the tides, is a basket set on top of a blanket. Molly leads you over, guides you to sit upon the blanket gracefully before plopping down himself with much less show. Within the basket you spot several packed goods. Molly takes a few out and sets them down upon the blanket, unwrapping them as he goes. Some bread, a selection of fine jams, some cheese and delicious sugary sweet pastries.

“Okay, time to drop the act. While I appreciate all this, what did you do and how bad is it?” Molly takes out a bottle of what looks like expensive champagne along with two glasses and pours them, handing one to you.

“What makes you say that?” Molly takes a sip playing it cool and innocent.

“The top shelf bottle of champagne that is very much above our collective pay grades. Where did you even get this?” You take a sip. It’s not bad but not the greatest you’ve ever had either. A weird taste that can only be suitable for some upscale party or the nobility passes out to their guests to impress them simply because of the associated name and or price tag. What can you say? Rich people.

Molly hesitates but drops the innocent act. Best he comes clean now. You’ve caught on fully. Game over. But that definitely doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy this delicious breakfast with him, can you? Mollymauk takes a slice of the fresh bread, adding a nice layer of strawberry jam and takes a bite. At least the expensive jam was worth the money. Then again, it wasn’t his money that paid for it. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t money well spent.

“Now, I need you to promise me one thing first, love. Promise me you’ll let me tell you the whole thing before you judge my poor decision making.”

“I can do that.” You lean back and relax taking one of the pastries and taking a bite. Bearclaws with cinnamon? Delicious. Let’s hope for Molly’s sake it will keep your judgement somewhat at bay.

“When we were doing our usual rounds and you were off on your own I may or may not have let it slip to someone who happens to be part of the local nobility, several someones to be more precise, that you may or may not be a princess in hiding. And I may or may not have played a little bit too deeply into the story…”

“Okay, that’s not actually that bad?” Just wait for the second part. It gets worse. On second thought. He may be regretting telling you and not just convincing you to hide away for the next few days in town until you’re back on the road.

“And these poor suckers may have fact checked it finding some evidence of a princess from another continent who supposedly is traveling in disguise. They came to see the show and I want you to remember they left a most generous donation along with an invitation for you to attend a ball held in your honour.” Molly awaits your response as you stop mid bite.

“So they left an invitation for a princess? What about it? Just don’t show up and done.”

“That would work if the local lord did not gently hinted at exposing said princess and sending the guards to return them to their family as they ran away and the good favour of either side of that royal family should greatly benefit this town. I’m sorry, princess but your presence has been demanded.”

Okay… This is bad. You do not feel like being hunted by the guards and it’s not like you can make an inconspicuous escape now people might look at you as royalty. You set down the pastry clasp your hands together closing your eyes. You inhale and exhale deeply as Molly briefly fears for his life.

“You… really need to learn to hold that tongue of yours, Molly. It’s getting you in all sorts of trouble.” He bites back a comment about using that tongue of his for plenty of other good things. He’s having trouble reading where you stand on this all and doesn’t know wether you’re upset with him or disappointed or if he has to be the one running for his life soon.

“Let’s talk to Orna and get some appropriate dress for the occasion ready and wearable even if that means she’ll have to sew us into our garments.” You sigh.

“Us?” He questions and he does not like the mischievous look on your face. Whatever you’re plotting, he hopes you have mercy on his soul.

“Oh, I will not be attending on my own. No, a princess does not go anywhere without their loyal servant. A princess needs their escort to attend to their every whim.” You hold your chin high as you move to sitting on your knees pushing your palm flush against his chest exercising a little pressure to push him to lean back onto his elbows.

“Every whim you say?” Molly asks with a devilish grin as you swing one leg over him gently keeping him in place with your body and wrapping your arms around his neck playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck. Maybe the turnout isn’t so bad.

“‘Every whim you say, princess’.” You correct mimicking his grin and leaning in closer. Molly goes to close the distance but you raise your index finger to his chin. “Ah-ah.”

“May I not kiss you now, ‘princess’?” He mocks and you give him a stern look.

“It’s unbecoming of a mere servant to make such a bold move.” You pull on his hair when Molly tries to land a kiss on your cheek rather enjoying the turn of events this morning.

“Yet you appear to be the one in full control.”

“He knows his place. Good boy.” You praise with a pat to his cheek and you guide his face to yours, your lips meeting in a deep kiss, the food forgotten. Molly’s hands dance over from your hips to your lower back pulling you closer to him. You earn an unsatisfied grumble when you pull away a moment too soon.

“Must you torture me so with your touch, princess?” Molly laughs fully aware what direction this is going, raising a hand to caress your cheek fondly.

“Will you finally learn how to behave?” You trace the peacock feathers curving up the side of his neck and jaw. You don’t get a verbal reply but instead Molly’s lips find their way to your neck leaving a trail of kisses and little bites as he goes enough to make you giggle and squeal in surprise whenever he finds just the right spot, taking your mind far away from the details of the fuck up that lead you here in the first place. Not that you mind anymore. If this is the treatment you get for being dragged into one of Mollymauk’s lies gone south you’ll gladly take it a thousand times over.

[grayintogreen]

Here's kind of a random thing but I've been thinking about it lately so

I've been thinking about Molly multiclassing, because 1. I think it'd be cool and 2. if he survived/was revived after the Glory Run Road incident, I think he'd be hesitant to keep using his blood powers because what if That happens again?

Any ideas on what class he'd pick? I can't decide lol. I'm mainly torn between bard and ranger.

I love Bard!Molly so much but he does not have the charisma for it and I like that it's part of his character that he's a low charisma con artist. However, in a class swap AU I will throw down for Bard Molly EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

Now for me, I love keeping Molly as a Bloodhunter, because I'm asshole who likes suffering, which means I've never thought about it until just now. HOWEVER... NOW THAT YOU HAVE ASKED, I AM THINKING ABOUT IT. AND I HAVE THOUGHTS.

I love Ranger, actually. Ranger plays very nicely with Bloodhunter and if you go Horizon Walker, it basically gives you a lot of the same stuff that a Ghostslayer would get (INCLUDING ETHEREAL STEP MY BELOVED). Also one of the extra perks is Detect Portal which allows you to detect extraplanar rifts which would be CLUTCH during the Obann Arc.

There's also a lot of teleportation magic involved (which Molly LOVES)- Misty Step, so he could use it with his sword AND as a ranger spell, and then Distant Strike, which lets you just zip in and beat the shit out of randos.

Hell, at 15th level, you can basically make yourself resistant to a type of damage as a reaction so if he took a HUGE HIT, he could use his reaction and halve the damage.

All in all, it's a really good class that works well with what he has without the bloodletting.

But as a class I think MOLLY would pick? That goes along with what the party would need at that moment, lines up with who he is as a character, and just suits his personal aesthetic and not the aesthetic that Lucien built (though again Molly would be all in for fucking teleportation murder magic)?

Cleric. AND I AM NOT SAYING THIS BECAUSE I LOVE CLERICS. HEAR ME OUT. (@circuslollipop , this one is for you)

I feel like, assuming we don't get Caduceus in this scenario (and hell even if we did- obviously I'm not gonna say no to three clerics), that Molly would see how fucked they were without Jester and be like HEY MOON MOM I'M SCARED THE BLOOD MAGIC IS WEIRD and could probably end up becoming a cleric of the Moonweaver in kind of a similar situation as Fjord became a paladin- maybe it would help him combat Lucien's Badness.

Specifically, a Twilight Cleric, and they are CLUTCH. Molly would get Tiny Hut too as a domain spell, so if Caleb couldn't cast it (or if they wanted more space), then they would have TWO huts. Plus Greater Invisibility as a domain spell.

Eyes of Night means he could share his super special awesome ULTRA DARKVISION with Caleb or someone else who doesn't have darkvision. Steps of Night means you can FLY for a minute (HE AND YASHA COULD FLY TOGETHER.) That's only SOME of the perks.

Those are the two big ones that I think work nicely with either what Molly already has or make sense for his character.

[circuslollipop]

Jester and Essek?

JESTER:

Why I like them: ksdjhf where do i BEGIN. she's that one character who was INSTANTLY my favorite; i fell in love with her voice, her demeanor, her personality, everything! but i also love her and relate to her on a deeper level--how she's seen as less mature because of her likes and hobbies, how she represses her negative emotions for fear of making other people hurt or uncomfortable, growing up isolated. also i really love her creativity and her growth from someone sheltered to someone with a bit more worldly experience who takes initiative, but in that growth she never lets go of her love for unicorns or fairy tales or the color pink or her joy and kindness and belief in the best of people! i love her so much

Why I don’t: literally nothing i can put here she's great

Favorite scene: the tarot reading on lucien that was INCREDIBLE

Favorite season/movie: i cant pick a favorite arc w her shes great all the time!!

Favorite line: "something must end for something new to begin" but also "let chaos reign"

Favorite outfit: ALL OF THEM but if we're going by purely official art then her xhorhas outfit. but if we look at my tweaks to the outfits then the winter one becomes my favorite

OTP: JESTERMAUK but i also ship her with beau, yasha, and calianna

Brotp: jester essek besties for the win also team cleric good

Head Canon: bi grayro/grayce jester my beloved

Unpopular opinion: kinda wish we got more time for jester introspection/inner conflict in the travelercon arc? it got kinda wrapped up pretty neatly and i do wish we could've gotten more conflict. i do like that her friendship w artagan was reaffirmed in the end, but idk i do wish there were some more challenges thrown her way in that regard and that would make it all the more satisfying to see her rise above it all and fight for her beliefs and win in the end. also ngl some of the shipping discourse i see is Weird and im just gonna leave it at that. also there's more to jester's humor than d!ck jokes and i kinda don't like how one-note it all started to become in the later episodes

A wish: continuing from the first point in the unpopular opinion section, would have LOVED to see the timeline where the traveler actually was taken to the feywild and jester turned to the moonweaver for help. while her faith in artagan is definitely strong in canon i feel like that kind of arc would have made her faith feel even STRONGER. also i wanna see her feywild adventures

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: please don't let her """mature""" out of her hobbies and interests let her become a little old lady who still loves unicorns and stories and pink

5 words to best describe them: chaotic, vibrant, joyful, strong, lively

My nickname for them: another canon nickname but i do call her jessie or jes sometimes

ESSEK:

Why I like them: oh golly gee ANOTHER character i relate to! gifted kid burnout syndrome my beloathed. mainly the experience of being considered a prodigy early in life and then expected to preform to that standard every time. also i LOVE essek's arc and his character development, he grew from someone cold and isolating to someone who cries over a person he didn't even know (mollymauk) and all that growth was SO satisfying to watch. easily my favorite character arc

Why I don’t: n/a

Favorite episode (scene if movie): episode 91 was SO GOOD

Favorite season/movie: despite being a Molly Stan, essek was easily my favorite part of the aeor arc! (mostly bc the molly and lucien stuff made me stressed and emotional while watching; essek was nothing but satisfying to watch) anyway i loved being able to see that growth in real time!

Favorite line: "it's not fair" AAAH the heartbreak and also i cant remember any other essek lines atm RIP

Favorite outfit: out of all the different interpretations of his mantle i do like the munchkin interpretation (aka kyotosparty's) the best!

OTP: SHADOWGAST but i do also like shadowmauk

Brotp: jester essek besties

Head Canon: short essek fave essek

Unpopular opinion: i dont think i have one?

A wish: if the m9 ever get an animated series, i hope essek gets more lines and more chances to give his input once they get to the aeor arc! i understand that matt was juggling SO MUCH at the time so i def see why it didn't happen during the actual show. also i would love to see more adventuring essek as well as an origins comic

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: that after the m9 are all gone, that he doesn't ever find happiness again and slips back into loneliness. i would like to think he's able to find more friends, more adventures, and more love while still honoring his old ones, and he's able to live a long and happy life

5 words to best describe them: complex, relatable, flawed, hopeful, ninth

My nickname for them: i dont have one for him i dont think

[mollymauk-teafleak]

the one who blooms in the bitter snow (final part)

Oh my god have I dragged this out. Sincerest apologies on how long this happy ending took to get here

--------

Caduceus often talked to things that couldn’t talk back. He talked to his plants, encouraging them through the winter and complimenting them on their leaves and shoots. He talked to the army of mismatched mugs he used in his cafe, admonishing any who spilled things or who strayed from their intended arrangement on the shelves that made sense only to Caduceus. He talked to the clouds in the sky, thanking them for much needed rain. He talked to the insects that visited his cemetery, any worms found on the path that he would gently pick up and promise to see safely back to the soil, any bees that roamed the flowering plants, even any lizards he found sunning themselves in the rockery.

He didn’t say anything wrong with talking to things that could give no reply. It wasn’t as if such a minor detail meant such things couldn’t listen. Often, in fact, he thought it made them much better listeners than anything with a voice box.

However, one thing he hadn’t ever really found himself doing was talking to the dead.

It would have made sense, as much as talking to rotting corpses beneath the ground could ever make sense. Caduceus was surrounded by them every day, after all, a patchwork family of people all united only by the fact that the Blooming Grove had become their final resting place. He tended them, wreathed them in wilderness, watched over their loved ones in his cafe whenever they would come to visit them. Keeping them safe was the calling he’d chosen. But he never spoke to them.

Perhaps he’d just come to the quiet conclusion that the dead were past caring about his words. They’d left the cares of the living world behind them and nattering on to them about it would spoil the reverence they deserved, interrupt the sleep they’d earned.

They were the Wildmother’s now, after all.

But now Caduceus found himself with a pressing need to cross that line he’d set for himself. He needed to talk to one of his residents, whether they replied or not.

And he got the feeling they would want to hear from him just as desperately.

Caduceus had to smile weakly at the surname, however nervous he was.

Tealeaf. How appropriate.

He cleared his throat awkwardly and sat cross legged at the foot of the grave. It had been there long enough for the grass to grow back over the turned earth, as lush and tall as everything that surrounded it but it was still clearly one of the newer ones. The stone wasn’t yet weathered by time, perfectly readable, still cool grey marble that shone faintly in the morning light.

Mollymauk Tealeaf. Beloved husband and father.

No date. That was passing strange. Though maybe seeing the scant handful of decades Molly had been allowed when he should have had so much more time to be a father, time to be a husband, would just be too painful.

The insignia of the Moonweaver was artfully carved below the short epitaph, a sign that was rarely seen in the graveyard. Of course, godly symbols were on nearly every headstone but it was always the more common, more acceptable gods. The All Hammer, the Raven Queen, the Dawnfather; dependable, parental gods that people wanted to guard them through their lives and walk with their loved ones into the next realm.

The Moonweaver was light, love, laughter, frivolity. Did she feel lost in a place like this?

Caduceus cleared his throat, unsure how to start. He had the depressing realisation that even in a conversation with a dead man, he was still on the back foot in terms of social skills.

“I...I’m not sure how you feel about me, Mr Tealeaf,” he eventually sighed, “I don’t think I could blame you for hating me. Resenting me, at least. You know the kind of thoughts I’ve had about Caleb.”  

Habit made him pause, though he knew he’d get no reply. So he just sat silently with his guilt for a heartbeat.

“But...I think you’d agree he wasn’t coping well before I met him. I know that must break your heart. Same as it breaks mine.”

The wind picked up a little, a mournful sound through the trees up above.

“I can’t lie and say I don’t have feelings for him. But the last thing I want to do is hurt him more or… or push him into something he isn’t ready for. And… if I thought my loving him would do that, I would have stopped immediately. But something tells me he...he could...I mean we could…” Caduceus spluttered to a stop, giving up with a heavy sigh, “But after last night… I don’t know anymore. Maybe I’m just sitting here talking to the wind, telling myself what I want to hear.”

He felt tears sting his eyes and blinked quickly to try and clear them, “I don’t want to feel wrong for loving someone. He’s yours, Molly, he will always be yours but couldn’t I just… look after him? Until he goes to join you? Just a turn…”

His voice choked off and he had to swallow hard to get the next words out.

“Am I wrong to want that?”

The wind died down and Caduceus was left with next to silence. He felt a tiredness crash over him, so deep and heavy, that for a long moment he felt certain he was just going to curl up on the ground and cry for a little while.

What distracted him was a bird call. It was shrill and sudden, like nothing normally heard in the gardens and Caduceus knew the names of every bird who visited the Blooming Grove throughout the year. He tried to place it but it only rang out the once. There was something almost exotic about it, something unusual. Caduceus thought for a moment, considering all the birds he knew. It was almost like a cockatiel or a parrot or maybe even a peacock.

He frowned. What on earth would a peacock be doing in his graveyard?

He stood up, brushing himself off. He knew he should do a round, just in case someone’s exotic pet bird had escaped and needed to be brought back home.

Anyway, it was clear Mollymauk Tealeaf had nothing to say to him.

Caduceus rarely wore any kind of coat, his fur kept him plenty warm, but the weather had grown so cold recently that he’d dug out the fleece lined, faded, patched coat he kept in reserve for the days when the city froze solid and there was ice on the pavements.

Despite the closed sign on the door, it was warm inside the cafe. Caduceus felt ever so slightly better once the cold leached out of the tips of his ears and the very end of his nose, replaced by the gentle music, the warmth, the scents of caffeine and sugar that he knew so well. It wouldn’t fix things, he knew that, but it gave him the sense that he’d entered somewhere safe.

Sighing softly, Caduceus shrugged out of his coat and made to hang it on the hooks by the door, all of them charmingly mismatched as everything was in here. The hooks that should be empty, seeing as he’d had no customers since the day before yesterday.

But it wasn’t.

Caleb’s scarf was hanging on the furthermost hook, looking sad and bedraggled after being soaked through in yesterday afternoon’s rain and drying out in the air.

It must have been hung up there as Caleb had stripped down, set aside from the rest of his clothes, forgotten in his hurried flight from the cafe.

Caduceus let out a long, tired exhale, trying to accept this new information without bitterness or resentment, without exasperation or anger at something he couldn’t change.

But gods above, it was hard.

He was nowhere near ready to face him again. Since everything that had happened, less than twenty four hours ago, he wasn’t even sure Caleb would want to see him ever again, he certainly didn’t look the type to face up to an awkward situation, more the bolting and hiding like a frightened animal type. And he had no clue what he himself wanted.

All he knew right now was that the thought of Caleb without his scarf, without the thing he clung onto tightly when he couldn’t cling onto the person he’d lost, broke his heart. And he had to fix it.

Above all else, Caduceus was a fixer. Even when it meant risking his own feelings.

“Are we gonna go to the cafe today?”

Caleb looked up from stroking his neck sadly, feeling the horrible, gnawing absence of his scarf, and tried to focus on his son, sat on the carpet with a picture book.

“No, liebling, I don’t think so. It’s...it’s so cold out,” he said awkwardly, tripping over the lie.

Trinket frowned, plucking at the pages of his book, “But we go on Fridays. We go after school.”

His little boy was fiercely attached to patterns and routine, just like Caleb himself.

“I know, Trinket,” Caleb struggled to muster the energy to mollify him, curled up tightly on the sofa, feeling lost and disconnected, “Papa’s just not really feeling it today, okay?”

Trinket paused at that, looking at him with familiar, wide red eyes that would never fail to shake his papa to the core when he saw them. Leaving his picture book behind, he pattered up and hugged Caleb’s leg tightly, the one that was dangling listlessly over the edge of the sofa.

“It’s okay, papa,” he said, voice muffled by Caleb’s pant leg, “Its okay to have a sad day.”

Caleb often thought his son was magic. Not in the way his papa was- not yet- but magic in his own way where he could make the world seem like it wasn’t ending.

Trying not to cry because then the floodgates would open and he’d truly be in trouble, Caleb ruffled those purple curls and smiled shakily, “I love you, Trinket. You know that, right?”

He smiled brightly, “Sure! I know! I’m gonna go play with my legos, papa, okay?”

Caleb nodded fondly, his son had been obsessed with building things and quickly destroying them for a good few weeks now, “Sure. Call me when you’re done and I’ll help you clear them away.”

Happy with that, Trinket scampered off, probably already imagining himself crashing through newly constructed towers like a lavender godzilla. Caleb watched him go, a tender smile on his face until he disappeared from view, when it slid off his face.

He felt like all he did these days was wait for 3pm. Like as soon as he waved goodbye to Trinket at the school gate everything froze and went into stasis, everything straining towards that hour where he could go back and have Trinket by his side again. He knew he adored school, he knew he was safe there.

He knew he was crazy to feel this way.

But it didn’t stop the feelings.

Caleb told himself every morning at a quarter to nine that he shouldn’t be doing this. It was far too much to put onto his young son, it was unhealthy, it was unfair. He deserved a life of his own, Trinket needed him to have it too.

But every time Caleb thought it, he thought it in Caduceus’ voice. And, since he’d messed up so badly yesterday, that was a problem.

He had messed up. He’d messed up more spectacularly than he’d ever messed up before which was really saying something for Caleb. He’d hurt the first person in years who’d made him even begin to think that he could be loved again in that kind of way.

He’d always suspected that Molly was a chance in a million, some high level miracle. Actually finding someone so wonderful, someone who could see some good in him. But then it had actually happened again, when he needed it most.

And both times he’d completely ruined it.

He’d lost Molly. He’d lost Caduceus. He’d lost his scarf which, he knew was silly, but it felt like the first loss all over again. Though maybe it was a fitting sacrifice for what he’d done.

How many precious things could he lose before he was just deemed too careless to live? How long until whatever curse he had infected Trinket?

Caleb could almost feel all the progress he’d made in the last few weeks unravelling like a trailing thread he’d worried far too much falling into nothing. He sat there and rocked gently, trying to take in deep breaths and stay in the room but it was getting increasingly difficult.

Especially when a knock came at the door.

Trinket didn’t hear it, he was behind his bedroom door, singing loudly to himself, a happy little nonsense song he’d clearly just made up to amuse himself. So Caleb forced himself to stand and go to the door, mentally slapping himself, telling himself to get a grip.

All that went out of the window when he opened the door and saw Caduceus.

“You’re...you’re here,” Caleb said dumbly, throat feeling numb like he’d just swallowed a mouthful of ice water.

“I’m here,” Caduceus returned awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot.

There were snowflakes melting in his hair. When had it started to snow?

“I didn’t think…I mean, I didn’t expect you to ever…” the starts of sentences crowded in Caleb’s mouth, none of them accompanied by ends. He didn’t want to sound whiney, he didn’t want to sound like Caduceus was wrong to be mad at him.

“You didn’t think I’d want to see you again?” Caduceus finished it for him, tilting his head to one side.

“Yeah,” Caleb bit his lip, feeling his cheeks burn despite the cold air sweeping into the apartment alongside Cad.

“Of course you did,” the firbolg said quietly, “You’re you.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say to that, he just kind of took hold of it like a present he hadn’t been expecting.

“I brought your scarf back,” he produced it from one pocket, carefully folded and clearly having just come through the dryer, back to full fluffiness, “You must have left it yesterday.”

Caleb felt a rush of relief, a compulsion to gather it into his arms and clutch it to his chest, inhale the scent of vanilla and anise that wasn’t there anymore but he could imagine it was.

And then he felt guilty.

Was he going to spend the rest of his life chasing after things he could only half remember rather than seeing what was in front of him?

“Thank you, Caduceus,” he murmured, “I really, really appreciate it.”

That brought a smile from the firbolg, even if it was a little strained at the edges, “Yeah… I guess I also came over because I was hoping we could talk?”

Caleb nodded, thinking anxiously of Trinket but he could explain to him that Caduceus was here for a visit. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been here before, dropping off homemade baked goods or little gifts like the scent bags that had soothed his anxiety so well and helped Trinket with his bad dreams. Trinket had always been happy to see him before, showing him whatever he’d built that day, showing him the art project he’d made at school from the leaves they’d gathered together at the Blooming Grove.

Caduceus was always so soft and gentle with Trinket. He always seemed to know just what to say, to answer his million a minute questions, to soothe him when he stumbled into some uncertainty, to make him giggle so hard he had to sit down. Caduceus was exactly the kind of caregiver Caleb wanted to be. He was exactly who Trinket deserved.

“Can I get you a drink?” Caleb asked as Caduceus sat on the sofa, holding himself a little stiffly like he wasn’t sure where to put his gangly limbs.

“Um…sure?”

Caleb let himself sink into a kind of automation as he got cups, boiled water, found teabags from the collection that had been growing ever since Caduceus had come into his life. But then there were soft billows of scented steam to breathe in and he woke up again, reminding himself to be present. Caduceus deserved better than that. And maybe he did too.

“Here,” he passed one mug to Caduceus, slightly regretting that it was patterned with badly faded cartoon characters but their selection wasn’t great, “I, um, I used the cinnamon tea you gave me yesterday. You were just out in the snow and I don’t want you to get sick.”

The smile was more genuine this time, warmer, like the starting embers of a fire, “Thank you, Caleb. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, sitting down beside him, hands curled around his own cup to stop them shaking. There was a long moment of silence, as they both sat and remembered another evening much like this one. Eventually Caleb opened his mouth but Caduceus got there first, spilling his words out like he couldn’t bear to hold them inside himself any more.

“Caleb, I…if I made you feel pressured yesterday or…or I pushed you into kissing me in any way, I’m so sorry…”

Caleb blinked for a second and then found himself laughing, “And you were so sure I’d be torturing myself…”

Caduceus’ ears flattened and he chuckled uncertainly which Caleb took to be the fur covered individual’s way of blushing, “Well, we can both be as bad as each other.”

“I kissed you, Caduceus,” Caleb shook his head, “It was my choice. And… I know how it ended and I wouldn’t blame you for not trusting me but it really was you I wanted to kiss. I promise.”

“Really?” Caduceus fixed him with dark, wet eyes. The doubt stung a little but of course, he knew he deserved it.

“Really,” he nodded firmly, “You’ve been so good to me, to Trinket. You’ve made one of the hardest times in my life feel… bearable.”

Caduceus only nodded, a crease of concern appearing between his eyes. He simply waited for Caleb to say more.

Caleb looked down into his drink, “I thought time was supposed to heal me, I thought it was supposed to make it easier. But the further away I get from losing him, the more part of me holds on. It’s like I don’t want the pain to go because then… then I really will have nothing left of him.”

“When you’ve felt a certain way for so long, it’s hard to let go of it,” Caduceus said slowly, thoughtfully, “Because then you don’t know what would be left if you took that part of yourself away.”

Caleb nodded, “Exactly. And… and it was the same when I started having feelings for you. That would mean letting go of at least some of my grief and stepping into uncertainty. And the idea terrifies me.”

Caduceus gave a soft sigh, “I would never ask you to abandon your grief, Caleb. It’s important that you always mourn Mollymauk. All I want is for you to have something happy alongside that.”

Caleb felt his lower lip wobbling dangerously, “I want that. I really want that, Cad.”

The words made an old, angry guilt twist inside him but it was a relief as well. And as the seconds went by, as he realised the truth of what he’d just said, the guilt lost its fury. It lost its anger. It shrank a little, the slightest, smallest amount into something that couldn’t be ignored but could at least be carried.

“We can go as slow as you need to, Caleb,” Caduceus’ voice was tender and he leant forward, looking like he was itching to hold him and press him close.

But he didn’t close the gap between them. And he never would, not until he knew Caleb was completely okay. Years could and would pass between them and Caduceus would never lose that respect for him.

So Caleb took the front of his moss green shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. And he would, time and time again.

Though, a hair’s breadth after their lips met there came the sound of a muffled but still loud crash from Trinket’s bedroom, followed by a loud excited whooping from the young boy.

“Oh dear…” Caleb murmured anxiously, eyes on the door. Though whether he meant the crash and the inevitable mess it had led to or the realisation that he would have to explain to Trinket why Caduceus was here and why he was kissing him, he wasn’t sure.

Caduceus seemed to read his mind, those dark eyes always seeing more than what was in front of them, “Caleb, if you’re happy, I’m sure he won’t mind. He’s a smart kid. After all, he’s yours.”

Caleb had to laugh softly at that, blushing a little. It was true, he could compliment his son to the stars and often miss the fact that most of the things he was praising were inherited from him. But the depths of kindness he almost couldn’t fathom, the understanding and gentleness that was going to make him delighted that his papa had found someone new to love, that was all Mollymauk.

And as long as Caleb had Trinket, Molly would never be gone.

[moiraineswife]

Passing Through Fire - A Widomauk Fic

A new age of man has come and gone in the time it’s taken me to write this damned thing but it is HERE. a thousand blessings upon my mini critter pit for supporting this. you know who y’all are <3 The widomauk discord is also probably at least partially to blame, too, and I know y’all know who you are. So. Without further ado: 

Title: Passing Through Fire

Summary: 'Mollymauk tasted like fire, and for the first time in too long, Caleb Widogast was not afraid.' Molly and Caleb's first time sleeping together, Caleb has some misgivings, and Molly helps him to work through them. NSFW. Explicit Content. 

Teaser: It was a heady thing, to be so free of fear. He had forgotten what that felt like. Even though, once, a hundred lifetimes ago, the boy he had been had known that feeling so thoroughly, it had destroyed him, and all those he held dear. He had never thought to taste this again, had never wanted to taste this again, this blissful calm, this ignorant peace, this infinite trust in himself, and in another. Then he had met Mollymauk. 

Link: AO3

Mollymauk tasted like fire, and for the first time in too long, Caleb Widogast was not afraid.

There was always a heat to the tiefling. His skin burned as though his veins ran with flames, instead of blood. It had always seemed counterintuitive to Caleb that he radiated such heat, such warmth, such life, but the power that he channelled from his blood was ice.  

Caleb’s back hit a wall, but he barely noticed. Molly’s forked tongue was pressing gently against his lips, and as he parted them and opened for him, he was aware of nothing but the consuming heat of being with his partner.

He was at the centre of an inferno, an inferno that he had not created, and it caused everything but the person he danced within these flames with to fade, like a swirl of ash lost amidst a hurricane’s winds.

Caleb melted gladly into Molly’s heat, felt his tongue press into his mouth and moaned softly into it. He felt Molly’s hand sink into his thick hair, felt the tips of his claws scrape his skull, and still he was not afraid.

It was a heady thing, to be so free of fear. He had forgotten what that felt like. Even though, once, a hundred lifetimes ago, the boy he had been had known that feeling so thoroughly, it had destroyed him, and all those he held dear. He had never thought to taste this again, had never wanted to taste this again, this blissful calm, this ignorant peace, this infinite trust in himself, and in another.

Then he had met Mollymauk.

Like so much else, Molly had changed this about him. He had taken away his fear. He had taken away the all-consuming fear that had laced his every breath since he had come back to himself and remembered what he’d done, and why.

He no longer feared the flames, or the heat. Molly was a fire himself, bound into the form of a tiefling by his beloved Moonweaver. He burned whenever Caleb touched him. And Caleb burned with him. It felt good. It felt better than good. It felt divine.

“Caleb,” Molly whispered against his lips, his voice almost hoarse.

His clawed fingers were deft, and always surprisingly gentle to Caleb, as all touches were, as they moved from his back to the front of his coat and picked apart the toggles. He didn’t push the coat from his shoulders, but he let it hang, and pressed his palms flat against Caleb’s chest with a soft moan.

Caleb looked into his eyes, burning red, without iris or pupil, they were easier to have look into him than others. They were not intent and piercing onto a spot, feeling as though they were stripping him bare, laying his soul before them, and judging every inch of his being.

He did not feel vulnerable when Molly looked at him. He felt quite the reverse. He felt powerful. Those red eyes were burning with hot, molten awe, reverence thrumming through him with every heaving pulse of his chest as he fought for breath.

He had done this to him. He had done it. Mollymauk was always so composed, so nonchalant, so comfortably confident in every situation. And he could make him melt. He could make him weak. He could make him get down on his knees and beg if he wished it. The thought made him shudder faintly. Having that much control over another person was terrifying, and it almost made him break all over again. Someone trusting him that much, that they would willingly put their heart in his hands, then close his fingers over it, was too much.

He lowered his head, and, as he always did, Molly seemed to know just what to do. He slid a clawed finger beneath Caleb’s chin and raised it, leaned in, and kissed him once more. And again, Caleb let himself get lost in the pulsing heat of his partner.

Heat pulsed in Caleb’s core and he realised that he wanted this. He wanted Mollymauk, more than he had wanted anything this real, this good in a long time. That scared him, too. And Molly knew that. Molly knew that this act of intimacy, this act of trust, this thing terrified him. So it would have to be his choice. He would have to initiate, he would have to want, and own that desire, that power he had over Molly, that power to choose whether or not they took this step.

With a deep breath, he let the kiss fade, gentle and inevitable as the sea rushing against a beach, then pulling once more back into the safety of its heart. Then he reached out and tangled his fingers with Molly’s and dew him slowly, deliberately, back to the bed.

Molly’s eyes widened slightly, but he allowed himself to be led through his surprise without resistance.

Caleb sat down, and drew Molly with him, who looked breathless as he reached out and cupped Caleb’s cheek in his hand, claws scraping gently against the newly forming stubble on his jaw.

“You’re sure?” Molly whispered, his voice hoarse and ragged, as though he had not used it for days.

Caleb nodded, “I am sure. I want this. I want you, but...” he trailed off, flushing, lowering his eyes.

“But?” Molly prompted gently.

“I am afraid,” Caleb admitted.

The naked truth felt as vulnerable as it would have baring his body.

Molly softened the hand against his cheek, brushed it with his knuckles and said softly, “We can go slow, love. I promise I don’t bite.” Caleb looked up to see Molly’s grin, and the sparkle in his eyes before he cocked his head to one side and added coyly, “Unless you ask me for it.”

“Molly,” Caleb said, each word slow and deliberate, as though he weighed it on his tongue before letting it spill out. He covered the tieflings hand with his own, which trembled slightly, though neither of them called attention to that. “It is not you that I am afraid of.”

“Caleb,” Molly whispered softly, reaching out and cupping his cheek again, such a tender expression on his face that it made Caleb want to die right there in that moment.

“Don’t,” Caleb said, voice cracking slightly, “Please, please don’t do that, Mollymauk.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and reached out and brushed his fingers over the exposed triangle of lavender skin at his chest.

“Just,” he breathed, leaning in and dragging his lips down to Molly’s neck.

Molly keened softly and tilted back his head, giving him better access on instinct it seemed. His hand slid around to Caleb’s back and held him firmly, the points of his claws digging into his back. Caleb carded his fingers through Molly’s hair and sucked gently over the red eye on the peacock tattoo, which made Molly moan.

“Let me take care of you,” Caleb breathed in Molly’s ear, dragging his lips to his mouth and kissing him. “Please,” he breathed, tugging gently on Molly’s earlobe with his teeth, “Let me take care of you, Mollymauk.”

“I mean,” Molly said, grinning but breathless, a darker flush suffusing his skin, “If you insist.”

Caleb all but pounced on him. Pushing him back down onto the bed he eased off the brightly patterned coat the tiefling always wore. It slipped, headed for the ground, but he caught it, and folded it gently on top of the desk instead.

Molly opened his mouth, looking surprised but gratified, but found it occupied with kissing Caleb a moment later. As he pressed his tongue into Molly’s mouth, he began tugging at the strings of his shirt, loosening it to the point it was easy to peel from him.

Caleb studied him, drinking in every flawless inch of him, every deep scar that criss-crossed his body, every point of colour from his tattoos.

Cocking his head to one side, he gently stroked one of Molly’s already hardening nipples and said, “You really weren’t lying about those nipple rings.”

Molly favoured him with a lazy grin, “I told you,” he replied easily, “They catch on shit.”

“Like teeth?” Caleb suggested with a small smile.

“Tee-Oh,” Molly began, before breaking off into a faint moan as Caleb sucked a nipple between his teeth, biting down gently to illustrate his point.

Molly moaned softly and reached up, pressing his fingers into Caleb’s hair, his claws scraping against his scalp. Caleb let Molly guide him, nudging him across his chest to suck on his other nipple, which caused him to moan softly, his back arching, his tail curling around Caleb’s wrist.

“Caleb,” Molly whispered, a distinct purr in his voice. “Caleb.”

“Yes, Mollymauk?” he said quietly, projecting a composure he didn’t feel into his voice, stroking the tips of his fingers up and down Molly’s chest.

“Please,” he rasped. He moaned softly as Caleb stroked his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers. “Please,” he repeated.

Caleb smiled and leaned down, brushing his lips against Molly’s as he said, “Please what, Mollymauk? Be specific.”

“Please make me come in any way you see fit, you filthy Zemnian tease,” Molly snapped, his head tilting back, his hands fisting the bed sheets, claws piercing the thin fabric. “And do it quickly.”

A soft laugh rasped from Caleb at that, and he leaned down and brushed his lips against Molly’s, “You are very demanding, Molly.”

“I’m so easy-going, normally,” Molly explained in a hoarse pant, “That when you have me wet and willing in bed, my patience wears thin quite quickly.”

Caleb cocked his head to the side slightly, gazing down at Molly and repeated softly, and slowly, drawing the words out as though he liked the taste of them, “Wet and willing?”

Molly groaned, wrapping his fingers around Caleb’s wrist, and drew his hand down between his legs until he could fee precisely how wet and willing the tiefling was for him. His eyes slipped shut for a moment. Gods have mercy, it had been a while, but he wanted this.

It had been so long since had wanted, since he had allowed himself that luxury, and now, here, with Molly, he felt it, felt it in his bones, in what was left of his shredded soul and ravaged heart.

He wanted Mollymauk Tealeaf. He wanted to feel what he did to him. He wanted to fuck him raw. He wanted to make him come. He wanted to make him scream.

“Then perhaps,” Caleb mused quietly, “I should do something about that.”

“Yes,” Molly panted, grinning wickedly at him, “Perhaps you should, Caleb. Especially since you caused it in the first pl-“ Molly’s smart lip was cut-off as Caleb slid his fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers, brushing their tips lightly over his clit, which silenced him almost instantly. Almost like magic.

He smirked, just a little, in spite of himself.

“You can be quiet,” Caleb teased lightly, settling into himself just a little, encouraged by Molly’s reaction, and the old instincts that were guiding the gentle, teasing curve and press of his fingers. “I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes in this moment.”

Molly opened his mouth for another no doubt snappy, sarcastic retort, but Caleb drew gentle circles over his clit and he collapsed down onto the bed, mewling pathetically instead, claws tearing the holes he had already made in the sheets a little wider.

“Do you like this?” Caleb asked, quietly, stroking his fingers gently over his clit in slow, circular motions.

Molly moaned loudly in answer, and Caleb took that for a yes.

“And this?” Caleb asked softly, sliding his fingers a little lower, teasing at his entrance. Molly arched against his hand, grinding his hips against it, trying to push Caleb’s fingers to where they were wanted.

“Yes,” Molly growled, “Yes.”  He wrapped his fingers around Caleb’s wrist, and pulled him closer, kissing him, “But do it properly,” he rasped, “Please.”

He pulled at the laces of his own trousers, loosening them, arching from the bed and trying to push them down. Caleb smiled and pulled them gently down, baring Molly entirely to him.  

“Would you like me to use my mouth?” Caleb asked quietly, tilting his head to one side.

Molly let out a long, drawn out moan.  

“I’m sorry?” Caleb said, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Caleb, you fucking tease,” Molly gasped hopelessly. “Caleb, if you don’t put your mouth on me this instant, I’m going to-“

He broke off again in a low groan as Caleb did as he’d been asked.

“Good,” Molly whispered hoarsely, “That’s good. But I, I need-“ he broke off, panting, eyes closed.

“What do you need, Mollymauk?” Caleb asked, drawing away, the heat of his breath alone still enough to make the tiefling quake. “Tell me,” he murmured, “And I will give it to you.”

“More,” Molly choked. One of his hands reached down blindly and fisted itself in Caleb’s hair. “Fingers,” he rasped, “Something inside me. Caleb. Please.”

Caleb obliged, and there was something near holy in the way Molly’s back arched in response, how his tail thrashed from side to side, how his head tilted back, exposing the slender column of his throat as he moaned.

“Mouth, put your mouth on me,” Molly managed to get out. His fingers flexed in Caleb’s hair as he did as he was asked, and adjusted his position slightly. “Good,” Molly groaned, “Good, that’s it, that’s-“ He broke off with a strangled moan of pleasure.

Heat was pooling in Caleb’s core as he had Mollymauk Tealeaf entirely at his mercy, and writhing in pleasure for him. But he pushed it away, trying to ignore it. Fire was not a temptation he would give in to again. Not even when it felt this good.

Molly’s back arched again as he pushed his hips harder against Caleb’s mouth. “Caleb,” he whined, desperately. “Caleb, Caleb, Caleb-“

Gods, his name sounded like a prayer on Molly’s tongue. He had never thought to hear the tiefling truly pray. Fjord said he conducted rituals to the Moonweaver over his swords, but Caleb had never fully understood the depth of devotion contained within him. But he knew it now. As Molly gasped his name again and again, he knew it.

“Caleb I’m close,” Molly panted, and Caleb was amused to see that, as he lost more and more of his control, his tongue, which he had managed to tame for a few heartbeats, became looser, and looser, and words spilled out like rain from the heavens during a thunderstorm. “Caleb please, don’t stop.”

He couldn’t even if he’d wanted to. The sounds pouring from Molly’s throat were like music, and his body was helpless but to obey its rhythm.

Molly let out a long, keening cry, his back arching from the bed, his hands jerking, his claws tearing strips from the delicate sheets as he came around Caleb’s fingers.

He collapsed panting down onto the bed, and Caleb did not think he’d ever seen anything quite so beautiful.

He gave him a moment to compose himself, then, asked, “Again?” mildly, wiping his mouth.

Molly groaned, but threw him a lazy grin at the same time, “If you can, I certainly won’t say no to you, darling,” he replied with a cocky ease.

Caleb growled softly and pulled Molly’s hips back down against his mouth with a strength that bordered on possessive.

It didn’t take him long to bring Molly to the edge again, to have him begging, writhing, pleading for release. As Molly chanted his name, over and over again, Caleb gave him what he wanted. And didn’t stop.

Not until Molly had come for a third time, until, hoarse and so breathless he could only wheeze, he begged him to stop.

Caleb withdrew at once, hunger tearing through his insides like a wildfire blazing through a forest, and it was becoming harder and harder to ignore.

Watching Molly made it simultaneously easier, and harder. The smooth curves of his lavender body, peppered with the scars of his cruel kind of magic. The way his body stilled, but trembled at a gentle touch from Caleb. The heat that poured from him like an infectious scent, drawing him in, making him harder, making him desperate-

“Caleb.”

Molly’s voice, hoarse but thick with pleasure, snapped him back to reality.

“Yes?” he said, a little dazedly.

Molly pushed himself up with one hand, using the other to shove his sweaty hair back from his face, and slid towards Caleb, pulling him in, kissing him.

“You are,” Molly breathed, capturing his mouth again in another bruising kiss, “Without a doubt,” he kissed him again, deep and tantalising, giving him a taste of that wicked silver tongue, “The most wonderful man,” Caleb felt himself blushing, but had no chance to respond for Molly’s mouth was covering his once more, “I have ever met.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but Molly placed a long, slender finger to his lips, halting him, and added in a soft purr, “And I want you to tell me what you want.”

“I do not expect any kind of reciprocation-“ Caleb said immediately.

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb,” Molly said with a low laugh, “I’m disappointed, you’re usually so precise, so literal.”

He leaned in and kissed his neck, and he should tell him to stop, good Gods, he should beg him to stop, because it feels so good, and if he doesn’t, he’s not sure what he’s going to do. But he didn’t. He lets Molly nip lightly at his neck, tipped his head back to give him better access, had to bite his lip to stop himself whining in protest when Molly pulled away.

“I didn’t ask what you expected, Caleb,” Molly said, placing that burning mouth against his skin once more and making him want to burn for him. “I asked you what you wanted.”

He can’t say it. He can’t. He can’t admit it. He can’t let himself give in to it. He has to be stronger than that.

“What do you want?” Molly purred gently, nibbling on Caleb’s ear.

And fuck him, but he had never been a strong man.

“I want you,” Caleb panted hoarsely, his forehead pressed against Molly’s, his eyes closed, self-disgust in every word. And then his voice broke, and so did the iron in it, and he trembled as he gripped his thighs so tightly his blunt nails were leaving deep marks in the soft pale skin, “But I cannot trust myself with you.”

******************************************************************************

Molly watched him for a long moment, the hunched back, the bowed head, the way he shook, the way his face twisted with the disgust at his own desire, his own need, the way he had given into it, and he felt his heart break.

“Caleb,” Molly breathed softly, keeping his voice as steady as he could. He reached out tentatively, grazed the wizard’s face with the tips of his claws. He did not pull away. He seemed incapable of deliberately putting distance between them. He leaned in just a little, and Molly encouraged it, flattening his hand against his cheek, cradling his face, lifting it gently up.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, very quietly.  

“Yes,” Caleb mumbled back at once, with such speed and certainty that Molly was taken aback for a moment, “Of course I do.”

“Then trust me,” Molly murmured back. He leaned in slowly, pressed his lips against Caleb’s jawline, dragged them back until they were against his ear, so close his breath would be hot on the shell of it, made sure that Caleb would feel his next words, “Trust me when I say that I want this. I want you.”

“Molly-“ Caleb began, voice trembling.

“I’ve wanted you for weeks, Caleb,” Molly continued, his voice a low purr, thrumming with lust, “I’ve wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to touch me. I’ve wanted you to make me scream for you with your fingers, and your tongue, and your magic.” Caleb trembled as Molly leaned down, draping himself over the wizard and gasped, “But more than anything else, Caleb, I’ve wanted you inside me.”

Caleb cursed softly in Zemnian and Molly smiled faintly.

“Do you want that, too?” he asked.

“Yes,” Caleb snapped, “Yes, of course I do, I want it so badly I feel I may claw myself free of my own skin to get at you right now. That is the problem! Why can’t you understand that?”

Molly sat back for a long moment, considering Caleb, his head cocked to one side. Then he leaned in, tilted his chin up, and hovered, waiting, letting Caleb choose. He kissed him, slowly, but in a way that betrayed his underlying hunger. Molly closed his eyes, sinking into it, letting Caleb guide them.

When he opened them again he said quietly, “You can trust me?”

“You know that I can,” Caleb replied, “I would not be here with you if I could not.”

Molly pressed forwards, slowly, but deliberately, straddling Caleb’s lap, grinding against him, hissing softly as he realised how hard he was for him.

“Can you trust me with this?” Molly asked, quietly, looking up and meeting Caleb’s eyes in the semi-darkness of the room.

Caleb looked at him for a long time in silence, then, very slowly, he nodded.

Molly felt a rush of gratitude and emotion at the trust he was being given, and he leaned in, sliding a hand behind Caleb’s head, gently stroking his neck as he kissed him, deeply, and intensely, but with less of the lust, trying to push his feelings into it.

Caleb seemed to understand, and responded in kind, sinking into the kiss, allowing Molly to pull him closer.

They broke apart panting, and Molly smiled playfully, tugging at the opening of Caleb’s coat, “I’m afraid this might have to go if we’re to proceed, love,” he said.

Caleb hesitated for a fraction of a second, then nodded, allowing Molly to slip it free. He set it down very carefully, and made sure it was still within easy reach of the bed, and of the wizard. He knew perfectly well that Caleb’s attachment to it was partially sentimental, but mostly practical. All of his spell components were located in the different pockets, without it, he could not make most of his magic work. Molly understood what he was giving up.

He kissed him gently, dragged his lips down to his neck and sucked until Caleb tilted his head back, let his eyes flutter closed. His hands rested on his thighs, his fingers flexing unconsciously as he swallowed at the pleasure, though he remained silent, which Molly could have guessed.

“Shirt next,” he breathed, fingers curling beneath the hem, stroking gently at Caleb’s skin, feeling him arch into him, nodding urgently.

Molly pulled it up over his head, then sat back to admire him. Caleb, however, had other ideas. He flushed and tried to cover himself instinctively with his arms. Molly reached out and caught his wrists, “Please,” he said quietly, “Don’t.”

Still blushing, Caleb reluctantly let his arms drop. He was not toned, but soft in certain places, and too sharp in others. His skin was pale, and splattered with freckles, like the night sky was with stars.

Molly smiled softly, but Caleb said abruptly, “If you are going to try and tell me that I look perfect, please don’t waste your breath.”

Molly snorted. “No-one looks perfect, Caleb,” he said, dismissively. “If I were going to compliment you, I would only say something that was true.” He leaned in and kissed him gently, “Like the fact that I think you’re beautiful.” Caleb flushed so darkly, Molly almost feared for his health. But then he smiled and nuzzled at his neck and whispered, “Beautiful, and not nearly naked enough for my liking.”

“Then perhaps,” Caleb murmured, lifting his hips, “You should do something about that.”

Molly smirked and did just that, gently sliding Caleb’s trousers down and pulling them free, then sitting back to admire him.

After several long moments of this, heat pulsing in his core, the tip of his tongue trailing across his bottom lip, Caleb interrupted him with a dry cough, and Molly looked up at his face, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Are you getting impatient, love?” he teased, arching an eyebrow.

Caleb groaned and had the audacity to roll his eyes at him, so Molly licked a long, slow stripe along his length in retaliation, which caused his eyes to flutter closed instead as his whole body shuddered with pleasure.

He cursed softly in Zemnian and whispered, almost more to himself than to Molly, “It has been too long, too long since I have felt that.”

Something tightened in Molly’s chest and he crawled back up the bed, kissing Caleb’s lips tenderly. He no longer wanted to tease, no longer wanted to play with the man before him. He wanted to worship him.

He wanted to make up for the touches Caleb had not had in too long, wanted to devote himself to rekindling that fire, that intimacy inside him that he needed, that he longed for, that he deserved. He wanted them pressed skin to skin, so close that it was impossible to say who began and ended where. He wanted Caleb to cling to him, to pull him closer, to close his eyes and press Molly against him until he forgot that he had ever been alone.

He kissed his way slowly down Caleb’s body, making sure to suck and bite at both nipples until Caleb was panting and breathless. He moved slowly down his body, pressing his lips to every freckle he found on the way, and there were quite a few. Down, and down, and down. Caleb’s breathing was shallow and laboured now, his head tipped back, his body quivering, anticipating what was about to come.

Molly nuzzled gently at the thin strip of fine red hair that dusted Caleb’s navel, then paused and looked up at him.

“You trust me?” he asked, and this time he flashed his fangs at Caleb, making him aware this was a very specific question, with a very specific end result.

Caleb swallowed tightly at the sight of him, but nodded with an urgency Molly would never have expected before he’d gotten the wizard into bed, and all hot and bothered. He had discovered over the years that he had that effect on people, the ability to strip them back, discover what hidden surprises lurked beneath their surface personalities.

Molly took Caleb gently into his mouth and began to work steadily up and down, teasing him with his tongue, making sure he was quite ready. In truth, he hadn’t needed much preparation. Getting Molly off multiple times had apparently been quite good for him, but he hadn’t been able to resist having a taste of him.

He could feel heat pooling in his core, could feel the slickness between his thighs, and the ache to have Caleb inside him. His tail was thrashing behind him, and he had given up trying to make it behave. He had more important things to concentrate on. Like the way Caleb’s hands had drifted into his hair, carefully avoiding his horns.

He paused for a moment and he felt Caleb give a small huff of indignation at the loss of contact. But Molly grinned and tapped one of his horns saying, “You can touch them, you know. If you want to.” Caleb blinked down at him through a haze of pleasure, as though he was very far away, “I’ve been told they’re quite good for steering,” he added, helpfully.

Caleb choked.

Molly smirked and sunk back down onto Caleb, feeling the tension in his body release as he did so.

“Molly,” Caleb mumbled softly, one hand on one of Molly’s horns, the other in his own hair. His body was arching, his hips starting to buck instinctively into Molly’s mouth. “Molly, Molly, Molly,” he sang, back arching even more with every pump of Molly’s lips around him.

“Stop,” Caleb panted a moment later, the words shuddering out of him, “Stop, a moment, please.”

Molly did as he was told at once, sitting up and blinking at Caleb with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked quickly.

“Yes, I am fine, but, I, ah-“ He broke off, flustered. “That was good, Mollymauk, very good,” Molly couldn’t help preening just a little at those words, “But I-“ He blushed darkly and looked away. Even now, when Molly had had his mouth wrapped around his cock seconds later, he seemed embarrassed about what he wanted.

He stroked his hands gently up and down Caleb’s thighs and said softly, “What is it, Caleb?”

Caleb was silent for a long moment, before he finally looked up at him and said, quietly but firmly, “I want to be inside you, Mollymauk. The way you said you wanted me to be.” Molly felt something tighten in him as desire raked at his nerves, demanding that he push Caleb down into the mattress and fuck him until he begged for mercy. But Caleb’s voice distracted him, babbling beneath him, “Of course, if you would rather continue as we are that is no problem, no problem at all I- I would be honoured if you would- Any way you see fit, I am, I am not here to make demands of you or-“

“Caleb,” Molly said, in that soft, singsong way that always got his blood boiling, his head cocked slightly to one side, “I mean this with all the love in the world, I truly do, but please: shut the fuck up.”

Caleb opened his mouth to disobey that request almost at once, and Molly kissed him. He waited until he felt the tension bleed from Caleb’s body into the air around them, thickening it, making it hot, and tense, and hard to breathe. He let the wizard melt into him, let him rise a little from the bed, one hand sliding behind Molly’s head to allow him to deepen the kiss.

They were so lost in each other that it was the most natural thing in the world when Molly’s body began to move closer, as though magnetically drawn to Caleb’s, and he made no effort to fight it.

When they broke apart, Molly was straddling Caleb’s hips, staring down at him, gently brushing the hair from his face so that he could look into those beautiful blue eyes as he did this.

“Are you ready?” he asked, breathlessly.

Caleb stared up at him for a long moment, then reached out and gently linked their hands together before he nodded and rasped, his voice a little hoarse, but steady, and sure, “I am ready. I trust you, Mollymauk.”

Molly nodded and rose up on his knees, taking Caleb in one hand, then sinking down slowly onto him. He moaned at the feeling of finally, finally, having Caleb inside him. Caleb squeezed his hand as his breathing hitched, his back arching, his eyes clamping shut, his mouth open, but no sound came from him.

Molly settled down on top of Caleb, rolling his hips and making the wizard tremble beneath them. He looked down at Caleb, who nodded, and began rocking his hips, easing into a gentle rhythm, though his body screamed for more, faster, harder, now.

But he had his eyes fixed on Caleb, who had his eyes closed again, his lips moving soundlessly, likely forming some kind of Zemnian curse, and even if it would have killed him, he’d have taken this slow and easy for his sake.

That was until the hand that was not clutching his own gripped his hip. Caleb’s blunt nails were digging into his skin and he was panting, “Mollymauk,” he rasped, and Molly felt a tingle of pleasure trickle down his spine at the way Caleb said his name while he was inside him, “Do you think I am made of glass?” he demanded. Molly opened his mouth, startled, but Caleb groaned, lifting his hips slightly, and said, “I am not going to break, damn you.” He tugged on Molly’s hip and growled, “Fuck me, Molly.”

Molly didn’t need telling twice.

Both of them gasped as he increased his pace, rising up, then sinking back down onto Caleb, again, and again, and again.

“Good,” Molly panted, as Caleb arched into him, proving to have the same iron self-restraint in bed that he displayed outside it. “That’s good, that’s it, Caleb.” He arched his back as pleasure began to flare through him. His tail curled itself around Caleb’s thigh, but he didn’t seem to mind. “Good boy,” Molly whined, thrusting a little harder, “Good boy.”

Caleb let out a small sound at that, something closer to a whisper, and a delighted smile spread across Molly’s face.

“Do you like that?” he whispered, leaning down and nuzzling at Caleb’s neck, “Do you like it when I praise you? Do you like it when I tell you how fucking good you feel? Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes,” Caleb rasped, lifting his hips a little more, “Gods, Mollymauk, yes. You know I love that tongue of yours.”

“I do,” Molly smirked, “And I love your tongue, too, darling, it has a lot of talents of its own.” Caleb’s breathing hitched at that and he trembled faintly at the praise. “You’re so good, Caleb,” Molly continued, dropping his voice to a low purr, and enjoying the effect this had, “So good for me, so-“ he broke off as Caleb shifted slightly beneath him, altering their angle, hitting him in just the right spot, and he moaned more loudly, his eyes clamping shut with pleasure, his claws flexing against Caleb’s chest, “That’s it,” he panted, “That’s it, that’s it, that’s perfect.”

Gods, he’d only meant this to be about Caleb, about his pleasure, about him reconnecting with someone else after too long, but the way the pleasure was coiling in his stomach, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on.

Molly whined helplessly, his rhythm faltering for a moment as he gasped out, “Caleb, I want-“ he bowed his head, breaking off and trembling as pleasure pulsed through him, “I want to come.”

“Again?” Caleb panted back, “Greedy, Mollymauk.”

Molly opened his mouth to reply, shocked, but then he saw the way Caleb’s eyes glittered with a playfulness he would never have expected of him. He laughed, the sound bubbling from him in delight before he could help it, and leaned down to kiss him again.

“Yes,” he gasped back, straightening up and increasing his pace, “Again, Caleb.” He smirked down at him, bracing a hand on the wall over Caleb’s head, suspending himself over him, “Unless you don’t think you’re up to that, Mister Caleb.”

In answer, Caleb growled softly, pulled Molly down and kissed him. Then his fingers slid between Molly’s legs, sliding him over his clit in a rhythm that had ruined him earlier, and Molly was whimpering his name helplessly as his thighs began to tremble with the effort of maintaining his pace.

Caleb drew him down further, and Molly was helpless to resist him, then he arched up and nipped gently at his ear before whispering, “Come for me, Mollymauk. I want to feel you come for me again. Now.”

Molly opened his mouth to say something that would have been both startlingly witty, and shockingly hot, but all that he managed was a drawn out moan, that might have been Caleb’s name, if he’d been coherent enough to identify it.

He froze up as his climax pulsed through him, squeezing Caleb’s hand so tightly he was afraid he was crushing it. He pressed the other against the wall, bracing himself as he started to come down, his entire body trembling, his head suddenly swimming.

“Caleb,” he panted, pulsing his hips weakly down, realising as he did so that Caleb had not come with him, “Caleb, I can’t, I-“ he was shaking so badly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold himself up, much less continuing fucking the wizard beneath him.

“Shh,” Caleb murmured quietly, something about Molly’s uncertainty in this moment emboldening him.

He placed his hands gently on Molly’s hips again, and guided him up and off him.

“I don’t want to stop-“ Molly began to protest. If he didn’t feel Caleb come inside him before the night was out, he might have to tie the wizard to the bed to stop him ever leaving it.

“I know,” Caleb said, quietly.

He pushed Molly down gently into the mattress and moved over him with a smooth, fluid confidence that betrayed the man he might once have been, before the fire had burned him down to the bones, and the cruel world had made a new, hollow man upon them.

As he moved to enter Molly once more, though, he hesitated. Molly reached up, cupping Caleb’s face with one hand, the other moving to his waist to steady him. “I trust you, Caleb,” he whispered, arching up and pulling him into a kiss. He slid the hand on his face down until he found Caleb’s hand, and laced their fingers together once more, giving him a reassuring squeeze. “I trust you.”

Caleb thrust forwards and slid into him again in a single, fluid motion, and Molly’s body arched, oversensitive as he was after his climax, and a whimper bubbled from his throat. He felt Caleb freeze up again, and wrapped his legs instinctively around his waist, pulling him in deeper.

“Don’t stop,” Molly panted at him, “By all the gods and their good graces, Caleb, don’t you dare fucking stop.”

Caleb released his breath in a soft laugh, that huffed out against Molly’s face, then kissed him. “I am not going to stop,” he whispered back, dipping down and brushing his lips against Molly’s lips again, “I am going to fuck you until you come again screaming my name.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, the way that he said everything, as though it was a simple statement, something that went beyond a promise, it was merely fact.

Molly moaned, his hips arching up against Caleb, trying to urge him into movement. “Where the fuck have you been hiding?” he panted. Caleb blushed again, looking suddenly awkward and self-conscious, as though afraid he had gone too far, and Molly reached up and kissed him fiercely before assuring him, “I like it.”

Caleb smiled a little at that, then squeezed Molly’s hand, and that was all the warning he got before Caleb began to fuck into him, setting a hard, fast rhythm.

Molly moaned again, praising as much as he could between pants, and whines, as Caleb’s breathing became ragged. His back arched, and he pressed his forehead against Molly’s chest, burying his face against his neck, his body shaking.

“Caleb,” Molly gasped, “Caleb, look at me, stay with me, Caleb.” He raised his head and looked at Molly, who nodded, moaning more urgently at the unexpected eye contact, at the sudden blaze of intimacy that made the pleasure flare more intensely within him.

“Mollymauk,” Caleb whispered, his eyes shut tight as he thrust into him. A pink flush had spread through his chest, and it was flushing into his cheeks, as though he was embarrassed. He pressed his face into the crook of Molly’s neck, as though wishing to smother the words that burst from him, “Molly. Say my name. Please.”

Molly thought he was going to die off, but he bit his lip painfully, clamping down on it, and reached up to bury his fingers in Caleb’s thick, shaggy hair instead. “Caleb,” he moaned, and he heard Caleb whisper a soft curse in his ear. “Caleb,” Molly said again, “Caleb please, please, Caleb.”

With a cry that was quickly muffled against his skin, Caleb thrust once more, deep inside him, and shattered. Molly moaned at the feel of it, his body arching, pressing Caleb more deeply into him, holding him there, keeping him in place, wanting this moment to last as long as the gods would grant him on this earth.

He came back to himself a moment, a minute, an hour, a decade, he wasn’t quite sure, later, and found that Caleb had collapsed on top of him, head pillowed against his chest, still inside him, his eyes closed, looking as though he wished to melt into Molly and never leave.

Molly would have been quite amenable to that, but the impulse to take care of his partner overwhelmed that desire.

“C’mon, love,” he mumbled thickly, pressing a messy kiss to the top of Caleb’s head.

“I am sorry-“ Caleb began, but Molly hushed him with another gentle kiss, then nudged him off.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” he promised, “Don’t go anywhere, now.”

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” Caleb replied, thickly, his mouth pressed against the mattress where Molly had left him.

Chuckling, Molly rose and headed to the bathroom, where he fetched some damp cloths before returning to Caleb and cleaning them off. He then shifted to pull the wizard close, but Caleb slipped out of his grasp instead.

Molly frowned, propping himself up on an elbow, and watched as Caleb summoned a single globe of light into being to enable him to search the floor. He watched the wizard hastily pick up and pull on his trousers, and then his shirt, though he refrained from buttoning it.

He then turned back to the bed. Molly lifted the sheet up and beckoned to him, clearly inviting him back.

Caleb blinked owlishly at him, the moment of confidence he had displayed lost to the moment, and the sex. “Are you sure?” he began, “I do not want to intrude or-“

“Caleb Widogast,” Molly growled threateningly, “If you don’t get back in this bed and cuddle me this instant, I swear to the Moonweaver I will not be responsible for what happens to you next.”

Caleb managed a weak smile at that, and slinked back to the bed, settling himself down, and allowing Molly to wrap himself happily around him, like an enthusiastic lavender octopus.

“I am sorry,” Caleb began, “I am not very good at this, the-“ he broke off, took a deep breath, and tried to explain, “In the moment it is...Easier. Afterwards I-“ He broke off again then said, “With the clothes, for instance, I would just feel...Vulnerable wearing nothing after we have finished. I, I do not want that, but I understand why you might feel a little,” he searched for the right words, “A little put off by that, but-“

“Not at all,” Molly said, quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the back of Caleb’s neck, “With Jester wandering around, that’s quite prudent.”

“You are still naked as the day you were born, Mollymauk,” Caleb observed bluntly, in typical Caleb fashion.

“Well naturally,” Molly smirked, nuzzling at Caleb’s ear and making him squirm. Caleb was delightfully ticklish, he had discovered recently, a fact he made regular use of. “If she comes barging into my room at the crack of dawn she’ll either appreciate the sight of my bare arse, or she’ll think twice about it next time.”

Caleb let out a soft huff of laughter. Then he sobered and said, more seriously, his body tensing in Molly’s arms, “You are sure that you do not mind?”

“Caleb,” Molly said, patiently, “You could have swaddled yourself in every single piece of clothing that we collectively own- stop thinking about how impractical that metaphor is and go with it-“ he added, irritably, knowing exactly what Caleb had started thinking, “And I wouldn’t give a damn.” He kissed the back of his neck again and gave him a soft squeeze, “The only thing that matters to me is that you’re here right now.”

“Ah,” Caleb said, quietly, as though this had not occurred to him.

“And besides, “Molly continued, shifting into a more comfortable position, letting his tail drape lazily over Caleb’s waist, curling around him in a slightly possessive manner as it did so, “I want you to be comfortable and happy, Caleb. I care about you, you know.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, then he murmured softly, “I do know.” He was quiet for another long moment, then he said, even more softly, “Thank you, Mollymauk.”

Molly was about to open his mouth to tell him not to be stupid, but then he closed it. Instead, he simply kissed the back of Caleb’s neck, and pulled him a little closer.

The wizard fell asleep in his arms after another few minutes, the single globe of light he had kept glowing under the bed to give them a faint light to talk and cuddle by winking out as he did so, leaving Molly in the darkness of the night.

He remained awake for some time later, holding Caleb close, savouring the feeling of the way their bodies fit together, listening to the steady, peaceful sound of his breathing.

This was something he could get dangerously used to. This was something he could get dangerously addicted to, having Caleb Widogast in his bed, having Caleb Widogast be his.

This was something that he could, if he was feeling particularly dangerous, call love.

Well, Molly had been living dangerously since had first crawled out of that grave two years ago. This was nothing.

And yet, as he felt himself begin to drift off, Caleb’s warmth such a comfort, such a strange combination of newness and familiarity, with such aching rightness in it, that he wondered how he had ever slept alone, this was everything.

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[winterfollows]

In the Meantime

(CR episode 26 spoilers under the cut. This is a purely self-indulgent bit of drabble which refused to shut up in my head until I let it out into the world; featuring my bard Haleir, the Moonweaver, and a beloved purple carnie.) 

The grass is wet under Haleir's knees when he eases himself to the ground, settling in front of a small stone shrine. This one is smaller than most, tucked away behind a maze of thickets a safe distance from the road--all the better to keep it hidden from Imperial eyes. It’s twilight, but his eyes can still make out the carved crescent moon with its twin arrows perched above the altar, and as the sun continues to sink below the treeline the clearer it becomes.

Wrestling his mind to a place of quiet proves more of a struggle than usual, as it has been for some time now. He’s lost count of the days. His robes are soaked from the knees down, but he remains still, the brilliant motley draped over his shoulders arranged meticulously in his lap where he can nestle it safely away from the evening damp, pale hands balled in embroidered silk.

“Molly, darling...” Finally, his voice breaks the silence. It takes another breath--in, then out, a shuddering sigh which clouds the rapidly-cooling air--before he can continue.

“I don’t know if you can hear me from here, but...if you are in Her protection now...it was a thought. If not, perhaps My Lady will take kindness on me and carry this message to you.” The words pass through his lips more easily the more he says them, husky with murmured reverences...or is it soft conversation? He isn’t sure which.

“The road isn’t as welcoming without you--I know you would scold me for saying so, and I’ve gotten by well enough, I suppose. But you were always better at drawing a crowd.” A huffed laugh. “Not to mention the dances aren’t quite the same with just one. I won’t give it up, though. I refuse to regale you with tales of how I settled down with a plump husband or built a tavern in a quaint, boring village, and so I shant provide us fuel for any.”

One of his hands slowly uncurls itself, absently seeking out the silver bauble tied into the white coil on the back of his head so he can worry at the delicate metal between his fingertips.

“I...have decided to take these, for now.” He shrugs, indicating both the bauble and the many-colored coat, which swims on his smaller frame like a herald’s cloak. “As well as your cards. They’ve already served me well, but I expect you will want them again should you ever come home, so in the meantime I’ll keep them safe for you.” His voice begins to quaver again, hot tears springing fresh to his eyes as he forces a tired smile onto his lips. He’s full aware that it might never happen, this reunion, but he cannot bring himself to speak the thought aloud and give it credence.

“Until then, Mollymauk Tealeaf...until then, I promise to live freely enough for the both of us.”

[dent-de-leon]

There's something I really love about the Moonweaver manifesting before Molly's soul shard as soon as Lucien passes on. Because, the thing is--she tried to reach Lucien. She tried, and he turned away from her and fell into a darker path. But then there's this bright little spark of his soul, the softer side of his heart, someone lost and lonely and looking for guidance--Empty--and the Moonweaver is right there to catch him. Holds him close and offers him a kinder start.

She could've just given up on this soul when Lucien spurned her attempts at comfort. Left this restless spirit, both doomed and fate-touched, to the ravens and Somnovum and whatever else sought to claim him. But she saw something in him then, and so she waits and tries again. And in the end, when Lucien's "glint" and the Eyes of Nine and everything else Lucien so desperately reached for is all gone, it's Molly's heart and the Moonweaver's embrace that remain.

[dent-de-leon]

I simply think Mollymauk "I am your god, long may I reign" Tealeaf would make an excellent patron godling of divination and trickery. Sitting beside the Moonweaver in the stars and just hopping into different people's dreams out of curiosity

[dent-de-leon]

Ok alt classes for Molly

In no particular order:

Bard, Sorcerer, Cleric (but only if there's a moon god), Rogue

Thank you I'm adding them to my list! 👀 You're the second person I think to mention Ranger and I've honestly never thought of it but now I wonder what kind of animal companion Molly would like--

Bardmauk my beloved...he could be so cute...I don't know if bg let's your bard sing but I'd love that for Molly--

I'm thinking maybe Selune for Cleric Molly in bg3, I think it's probably the closest to Moonweaver cleric I'll get. But, I mean,, it would also be very funny to play him as Cleric of Bahamut who's clearly faking it--

[dent-de-leon]

this is exactly how I feel whenever I try to piece together Mollymauk’s backstory

[dent-de-leon]

Some thoughts about Molly choosing the name Kingsley in the context of tiefling virtue names: When he first wakes, Mollymauk only has a scarce few words he clings to. They’re more like titles, really. Names. His list of tarot cards, named after his loved ones for the traits and ideals they each embody--tiefling virtue names. Love, Magician, Tinkerer, Sea, Joy, Rumor. It makes sense if Molly decided to assign himself a title as well. 

Jester: Okay, I’m going to go sit down next to him. “Hi, Molly. Um, I didn’t ask Yasha how long it took you before to get acclimated to your surroundings, but I thought this might help.” And I’m going to pull out the tarot cards. “Because I noticed you said all the names of these when we were up there.” And I’m going to show him The Tinkerer, and I’m going to show him The Magician card, and Love, and Joy. “All of them. That’s us. And this is you, Molly. Anyway, if you want to, you know, just look at them. Maybe you’ll feel better after a little bit.” 

Molly chooses the name Kingsley upon waking with his last memory as a sense of regalness, royalty. Kingliness. 

Kingsley: “Mollymauk, really? Oof.”

Caleb: “Tealeaf. Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

Kingsley: “Ah. Tealeaf’s nice. I don’t know. The very last feeling I had was a...royal kingliness. Kingsley...Kingsley Tealeaf, I like it...King Tealeaf, long may he reign! There we are.”

It doesn’t sound too terribly different from Jester latching onto her tiefling virtue name because she liked the sound of it and thought it represented her more than her given name. Kingliness and Jester are both inspirational traits the two tieflings strive to emulate. Both choose their names seemingly on a whim, and don’t care for their given names. Furthermore, the name Kingsley echoes Jester’s sentiment that she wants to bring joy to others. To cheer them up and make them laugh. 

Molly’s grand declaration of, “I am your god! Long may I reign,” is cried out mockingly. And when Beau reflects on his brief time as royalty, she emphasizes how he brought joy to everyone he met. How he left every place better than he found it. “He told me this story about tricking a town into thinking he was royalty, being a king, to pull off a scam...he told that fucking story, and I realized: even in his scams, when he was doing something shitty, he was still making people feel good or feel special. The town was being visited by--graced by his presence, by his royal highness.” 

Jester: “Well, I thought [Jester] sounded cool. I thought jesters were people that made people laugh...[my mother] did [name me], but she told me I get to choose my own name.”

Caduceus: “I don’t think tieflings--do tieflings get--there’s a thing, for--”

Caleb: “What did your mother call you, before Jester?”

Jester: “Genevieve...I like Jester, okay? Jester. Jeez.” 

Artagan: “It’s a much better name.” 

Beau: “Can I call you Genny?”

Jester: “No, you can call me Jester.” 

What Taliesin says about Jester’s virtue name is something I really love, “They have a word for people who do that already. They’re called jesters...the trickster who shows the truth. I mean, how did you end up with that name in the first place?” A trickster who shows the truth. Jester is the one to cast Greater Restoration on Molly in hopes of restoring his memory. And while that doesn’t quite pan out the way she hopes, there is something else she does that lights a spark of recognition. She’s the one who draws the connection between Kingsley and his cards, who’s able to show him the undeniable truth--that he’s still their Molly.  

Jester: I pull out the cards again. “Look, look, look, look!” 

Kingsley: I look at the cards. “Is...that supposed to be me?”

Laura: “Obviously.” 

Kingsley: “And these are supposed to be you?”

Beau: “You gave them to us.”

Kingsley: “Suppose that’s possible...”

Beau: “Those titles--”

Kingsley: “I get...feelings from you. All of you. But--”

He admits it’s possible he could have drawn those cards, even when he tries so hard to reject the notion that he and Molly could ever be one and the same. More importantly, he eventually relents and acknowledges the fact that he undeniably has feelings for the Nein. His memories might be gone, but it’s his heart all the same. It’s why he knows that Yasha is Love from the moment he first wakes, why he’s still inexplicably drawn to all of his loved ones. 

All of his lingering affection for the Nein, his love for them--it bleeds through the haze of missing memories. When he dreams of a circus and a sad angel and all the Nein’s adventures, he’s wistful, longing. It’s not just that he dreamed, it’s, “I was having the nicest dream.” He wants to hold onto the Nein, to those precious memories, deep down in his subconscious. He looks back on the dream with fondness. It’s a good dream. The nicest dream.

There’s also something interesting about the implications of Molly seeing himself as a King while his close friend is a Jester. The fact that Jester is the one who adds to his tarot deck, a Moonweaver deck where all the cards are double-sided and there’s an emphasis on duplicitous meaning. Two sides of the same coin. More alike than they may seem.

Molly claimed he was a god and king, even though it was all a charade. And yet, he’s immortalized as such long after he’s gone, honored and revered by the people he loved. “Long may he reign.” A Fool just playing at being King. And yet, does it really matter, when he was beloved like one? The Mighty Nein tell Kingsley he’s a circus performer. He says he feels like he was royalty. Claims to be entirely separate from Mollymauk, yet chooses a virtue name that emblemizes Molly perfectly. Once more masquerading as a king. A trick that shows the truth.

We know Molly does have a tarot card with himself drawn on it, because there are two times in the finale when Jester confirms it. And maybe this is just wishful thinking, but...we never saw what Mollymauk’s card was. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s an ornate illustration of Mollymauk in a crown and ostentatious, elaborately embroidered coat--on a tarot card called The King.

[dent-de-leon]

Moonweaver my beloved in Call of the Netherdeep...

“Sehanine might reach out to bards, rogues, druids, clerics, and the mischievous. Her childlike form appears to such individuals in dreams...” Aw...I do hope Molly had some nice dreams about her that kept away any nightmares about the Eyes...