Jun 3, 2019
DAY 1 – JUNE 3RD:
Reunion || Confessions
A nervous and a bit confused Molly meeting a shocked Caleb for a second time
seen from United States
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seen from Germany
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seen from Singapore
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from China
seen from Switzerland
seen from Georgia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Russia
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seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from United States
DAY 1 – JUNE 3RD:
Reunion || Confessions
A nervous and a bit confused Molly meeting a shocked Caleb for a second time
keep smiling, even when i’m gone.
Widomauk Week 2019, DAY 4: Free Day!
@widomauk-week
Widomauk Week 2019
Day 1- Reunion
“Is it really you?”
That was all Caleb could think to say, the words choking out of him, breaking in the air between them. He had to know, before anything else. He’d had so many dreams where this had happened (albeit not in a wooded graveyard in the middle of nowhere), so many desperate wishes given form as torturously sweet dreams that had quickly turned into nightmares as soon as his eyes opened and he remembered everything.
He couldn’t bear it again. He just wasn’t strong enough to hope, to believe he was really here and then have it be a lie, a mistake. Not again. It was agony enough every single morning. He had to be sure before he went even a single step further.
“Is it really you, Mollymauk?”
The tiefling in front of him shifted awkwardly in the doorway of the tiny cottage, suddenly aware of several sets of stunned eyes on him after he’d followed the strange pink firbolg out into the afternoon sunlight and changed everything. He was thinner, somehow younger looking in his blank, wide eyed confusion and underneath the white linen shirt he wore, there was the unmistakable raised, puckered, painful skin of a halfway healed scar lancing across his chest. The coat was gone, the jewels on his horns, the huge, wickedly curved swords and wickedly curved smile. But it was unmistakably him. Mollymauk Tealeaf. The piece of Caleb’s heart that had been torn away.
His mouth had to work a while before any sound came out, it was as if he’d forgotten how. Caleb could remember how it had felt to kiss that mouth, have it open parts of him that he’d thought he’d simply hadn’t been made with. It had been weeks but he still remembered.
“Em…empty?”
The words broke his heart into pieces but the voice kept him tumbling to his knees. It was him. Not a dream, not a hallucination in the midst of a wild fit of grief, not an apparition brought on by a bard in a tavern playing a song Molly had always used to hum on the road.
He didn’t care that the others were watching, he didn’t care that they were still technically a secret, Caleb closed the gap between him and the man he’d loved and lost within a few strides and threw his arms around him.
There was a heartbeat where the tiefling stayed tense and wooden but it was gone quickly and soon he was clinging to Caleb with equal strength, equal relief. His tail moved and wrapped around Caleb’s leg, the way it always used to and his fingers fastened tightly in the tangled thicket of rust red hair, the way they always used to.
And Caleb felt like he could breathe again.
“He just turned up one day covered in soil,” the firbolg was telling the rest of them, sounding far away and distant, “All he can say is that one word but it seemed like he was waiting for something…”
Us,Caleb thought, tears burning behind his eyelids, he was waiting for us.
“Empty…e-empty…” Mollymauk rasped. It really did seem to be all he could say but the cadence was never the same, the words he wanted to say pushing through slightly like the lines of mountains on a well faded map but enough for Caleb to understand. He’d always been able to understand what Molly hid just below the surface.
I know you…
Caleb drew back and cupped Molly’s face between his hands, managing a smile. He hadn’t smiled in a long time, the muscles pulled in shock at being asked to move that way. Almost like when he’d first met Mollymauk.
“I’m Caleb, Molly,” he murmured, keeping his voice low simply because it seemed only appropriate in the muffled quiet of the grove with its hanging fronds of lichen and whispering stream, not because he was trying to hide his words from the rest of the still stunned Nein. They had gone far past that.
“You and I…I know how strange this sounds but we were…we are…I love you. I never got the chance to say it before but it’s true, I promise it’s true, I love you. I was so broken when I met you, Molly, but you helped me heal and you showed me what loving someone could be like. You made me feel things no one ever had before, you held me when I cried, you…you made me feel like I was worth something.”
Molly blinked slowly, absorbing all of that, “Empty…”
The same cadence again. I know you…
Caleb’s face split into a wider grin, “That’s right. You know me and I know you. I don’t know who decided I deserved to have you back in my life, Molly, but thank the gods for them. I’m not making the same mistake twice. I love you. I love you so much.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across Mollymauk’s face, light as a firefly, until it died away. His voice lowered, his tone became apologetic, fearful, “Empty…”
“It’s okay, Molly,” Caleb soothed, stroking a hand through his hair, “It’s okay. Whatever this is, I’m here for you, we’ll get through it. Gods know you stuck with me through a hell of a lot.”
The concern eased a little, those red eyes filled with relief and the arms around his neck grew more secure. Caleb brought his forehead to rest on Mollymauk’s, though he didn’t let his eyes close. He didn’t want to miss a second of this.
What better place for their lives to start again, for their love to bud and grow again, than the Blooming Grove where tea plants grew through the eyes of skulls and death was never the end?
Healing/Ashes
(I swear I’m going to get these done! Here’s day 7 of @widomauk-week , I’ll have day 8 done shortly! Little more angsty today... warning for mild description of injuries and major character injury!)
“You should have Jester heal you.”
Caleb slowly lowers himself next to Molly, wincing at the protest from his bruised ribs and the deep cut on his arm.
“I’m fine.”
Molly frowns in concern but doesn’t bother to argue with Caleb when he knows he’s not going to budge on the matter.
He wishes, not for the first time, he had the power to heal, instead of just to hurt. That way, Molly could heal him whenever he pleased and Caleb would have no choice but to accept it.
Their wizard looks particularly grim after today’s battle, with blood crusting on his head, singed eyebrows, ash dusting the top of his hair, and bloody bandages peeking out of his sleeve. As Molly watches, blood slowly seeps into the bandage on Caleb’s upper arm, spreading and consuming more of the white material.
“Caleb-“
“It’s fine, Mollymauk. She doesn’t need to waste any more spells on me.”
Something is wrong. Molly can feel it, but he doesn’t know what he can do about it.
He supposes he could tell on Caleb, sic Jester on him so he’s forced to submit to a healing spell. Or maybe he has an extra healing potion he could put in some tea; Nott could certainly pull off the sleight of hand required to dose Caleb.
Molly stands, making up his mind to get someone to help heal his stubborn man, but Caleb grabs his hand, tugging him back towards the ground.
“Don’t go.”
Caleb’s hand is sweaty and he’s staring at the ground, hair falling around his face like a curtain. Molly manages a reassuring smile, a dazzling lie to keep Caleb calm.
“It’s ok, I’m just going to get some tea for you.”
“Not yet.” Caleb takes a ragged breath, tilting his head up towards the sky to watch the storm clouds converge over them.
A strong breeze passes through them and Caleb closes his eyes, letting the atmosphere of the storm soak into his skin.
“Can I ask you a weird question?”
“Sure,” Molly shifts nervously, wanting to help Caleb but not sure whether it’ll be best address his physical or mental concerns first, “I’m an expert on weird.”
“What do you want to happen to you after you die?”
Molly blinks once but doesn’t try to analyze the question, he’s going to deliver on Caleb’s expectation of an answer without judgement. Even if Molly secretly thinks it is a really weird question.
“Mm, I guess the Moonweaver would collect me. I’d want to be a part of whatever mischief she gets up to.”
“No, I mean,” Caleb breathes in again and this time Molly can tell it’s definitely wrong, definitely strained, “Would you want to be buried?”
Molly squints at Caleb, trying to examine his face and determine whether he’s more pale than usual. His eyes are still closed, Molly wishes he would open them.
“I suppose. What else is there?”
A grimace contorts Caleb’s face, taking over for a few long seconds before he’s able to pull back on his neutral mask.
“The pyre. From ashes, to ashes.”
Molly looks around anxiously, wondering if anybody is nearby to call for help if Caleb needs it. He’s talking so weird, maybe the wound is worse than they thought and the blood loss— what if he needs healing now?
No, Molly can’t just leave. Clearly Caleb has something on his mind, it’d be wrong to just ignore that. He’ll get Jester as soon as Caleb is ready. He clears his throat, determined to give Caleb an answer and figure out what his point is so they can move on to more pressing issues- like the blood that’s still traveling down the bandage.
“I don’t think I could do the whole cremation thing- too permanent. What if I come back again? I’d like to leave my body to be recycled by the next guy.”
Caleb laughs, or tries to, but the sound gets stuck in his throat, launching him into a coughing fit. Molly puts a hand on his back as Caleb starts hacking into his hands, watching in horror as blood begins to splatter against his hand wrappings. Caleb gasps, pulling in air for the first time in nearly a minute.
“I don’t think you’d die forever if you burned, Molly,” Caleb smiles, eyes still closed, why won’t he open them-
“I think you’d rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.”
Caleb opens his eyes, staring up at Mollymauk. They’re totally glazed over, a glassy white cloud covering the bright blue completely. Behind the fog, there’s a bright light, a feverish fire burning through Caleb’s mind.
He’s out before he lands in Molly’s arms, before he hears him screaming for Jester, Nott, Fjord, anyone—
...
He has a dream he’s had before, of a fireball and his friends and seven piles of ashes.
Usually, the dream ends after the explosion, after the screams of his subconscious follow him into the waking world.
This time, the dream lingers for a few more silent, dark moments. Caleb just wails, face buried in his hands, ashes in his hair, under his nails, clogged in his tear ducts.
A fire bursts to life amongst the ashes, embers warming without any input from Caleb. The room is suddenly very, very hot, the tears running down Caleb’s face start to boil and it makes him stop crying long enough to shout in surprise and pain.
The flames rise, surrounding him. They don’t spread but move, as if they had bodies to carry them. The pillar of fire in front of Caleb reaches out with a tongue of flames and brushes his face, harmless warmth spreading from cheek to chin.
The living, moving wall of fire parts to reveal a silhouette rising from the ashes, too obscured by the combination of glaring light and all consuming shadow for Caleb to make out.
The flames flicker once, then die, blown out by an unseen force. It’s done with ease and precision, like blowing out birthday candles rather than a room full of wildfire.
The only light that remains are the embers, gently floating through the air like fireflies and collecting on the ground in a path that winds from Caleb to the ashes.
He stands on shaking legs and follows it, not because he wants to but because his feet seem to have developed a mind of their own, siphoning dying coherency from his brain.
The ashes have been replaced by a bed of embers, some hot and yellow, others cooling red, and the rest solid black. The silhouette- now a distinct lavender tiefling- is there, sitting cross-legged and peaceful on the embers. His eyes are closed.
The purple tiefling- Molly?- doesn’t open his eyes but his head tilts up, sensing Caleb’s presence.
“Caleb!”
Eyes still closed, he smiles up at Caleb, the same wide grin that Molly gives him any opportunity he gets: in morning, before bed, after battles, after shopping, when they’re eating, when they’re drinking. It makes Caleb smile too and he reaches out to cup Molly’s cheek.
“-up! Caleb!”
Molly’s eyelids lift but there are no eyes there, just fire and embers spilling out and down his face. He’s crying fire but the smile stays, plastic and perfect, unaffected by Caleb’s horror.
The red fire reaches Caleb’s hand where he’s touching Molly’s face and catches on the bandages there, lighting up and spreading faster than should be possible. He tries to pat out the fire consuming his right arm, tries to scream or do something—
Caleb doesn’t have a chance because he’s already ash, swept away with the breeze.
...
Caleb wakes to something freezing cold on his forehead and an unidentifiable, but definitively unpleasant sensation in his right arm.
He tries to sit up, bat away whatever is touching his arm, but something holds him down, putting gentle weight on his weak shoulders.
“Shh, shh. I’m almost done.”
Like lifting heavy weights, Caleb manages to open his eyes. He’s in a dark room, lit only by dim candles. The window next to his bed is totally dark, revealing a starless night sky.
Molly is leaning over him, holding his arm and screwing up his face in concentration. He mutters something in a language Caleb doesn’t know and waves his hands in an unfamiliar arcane gesture.
The odd sensation starts again, like... bleeding but worse and not dulled by adrenaline. He watches as a green-tinted, translucent liquid leaks from the cut on his arm and floats up towards Molly’s fingers, before getting caught in the vial he holds. Caleb turns his head away, not wanting to further upset his stomach.
A few minutes later, Molly sighs and sets the vial on a side table, alerting Caleb with a soft clinking sound.
“Caleb?”
He turns his head back to Molly, peering up into his eyes. Molly looks so tired, more tired than Caleb has ever seen him. Fatigue weighs down the edges of his eyes and wears a crease in between his eyebrows.
“You know I love you, right?”
Caleb hesitates but nods slowly. He can’t bring himself to protest, uselessly, Molly’s steadfast affection, especially not when he can see tears welling in Molly’s eyes.
“And that’s never going to change, but,” Molly takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his face, “if you ever do something this stupid again—I don’t know what I’ll do but it will not be pleasant, understand?”
Caleb fumbles for Molly’s hand with his good arm, squeezing weakly when he finds it. Molly squeezes back, with much more force than necessary, though Caleb supposes he deserves that after the day they’ve had.
There’s a million thoughts racing through Caleb’s head, guilt ridden and self-deprecating- I don’t deserve this, I’ve caused so much trouble, I’ve hurt Molly- but he silences all of them at the look on Molly’s face, a powerful mixture of worry and relief.
He doesn’t say anything he’s thinking, just what he’s feeling, “Thank you for saving me, Mr. Mollymauk.”
Molly smiles, letting the tears in his eyes fall. He leans forward and presses his forehead against Caleb’s; the warmth of his skin sinks into Caleb’s even through the cold compress he’s placed there.
“Of course, Mr. Caleb. What would we do without our all-powerful wizard?” Molly smiles wider, fangs poking out to become part of the shining performance piece of an expression.
Molly turns his head, pressing a kiss to Caleb’s forehead. He adds, much softer, “What would I do without the love of my life?”
Caleb’s going to say something to that, maybe apologize, maybe contradict, but Molly beats him to it, sitting back and rubbing his hand over Caleb’s arm.
“I’ll always be here to save you, Caleb, but I don’t want to, if I can avoid it.”
Caleb swallows, intimidated by Molly’s expectant stare. The vibrant red energy of Molly’s eyes fills his mind and Caleb finds himself giving into the impulse to say what he feels, to say something stupid, something impulsive.
Something Molly wants to hear, something Caleb wants to say.
“I promise you won’t have to. Not like this. Not again.”
Molly makes a happy little hum, satisfied with the flimsy, tired promise. He may be happy with just those words but Caleb is determined to make it more than that, make sure he never makes Molly so tired ever again.
But there’ll be time for making good on promises later, when there’s more light outside and less ache in his bones.
The candle is blown out and Molly tucks himself into bed next to Caleb, careful not to disturb any injuries.
They lay like that for a while, peaceful and content to just be in each other’s company. Caleb is reluctant to fall asleep again, scared of what he’ll find in his dreams and nagged by lingering curiosity about the missing hours of his day. He doesn’t want to wake Molly if he’s already asleep but he can’t help it, he has to know.
“How did you save me?”
Molly, apparently not asleep, laughs against Caleb’s chest.
“I used my brilliant arcane abilities to extract the poison from your blood,” his smile dies a little, hugging Caleb as tight as he dares, “Jester was out of restoration spells, so I had to make due.”
His grip is still weak from the fever and blood loss, but Caleb puts all the strength he has left into hugging Molly.
“That’s pretty clever, Molly.”
Molly snuggles a little closer, holding onto Caleb like he’s scared he’ll slip away.
“I learned from the best.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
for day 1 of Widomauk Week 2019, “reunions”.
Xhorhas is—new, to say the least. Finagling a way into it in the middle of a war takes the better part of a month, and enough gold that he ends up resorting to roughing it for a while on his way in, hanging out with a few mercenaries willing to take on a slightly panicky tiefling for a few days. Probably helps that he’s become exceedingly good at killing things, lately.
It’s worth it. It’s all worth it when he gets into Ghor Dranas, or Rosohna, or whatever the fuck they’re calling it now. It’s all worth it, because he asks for the Mighty Nein and someone points out a fucking huge house with a goddamn tree growing on top of a tower. It’s all worth it for the steps he takes towards the door, the sight of a house that he could maybe call home, the certain knowledge that his friends are here and he can rest at last, at last.
He stops at the door, tail lashing back and forth, twinging just the slightest bit.
Could he stay here? Would they still take him back? It’s not like Molly’s death really stopped them for very long, after all, so maybe he’s fooling himself. Maybe they’ll take one look at him, cracked and damaged and even more claustrophobic than before, and gently direct him somewhere else. Maybe they’ll treat him like he’s Kiri and take him somewhere safe.
Maybe they don’t want him anymore.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Pairing: Widomauk, platonic M9
Rating: T
Warnings: Fluff
Preview:
Day 2: Modern AU/Urban Fantasy
The music’s turned down and the door knob turns and the lavender tiefling that he saw through Frumpkin’s eyes emerges. Crimson eyes blink curiously at him. “Hello, can I help you with something?”
Caleb swallows and stiltedly points at his cat, who’s contently being cradled in this stranger’s arms. “Ja, sorry for bothering you, but I was looking for my cat. That one. In your arms, more specifically.”
Please do not use Google Translate on your ancient summoning book
Sometimes Caleb is a splendid wizard, rife with potential and raw power, the best version of the bright young man from a little town that got selected to attent the best magic academy in the country.
Some other times he grabs a book that says things like "blood" and "bond" and "make minutes feel like hours of extasy" and actually thinks he's casting a time spell.
Demon AU, no context needed
Just a little drabble for Widomaukweek’s day 4, free day!
This is working wonders for me to practice writing shorter things.
[Image description: a colored pencil drawing of Caleb and and Molly from Critical Role. Caleb is a ginger human man with almost shoulder length hair and a short beard. He is wearing sunglasses, jean shorts, and a black tank top with "Love is Love" written on it in rainbow letters. Molly is a lavender tiefling with purple hair the same length as Caleb's and dark purple horns. He is wearing sunglasses, a pale pink crop top with "Fuck Gender" written on it in the colors of the genderfluid pride flag, and pink booty shorts. There is a peacock tattoo going up the side of his neck and curving just under his right eye, and a sun tattoo on his left shoulder. They are standing with their arms around each other, and Molly's tail is wrapped around Caleb's right leg. The background is rainbow with the stripes going diagonal across the page. End image description.]
Day 2 of Widomauk Week means I get to draw the boys in modern outfit! This was going to be a pride parade scene but ya boy can't draw background people to save his life.