#loving tealeaf is just so much pain

[dent-de-leon]

crit role I will give you my whole heart if I can x1 scene of Kingsley in the present so I know he is at least alive and okay—

[critter-genfic-events]

This week, we have ten fics that focus on dreams. Pleasant dreams, prophetic dreams, and quite a few nightmares - not to mention the Dream Spell - are mentioned here! Check them out under the cut!

Burden of Guilt by popsicletheduck (2714,Teen) Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Pairings:

Percy's made some mistakes in his life, alright? He knows this. It'd be nice if his subconscious stopped bringing it up.

Reccer says: Percy makes a great whump subject

Dreaming Down Deep by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink) (4478,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

What if Caduceus met Fjord's patron and was just both mildly clueless and very polite about the whole thing?

Reccer says: Galaxy brain concept and wonderful delivery - Ukotoa's tricks just do not work on Caduceus, but Fjord's angst in the second chapter is delicious

and we still had hours by poppyseedheart (13995,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

In his own dreams, Caleb's back is usually ramrod straight the way it was in his youth. In his waking hours, his beggar’s hunch is practiced, intentional. Whatever he’s doing now, all neutral spine and open hands, is something different altogether.

Reccer says: Well characterized all around and amazing

she dreams of chromatic dragons by mavnificent (791,General) Warnings: Pairings:

Cali dreams of chromatic dragons and they aren’t always vicious or greedy the way they’re supposed to be. That’s how she knows she's dreaming.

Reccer says: There really should be more Calianna fics in the world, but this is a great one that takes into her Cult Deprogramming

A Nice Dream for Yasha by FeralScribe (4262,General) Warnings: Major Canonical Character Death Pairings: Mollymauk Tealeaf & Yasha

A dear friend makes sure that Yasha's dreams take her somewhere pleasant for once. The problem arises when Yasha doesn't want to leave.

Reccer says: I love Yasha and Molly's friendship and this is so painful

may your princes understand you (may your wolves get out alive) by grayintogreen (6427,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

An archfey traps Jester in a dream world. Artagan and an unlikely ally rescue her.

Reccer says: I liked it

However Long Forever's Gonna Last by elissastillstands (15557,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Opal begins having dreams about Zerxus as she and the Crownkeepers continue their journey.

Reccer says: A beautiful story that fits perfectly into canon as a canon divergent fic. It makes you wish and hope for a better ending for Opal and Zerxus.

a god awful shitty feeling of dread in my heart by pigflight (2106,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Delilah Briarwood & Imogen Temult

In which holding hands with Laudna brings someone into Imogen's dream, even if it isn't the someone she was hoping for.

Reccer says: Imogen and Delilah and Imogen is able to go off? Yes please. A wonderfully threatening Delilah, too

What Grows From The Heart Is All The Stronger by Angel Ascending (angel_in_ink) (1340,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Fearne Calloway & Orym

All seeds need good soil in which to grow.

Reccer says: I liked it

The Heart External by BeatriceEagle (103670,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Beau & Caleb, Beau and Bren, Caleb and Bren, Beau and OMC, Caleb and OMC; background Beau/Yasha and Caleb/Essek

Six months ago, Beau adopted a teenager who loves the Cobalt Soul, but can't stand her. Ten minutes ago, Caleb accidentally summoned his own teenage self into his living room.

Reccer says: There's so much insight into and compassion towards all of the characters here. The ultimate resolutions for each of them feel hard-won and satisfying.

his is one of our weekly communally-generated gen rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. Please note that the summary and content notes are provided by the reccer, and may be different than what the author has provided. Please assume good intentions all around. <3

And hey, anyone includes you!

We'll be back on the first with fics focusing on Orym, followed by horror fics, and then in October with fics focusing on Taryon Darrington.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit! If you're looking for some more, check out some fics written in the critter genfic bingo tag, or the older rec lists! Or you can request your own card and join in on the fun!

[august-anon]

Girl's Night

For Tickletober Day 8: Truth

-----

Fandom: Critical Role

Ship(s): None!

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Beau, Ler!Molly and Ler!Jester

Word Count: 769 words

Summary: What would Truth or Dare be without a little Zone of Truth? A lot more chaotic, as Beau finds out -- but it is her fault for letting the spell run out.

[ao3 link]

----------

“Don’t you fucking dare!”

Molly grunted with effort as he tried to climb atop Beau’s waist. “If you hadn’t danced around the question for so long that the spell wore off, we wouldn’t need to test it, would we?”

“Yeah, Beau!” Jester whined, trying to get a grasp on Beau’s wildly swinging arms. “And that was totally my last spell slot today!”

Beau spat out a litany of curses as Jester caught a wrist – clearly her inebriation was catching up with her. “Why do we even need the stupid fucking Zone of Truth in the first place?”

“Because of liars like you and me, dear.”

“Yeah, Beau! You can’t just lie in Truth or Dare – that’s like, the whole point!”

“You’re ruining the sanctity of Girl’s Night!” Nott cried out, and Beau couldn’t even see Nott anymore from her vantage point of the ground, but Nott had quickly moved into third place on her List. Jester and Molly were currently tied for first and second.

Beau let out a frustrated roar as Molly and Jester finally trapped her. With all the booze in her system, she wasn’t coordinated to buck Molly off, and even sober she wouldn’t have been able to beat Jester’s strength. She shot a desperate look over toward her last hope.

“Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, help me?”

Yasha stared at the three of them impassively, squinting her eyes as though she was thinking very hard about the question. “No,” she said flatly, slowly bringing her ale up to her lips.

Beau gaped at her.

Molly clicked his tongue. “Looks like you’re all ours.”

“You’re fucking dead, Tealeaf.”

“If you had just told us the truth in the first place, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Who the fuck answers that question?”

Jester blinked down at her. “Uh, me. I’m, like, super duper ticklish. It’s so much fun! Right, Molly?”

Molly nodded, cracking his knuckles. “Oh, of course. I am too, loads of fun – both sides of it, really.”

Beau sputtered for a moment. “Yeah, well, you two don’t count!”

“I’m ticklish, too,” Yasha said. “I don’t love it like they do, but I don’t mind it.”

Beau gaped at her again. Yasha shrugged.

“See?” Molly said. “Not so hard.”

Jester gasped. “Maybe we just have to tickle her until she says that she is!”

“No!”

“Oh, I love the way you think, Jester.”

Before Beau could curse the two of them out again, tiefling claws were crawling up her sides and down her arms. She held off as long as she could, but soon enough Jester’s claws were in her armpits and Molly’s fingers were pinching at her waistline and she broke. She spat out curses and threats between the laughter that bubbled out, but judging by her friends fond smiles, she wasn’t making much progress.

And the worst part was – she didn’t hate it. She’d never admit it even under pain of death, but Beau didn’t necessarily hate her friends tickling her. Maybe it was the booze, or maybe it was the silly atmosphere they’d created to give Jester her first real “Girl’s Night,” but, well, it was actually kind of… fun. Dammit, now she had a new question to avoid under Zone of Truth at all costs – and knowing Jester, it would be asked. But maybe, if she waffled around and refused to answer again, she would get this again without having to ask for it.

But tough, stubborn reputation or not, Beau was fucking plastered and she didn’t have the stamina to handle an extended tiefling tickle attack. She gave them a few minutes to have their fun – and a mirth-filled few minutes it was, seeing as they’d found tickle spots Beau didn’t even know she had – but before long, she was giving into their demands.

“Fucking – okay! I’m fucking ticklish, alright? Cut it out!”

Jester pulled back immediately, her smile wide and beaming and bright enough that Beau had to look away. Molly took his damn sweet time, skittering his claws back towards his own body, poking a few sweet spots on his way for good measure. Beau laid there boneless as Jester released her wrists and Molly slowly crawled off her hips. 

“You know,” Yasha said, slicing through the silence as she took another slow sip of ale, “you should try his ribs.”

Beau’s eyes shot to Molly’s. He swallowed, bringing his hands up in a placating motion.

“Now, now – let’s not be hasty.”

Beau lunged, a dangerous smile on her face. “Your turn.”

Needless to say, they had several noise complaints by the end of the night.

[railroad-migraine]

I got a migraine, thought about Kingsley for a second, and it went away. I just felt like this was important to share. He's A+ pain medication now and I think he should give me kisses until I'm totally sure the pain's gone-

As someone with chronic migraines, I wish a Kingsley thought would help me out 😭 Hope you feel better now sweetheart x

Whoops I slipped and this happened 👀 Fluffy cuteness

~ Poet

Pain Relief

-> Kingsley Tealeaf x GN!Reader

"And you're sure there's nothing - anything at all - that I can get you?"

You peep out from under the soft quilts of the bed, the closed drapes by the window casting the room in a warm sepia tone that's gentle on your sore eyes. The captain of the ship stands beside you with his hands on his hips, peering down his nose with a concerned crimson gaze that sends a flutter of affection through you.

"More water? A sleep mask, perhaps?" Kingsley suggests, running a hand through his untamed curls. "I can fetch the healer for you, it's no problem at all, love. You have to listen to what your body needs."

You purse your lips in a playful pout. The aching throb in your temple has lessened considerably since the ship had docked and your lover came to check on you in your shared quarters. It is still present, a little constant pinch, but far kinder than the wave of sudden pain you experienced a few hours ago. Taking his hand in yours, you give it a comforting squeeze. "You worry too much about me."

"I worry because I care about you," he says, easy as breathing. He hunkers down at your bedside, smooths the blanket over your shoulders and gives you a half pleading half exasperated look. "Come on. Ask, and your wish is my command."

You know he's got errands to do, deals to make and contacts to cheat on shore. But you also know he won't leave your side until he is completely sure that he's done all he can for you.

He wants to be useful.

So, you make him useful.

"Kiss me."

He tilts his head. "Is that all?"

You nod, leaning your head back further into the expensive pillows and allowing your eyes to slide shut. "Yes. That will indeed be all, captain."

You feel Kingsley's amused smirk against your mouth when he leans down and seals his lips with yours. You hum happily and melt into the touch, the pressure in your head alleviating further as his infernal heat bleeds into your body.

It ends too soon.

He draws back an inch and sighs, pulls his bottom lip with his teeth in a pout. "And you're sure there's nothing else-"

"There's nothing more you can do," you chuckle and press your palms to his chest. You push him with little force until he reluctantly stands. "Thank you for your loyal service. Now go!"

He slips out of the darkened room and out onto the deck before you manage to throw a pillow at his overbearing head, but not before casting a fond smile and wink over his shoulder. You take another sip of water from the glass he'd left behind and curl up into a tight little ball with your back to the window. Sleep comes easily.

You feel good as new when he returns that evening - he makes sure to supply you with even more medicinal kisses to ward off any lingering pain.

You allow him.

[missizzy]

New Fic: However Slight(Critical Role)

The evening started with them both too exhausted for it. Beau's interviews with her three subjects had reached a particularly long, significant, and painful part of their story, one that made the four of them talk much longer and with fewer pauses than the previous days, which had also left Essek to toil entirely on his own, and the garden gave him more trouble than expected too. Caleb hadn't been putting up the tower every night, but on that one they were going to need it.

It wasn't just them in the tower. Caduceus was happily returned to his own bed, and Kingsley Tealeaf chose to sleep in the Clays' home as well, but this version of the tower had rooms available for the rest of the Nein, and a suite for Astrid and Eadwulf, as well as another for Essek himself. And everyone, including all the Clays, came in for dinner (except Ikithon, whom Essek believed had been fed already). Essek and Caleb first found themselves alone when they retreated to the library after eating, Caleb bringing with him some beer Essek initially hoped he wouldn't drink too much of.

That hope lasted about an hour, before Caleb put his book down, and the words started spilling out. Including, early on, a remark that alcohol usually didn't loosen his tongue quite this badly, which made Essek all the more aware how much Caleb was trusting him, more than he ever had in their entire history before this.

Between that, his exhaustion making reading slightly difficult, and Caleb's clear need to talk, Essek let him talk. He learned a good deal that evening, about Caleb, about the Assembly, and about the two people he now gardened with. Including the true nature of Caleb's past relationship with them, which he had already suspected, but now he noted well his own reactions to knowing it for a fact.

And then he began talking about Jester, and about her reaction to his plain room, and his wondering if she would come back and insist on redecorating it. ("If she does it now, she might rope you into her efforts," he warned Essek.) If she did, he said, he'd probably feel the need to create it with the decorations from then on. From there, of course, came the other romantic fact about Caleb Essek had already suspected.

"Please don't tell her," Caleb pleaded to him. "She'd be so unhappy, if she knew I had feelings and she couldn't return them. And she's so happy with Fjord, and what if she felt guilty about that?"

"I won't tell anyone," Essek assured him.

"Oh, I know Yasha suspects," Caleb shrugged, "and I think Beau might, too. Or maybe that's just me suspecting she might be crushing on Jester a bit herself-which I would definitely not recommend mentioning to anyone. At least she seems happy and in love with Yasha anyway."

And wasn't that comforting idea for Essek, more confirmation that it was possible to feel like that for more than one person at once. It wasn't as if he ever would've known from his own experience. But no amount of alcohol would get him to explain all that, not to Caleb.

Instead he just said, "I am sorry you have not found any consolation for this." He had heard, after all, how painful it could be to have unreturned feelings, and was starting to think he might now be learning about it firsthand as well.

"Don't be," said Caleb. "I'm not. At least, not anymore.

I was until recently," he continued. "I felt like an idiot. The worst thing about unrequited love is when you can't do anything with it. I was uselessly in love."

Essek didn't think Caleb had found nothing to do with those feelings, though. After all, was he himself not now driven to be as good a friend to Caleb as he knew how to be? And likewise, he had seen how good a friend Caleb was to Jester, although he was to all the Nein, so perhaps he thought he would've been anyway.

"But," Caleb was continuing, "during the fight...I suppose you can think Caduceus might have made it to her and brought her back even without my bringing her to him. And honestly, I don't know whether or not I still wouldn't have managed all I did for her in that fight even if I hadn't loved her like that. There's no being sure." He looked at the beer for a long moment, then took another mouthful and swallowed before finishing, "But so long as there's any chance, however slight, that my being in love with her is the reason she's alive and well now, I can't regret it. I'll bear all the pain I have to over it."

Essek had, during his childhood, read epic stories of heroes and heroines doing legendary deeds. Very often, the characters around them included someone suffering from unrequited love, who in the end would make a heroic sacrifice to save them, or sometimes even their beloved. Sometimes, of course, the lover would be consecuted, but even then, the narrative had given a general feeling their were giving up the life they had lived, that even when they came back they would leave their past life behind and start over. And very often they weren't. Sometimes they would tragically be days away from getting consecuted.

That hadn't been Caleb's fate, he reminded himself. Jester herself had seen to that. But he thought it all too likely that he'd been ready for it to be, that when he had died, he had done so glad that he'd helped Jester live.

He himself had been ready to die for any of the Nein, or even just for the sake of the world. That by itself hadn't even seemed to mean anything, not when he'd thought himself dead anyway. But from the moment he saw Caleb fall dead during that battle, Essek had known that much as he'd come to care very much for them all, he hadn't quite come to do so equally.

And since then, he had also become aware of something far more incredible. Not only would he die for Caleb, but if things kept going the way they were going, he might just get more determined to instead live for him.

He now knew, beyond any doubt, that Caleb was capable of being in love with more than one person at the same time. He also knew Caleb was attracted to him, and cared for him very deeply. He didn't know how Caleb felt about him, exactly, right in this moment. He suspected Caleb himself didn't know either. He did know Caleb's feelings could last a long time. The way he had talked about Astrid and Eadwulf that night, even as he'd made it clear he didn't actually want them back, had established he nonetheless still loved them too, in a way. He didn't know how Caleb's feelings would evolve with regards to him, either.

Essek also knew that it would be a bad idea for both of them to pursue anything right now, anyway. He knew he certainly couldn't handle being with someone like that, not yet. Even feeling as much as he did for Caleb now was a little overwhelming, to tell the truth of it. He didn't know if or when that might change, especially not when there were things both in their practical situations and their inner selves that would need to change.

But, he found himself thinking, as he sat there by Caleb, so long as there is any chance, however slight, that my being in love with him could one day make him a happy man, I can't regret it either. I, too, will bear all the pain I have to over it.

[defendingtheearth]

so! i’m finally posting one of my video edits! i saw another edit to this song a while back by jesterbeauregard and was reminded of it the other day when i heard the song again and really wanted to have a go at my own version! it’s a more serious take on the current intro - hope you enjoy!!

[falling-rhayne]

Is it too much to hope that when Caleb pushed some of Molly’s hair off his face and hesitated, he wanted to kiss his forehead? But he couldn’t bring himself to do it?

[pushingdaisies1]

HEAR ME OUT!!

This thought has been marinating in my head , mollymauk lovers and mighty nein angst enjoyers come get your juciey juice. I am currently on episode 11 right now of campaign two but with spoilers , I earlier found out about Molly’s passing and got this idea in my head. (Context: Basically , after your death in a separate timeline of the Mighty Neins adventures , making a deal with a deity your able to rewrite one deeply painful moment you’ve experienced. You decided to snap yourself back to the moment one of your closets friend and admirer died , Mollymauk Tealeaf.) *Tried my hardest to match the events in the episode since I’m not there yet butttt.... yeAH* Imagine going with Beau , Caleb , Nott , Mollymauk , and Keg to go rescue the taken members of the Mighty Nein. Your mind starts to space and it hits you that its this moment , as you watch Beau and Molly get ready to charge at Lorenzo , this is the moment you had been waiting for.  Right when Molly starts to get ready to pounce , you push him off and instead its you who charges at Lorenzo with Beauregard. You could feel this sharp piercing pain go right through your chest. Thinking that you would be fine ,you thought that you had some sort of ways to be healed on you , your face shaped into a grin as you laughed in his face.  The blood seeped out of your chest , you felt eyes on you , and you just laughed. Though you started to cough up blood and that splattered in his face. Once you slid off the blade , Molly ran right over to your seeping with blood body. You were losing blood quick , and fast. As he pressed his hands firmly on your wound , you reassured him you were fine. He just thought it was the blood loss making talk like this , you looked pretty worse for wear. But some memories of the day were , some key points to be exact. Why? , well as you went to go close your wound , it clicked for you. You were out of spell slots , oh god.. thats when you really started to panic. Your vision started to blur , the flames of the burning Lorenzo barely noticeable. Clutching onto Mollymauk’s arm , tears started to pour out of your wincing eyes. Everything internally was all scrambled. When you started to go in and out of consciousness , weakly you pulled yourself up and met his lips. The kiss was like a goodbye to him , filled with desperation. He gripped the side of your face with grieving and bargaining , letting the kiss embrace him. Your blood filled his mouth as you pulled back. He didnt want to lose you , he could not lose you! “Its going to be alright... come on,” He begged you to respond as a bitter sweet smile grew on your face. “I love you.. circus man,” you spoke , just enough so Molly could catch that. His face morphed into shock/realization , you finally lost consciousness. Last thing you saw was his distraught face as he pleaded for you to wake up. Right about when you picked up Beau , Nott , Keg , and Caleb running over. Once you reformed back in the dark cage you had been kept in once you passed  before , you realized not everything you could fix. The realization hit you as you realized how much you probably hurt the ones around you , how you probably hurt the ones you loved. Those same tears before started flooding again. Your faint ‘sorries’ echoed through the void. This was your last chance , and now your back at square one.

[slushrottweiler]

CR fans:

Do yall think Kinglsey is covering his tatts and scars, or do you think he's had them magically removed?

Coz both make sense.

It would help distance himself from Molly and Lucien, especially with his memories returning. The tattoos were Molly's way of claiming his body, the eyes (now empty spaces) from Lucien's choices. The scars are marks of their previous lives. And whenever the Nein look at him with those marks, the see a little bit of the other two, no matter how much they love and adore Kingsley.

So it makes sense that he might cover them up. A little easier for the Nein to see him as himself and not his "brothers". And a little easier for himself when he looks in the mirror. Many of those returning memories are not going to be pleasant; and it's going to be hard to reconcile that He didn't do those things, not really. Covering the marks can be part of his healing process. A coping mechanism.

But if he took the marks away -- it's literally a clean slate. Any scars he gets now are his own; his pain, his choices. If he wants to be tattooed again, he can get his own ink that he chose. Those memories are still there, but Kingsley gets to be his own man with a dark family history. It could be a way to deny that past, or a way to free himself from it.

Idk which idea I like more. But Kingsley Tealeaf is just making me feel things and I will fight the world for his happiness. Hail to the Pirate King(sley)

[nightowlwriting]

summary: you've always known there's a soulmate on the other end of your injuries. when you're working the victory pit during the harvest close festival, though, it's the furthest thing from your mind. ironically, it's the closest mollymauk has ever been to you.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: canon level violence, mentions of molly activating his swords, canon level allusions to war and corruption

title credit: the steve miller band

note: takes place during episodes 17/18, requested from the soulmate abc list: damage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all).

masterlist - request - support my work? - ao3

Throughout your childhood, you’ve been called blessed. It started with bruises and scuffs. Little things that are perfectly normal for a child to receive and not remember. The problem with your bruises and scuffs was that they were not your own. When you grew into your celestially gifted powers, it started to make more sense.

Your family had stories of soulmates bestowed upon their clerics, but it wasn’t something that had happened in many generations. Nobody was really concerned until the wounds you received from your soulmate began getting worse - deeper, taking longer to heal, more life-threatening. It worried you, and your family, but it pressed you to become a better cleric. To find your source of power and lean into it. You heal yourself each night before bed, hoping that you’re giving some sort of comfort to the person you’re connected to. Even if you have no energy spells, you pull a pearl you were gifted when you left your hometown and press your lips to it and let it fill you with the love and warmth of life and still heal yourself. It’s your nightly ritual and, since you’ve started doing it, you haven’t missed it once.

Except once, but really that doesn’t matter because of how you miss it. It’s the Harvest’s End festival and the Victory Pit, and you’ve been conscripted to work it. You hate working for the Crown, but it pays well and allows you to help people. Your clerical skills and magic get used every day and you help the people that really need help. Still, the inevitable war looming over the Empire worries you. You’re skilled for your age, more so than the other clerics who perhaps have years over you, and War Clerics don’t have the longest life expectancy. After the last time that your soulmate died, and the grief and pain it inflicted upon you, you don’t want to do that to them. You try not to think about the several times you’ve felt their death and resurrections, though, because it worries you.

Most of all, it tells you very important information about them. They’re some sort of adventurer, best case scenario. The worst case, though, is that they’re a criminal. Regardless, you’ve become fond of them. The cuts don’t really hurt as much anymore, but they still pucker and scar when you heal them at night. There have been a few times when you’ve gotten hurt and you know that they’ve received those wounds, so perhaps they know about you as well. You hope they do because it would be awfully lonely to be the only one out of a pair to be aware that there is, in fact, a pair.

Still, your soulmate is the furthest thing from your mind as you funnel people into the Victory Pit. Clerics double as security, mostly because the Guard want to watch the fights more than they want to keep people safe, and you grit your teeth trying to keep your prepared spells at the back of your mind. You have several healing spells in your mind, but a few offensive ones as well. In Victory Pits of the past, you’ve had to use them. Now, you’re just sore and aggravated with the hickey that appeared on your chest last night - that you did not receive yourself. It doesn’t bother you that whoever you’re linked to is getting lucky, but it would be nice if you didn’t have to look at the proof for the next week or so.

Someone stamps on your toe and you bite back your curse, skittering backward and colliding with someone who is cursing. “I’m sorry,” You apologize on instinct, turning and grabbing the person by the arms. You’re momentarily struck by how beautiful they are, but you’re at work. “Are you okay? I’m a cleric working in the Pit today.” They glance down at you, baubles and trinkets swinging from their gaudy horns, and you realize with a start that they're purple. It’s not that tieflings are rare in Zadash, but purple ones are. The group they’re with also has a blue tiefling, a small green halfling, and a half-orc. Truly a strange band of people.

“No, no,” The person you’d run into says, voice smoother than you’d anticipated, “I’m alright. Are you okay, darling?” They smile down at you, completely red eyes smiling with merriment as they settle their hands on your biceps in a mirror of how you’re holding them.

“Please, I ran into you,” You shake your head, “Besides, I’m working. It’s my job to make sure that you’re okay.” You give them your name, telling them to seek you out if they shall become injured.

“Oh,” They sweep you grandly underneath their arm, squishing you into the side and stepping toward their group for a few steps, “I will get painfully injured today, but I will seek you out specifically, darling. My name is Mollymauk Tealeaf, and I am fighting with the Mighty Nein. You may call me Molly, all my friends do. I am a man of many friends, and you are one of them now. Keep your eyes on me today.” He winks and then sweeps himself away with a flourish, leaving you standing and a little flustered.

After that, the Victory Pit starts faster than you anticipate. You're stationed in the Pit itself, one of the more powerful offensive clerics on the roster today when you start to put the pieces together. You're not sure why you didn't notice at first, but Mollymauk - Molly - has a lot of scars. A lot of familiar scars. You trace a particularly deep scar on your collarbone as you watch the first Pit fight and wonder. What are the odds? Could Mollymauk really be…? A horrible thought hits you, and you can feel yourself pale. He's fighting in the Victory Pit today. He's going to get hurt, which will either confirm or deny whether or not he's your soulmate but if he is… Shit, you're in for a rough day. You know that The Mighty Nein is slated for the first fight against an Otyugh. They're nasty creatures, although not really native to Zadash you've still had to heal up some rather awful sucker wounds in your time.

You're glad to see that Mollymauk holds his own in the fight, and stays far away from the Otyugh. It's hard to keep your eyes off of him with the idea that he might be your soulmate and you get the sense that he's a melee fighter more so than a magical fighter in the beginning, but then he activates his swords, and the pain blossoms in your ribs as he drags his blades along his.

There's no question now. Mollymauk Tealeaf is your soulmate. Watching the way he fights and interacts with the Nein during their fight with the Otyugh everything about the injuries you've received from your connection with him makes so much more sense. You actually find yourself… Weirdly proud of your scars, then. You've heard about the Nein, how they're swords for hire and defeated the Fey Spider in the tunnels, but still. Mollymauk seems like good people. Maybe it's naïve to hope on your part because he's your soulmate, but you'll take it until you're proven different. You've been doing things like that for most of your life, and you'll be damned if you stop now. You know you can hold your own, too, so that helps. The next fighters pass in a haze to you, as you stand ready to save someone from death the Banderhobb fight passes with no need for clerics, and the fights with the Giant Crocodile and Ice Troll are much the same.

When the Mighty Nein is back up, your senses fire to life. The next monsters are Winter Wolves, nasty creatures with powerful ranged attacks. You steady yourself against the half-wall you're stationed behind, readying yourself for whatever pain Mollymauk is about to feel. The beginning of the fight is tense, and your fellow clerics watch you curiously as your hands grip tight and relax intermittently on the wall in front of you. When one wolf whirls and releases a nasty, icy breath you heave a sigh of relief that Mollymauk wasn't hit but then the other does the same thing. You feel it more than see Mollymauk get hit, sharp shards of pain washing over your skin so intensely that your eyes roll back in your head and the only thing that keeps you from collapsing is the fervent grip on the wall. Someone lays their hands on you and you feel a swell of magic before you shake them off. "I'm fine," You grit out, "Save your spells for the competitors." Even though you could use the healing, there's a reason clerics wait in the wings at the Pit. It's very possible that someone could be on death's door before the end of the day and if they die because you wasted a spell you'd never forgive yourself.

By the time you fight the darkness from the edges of your vision, Mollymauk is delivering the killing blow to the final Winter Wolf. You're not sure how he's still standing, let alone aware of his body enough to swing his swords like they weigh nothing. Your knees practically knock together as you gather your wits, wiping a hand down your sweaty face. The trials only get harder, and one hit almost took you down. You know you should heal yourself but you're not really sure if your nightly heals affect Mollymauk and, while you have no love for the Empire, it wouldn't be fair if your heals do help him. (And, again, there's the preemptive guilt of maybe not having enough energy for a lifesaving spell. You're just too selfish to use your pearl, too, so you have to make do and conserve your energy.)

The next group comes out and whispers flitter down the row of clerics to you: Owlbears are next. They're awful creatures, nasty when there's only one but two are damn near unmanageable. You happen to know these two aren't even mated, but that hardly matters. It's going to be a bloodbath at best, and at worst there'll be a death. Reaching over the wall, you unhook the latch that keeps it connected just in case you need to rush into the field. The beast-keepers are technically supposed to be the first on the scene, but you're also technically more powerful than they are. You rarely listen to the rules at the Victory Pit, mostly because you're a Crown Cleric and not from the Temple of the Platinum Dragon.

The fight is intense and the clerics next to you barely hold you back when several members of the team go down. They have clerics on their team, yes, but it's hard to tamp down your instincts when you were practically raised by your family for clericdom. It's only when you hear the whispering chatter that the beast-keepers are gathering the magical manacles that you jump into action, flinging open your door and sprinting into the field. The gasp from the crowd barely registers in your mind as you dodge an attack, skidding underneath and stopping next to what looks more like a bloody lump of cloth than a humanoid. The beast whirls on you, but you're faster. You've cast spiritual weapon before it can strike, the air in front of you and the injured party member shimmers and then, the first thing you thought of, a replica of one of Molly's scimitars but three times the size, appears and blocks the strike.

The Owlbear reels back again, going for another, but you're right there to block it. The beast-keepers are going to get an earful from you when you're done with the Pit, but for now, you're relieved that they've managed to subdue the beast and you can focus on the fallen. They're not in great shape, and with a precursory feel of their pulse, they're incredibly close to death.

You put your hands on either side of their neck, close your eyes, and pray. It's not necessarily a religious relationship with the deity that gives you the powers you have to heal, but it's still technically a prayer. The contestant heaves a deep breath, and you can feel the life rush into them from the fold between this plane and the next. The other clerics have gotten everyone else, so you focus on your patient. They probably need two or three more spells before they’re fully stabilized, which is going to burn through either your higher energy spells or all of your lower levels. You grit your teeth as you roll your patient onto the blade of your spiritual weapon, using it as a makeshift gurney. They’re already calling for the next team as if the clerics they’ve hired aren’t already spread thin trying to keep this team from dying. The Mighty Nein are at the doors, holding them open for the clerics, and you barely catch Molly’s eyes as you bring your patient off of the Pit floor and into the waiting room. The scimitar disappears as you lay them on a cot, quickly finding the worst wounds and sealing them with magic, burning through a lot of the spells you prepared and the arcane energy that it takes to cast.

The next beasts are angry and wily - displacer beasts - so you don’t really have time to think about how Molly is lingering near you, trying to find a time to talk to you while you’re trying to keep this person from dying. You stabilize them eventually, but the scarring will be intense. There’s nothing that you can do about that with what you’ve got now. Outside you can hear the next team win against the beasts and stress begins to bundle in your shoulders at the thought of how quickly the Pit is moving. Molly is hovering over your shoulder as you step back and begin clearing the blood off of your hands, despite his group being called out once more.

“That was my sword,” He rumbles, keeping his voice down and stepping even closer to you when you turn around. You track his tail thwipping through the air behind him, either very agitated or incredibly curious. Either could be incredibly accurate, and you don’t really have enough time to parse any information from the rest of his body language.

“Yes, it was,” You want to grumble, but it comes out softer than you intended, “Sorry, but you’re being called and I have to get back to my station so that you don’t die.” Molly tries to catch your arm when you slip around him, but with a promise and a smile you turn back to face him. “Don’t fucking die out there, and then we can talk, okay?” You wish that you could tell him, warn him really, that they’re about to face a Hill Giant. An incredible creature, really, but pushed to a near unreachable limit by the beast-keepers and their prodding, angry spears and arrows. It makes you sick to your stomach, but this is your job. The Empire pays your bills and keeps you fed - they would not tolerate any dissent from you on the matter of the Victory Pit and the treatment of the creatures captured specifically for death, no matter how strong of a case you can make. Instead of telling Molly what he’s up against, you casually brush the back of your fingers against his hand and let your magic make its way into his system. He should be okay, you think, the blessings of a cleric are strong.

Making your way back to your station, you fidget with your uniform. One of your friends - using the term loosely because you’re more like coworkers - catches your sleeve as you pass him. He’s grinning, mischief in his eyes. “You’ve never given a contestant your blessings before, what’s so special about him?”

“I didn’t do anything,” You pull away from Brock, “I just told him that if he wins, we can have a conversation. That’s all.” You shoot him a pointed look and then, after glancing around to make sure nobody else is looking, a wink. Brock grins and relaxes into his station, shaking his head. You’re known to push the limits, but outright break the rules? It’s almost unheard of for you. Everyone knows you’re blessed with a soulmate and Zadash is a bustling metropolis, frequented by the sort of people who get the injuries you sometimes show up to work with. They know you’ll need to stick around to find them, so you’ve only pushed the limits the Empire gives you, not outright shoot past them. By the time you’ve found your station again, the Hill Giant is almost out onto the Pit floor, and Brock has probably figured out why you’re so soft on one particular contestant.

The giant knocks out one of the pillars, roaring so deeply it vibrates in your chest. He’s pissed, rightfully so. The spines sticking out of his body make you sick to your stomach, and you have to look away. Your eyes find the halfling that was with Molly earlier, but as she sprints off toward the human woman, you realize that she’s a goblin. An interesting myriad of people traveling together, but you’ve seen strangers come through your town. She fires off two of her bolts, missing entirely, and you watch one arc through the air and strike off of the helmet of a Guard, who yelps.

You snicker as she takes off again, and the human man fires off his magic. It’s strange to see magic come from another person, especially magic that is clearly learned and not given. It almost makes you wish that your magic was learned instead of bestowed upon you but that would mean losing Molly, who you’re already rather fond of. You’re watching the man try to keep his cool and almost miss the other tiefling casting - a giant fucking lollipop appearing out of the air, smacking the giant, and then flames rocketing out of her hands to hit him, as well. You grin when you realize she’s a cleric, too. You wonder if she has a soulmate, but it would be improper to ask.

When the giant reels back and hurls a large chunk of wall, you suck in a breath. Everything is happening so fast, and Molly… Not only will it hurt to take the hits, but he’ll get hurt. It’s not just about you, but if he goes down so will you, and then you can’t help anyone. You’re almost relieved when the giant turns toward the half-orc, but then Molly is sprinting up toward the giant’s legs, his swords out. He’s a melee fighter, getting right into the thick of it and making your skin crawl. Molly’s swords carve through the giant like butter, making you cringe because the giant is pissed, and Molly won’t have time to get away from whatever is about to happen to him.

When the giant whips around, his eyes are fully black and bleeding down his face. You’re almost certain that’s Molly’s doing, but you don’t really have time to figure it out. The giants club swings up, and then down, and before Molly hits the ground your world has gone hazy with pain and darkness.

The pain and darkness keep their hold on you for what feels like forever. You know that eventually you’ll wake up, but floating in the darkness of unconsciousness you think of Molly. Did someone heal him? Is he okay? You’ve felt the other times he’s died, the way it rips you apart inside, the way you sleep for what feels like days before you wake up. Is this the same way? Has Molly died, even for a second, and you’re left to suffer the consequences? The stories your family told you all ended with soulmates together, no longer bearing the injuries of the other, because of the love that they share and the way they give and take equally. Nobody told you stories of soulmates where one dies over and over again - or at least comes close to doing so rather regularly. You’re still floating in the abyss when you hear his voice. Molly’s voice startles you because normally it’s the deity who blessed you with magic that comes to you, reminding you that everything is going to be okay.

But this time it’s Molly. He’s saying your name, asking you to wake up so that he can see your eyes again. Faintly, as you drift closer and closer to the surface, you can feel the light tracings of fingertips against the crest of your cheekbone and the faint wisp of breath against your hair. He keeps speaking, telling you things that you’re not sure you’ll remember when you finally float to the surface.

That happens faster than normal. When your eyes finally feel light enough to open, Molly is there. He looks a little worse for wear, but you can tell he has at least one healing spell in him. When he realizes you’re awake, a large grin splits his face. “There you are, darling,” He sighs, leaning forward in his chair to be even closer to you, “Scared me for a moment there.”

“Now that I’ve found you I highly doubt that you can get rid of me, Mollymauk.” Your voice is hoarse as you push yourself up, one of Molly’s hands curling around your shoulder to help you sit up on the cot. When you’re upright he moves from the chair he had set up next to your bed to sit next to you, his entire side pressed against yours. “You are a man who is constantly in danger.”

“That I am,” He leans against you, his horn pressing into the side of your head but you don’t mind. He’s warm and nice. The aches in your body numb a little bit just by being near him, but Molly seems like he has a bit of an ego so you don’t mention that. “Do you know why we feel each other this way?”

“Have you heard of soulmates, Molly?” You drop your voice to a whisper and turn your face to him, your lips pressed against his lavender forehead, “My family has legends of them, given to clerics to help them become the best healers they can be. Pushed to their limits by the other’s injuries, but also filled with an overwhelming need to be good enough. To have enough power. To protect, and love, and heal.” You kiss his forehead, hoping it’s not too bold, and let one of your last healing spells flow through his body. The last one you cast on yourself.

“It’s rotten work to love me, darling.” Molly finally says, one hand searching yours out, “But I do feel much better having met you. I feel connected, loved.”

“It’s not rotten work to love you, Molly. I’ve loved you for a long time, and I do not plan on stopping now.” You kiss his forehead again and his head turns, his own lips pressing against the side of your neck as he sighs, “Perhaps your work is not done in Zadash, but it should be soon.” You drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper so that only Molly can hear you, “War is coming, Mollymauk. You, The Mighty Nein… You should run before you’re conscripted to fight.”

“And you?” He asks, red eyes never leaving yours as he pulls you impossibly closer, “What about you?”

“I… I’ll come with you, if you’ll have me.” You watch the shock flicker across his face for a brief moment, but then it settles into something that you can’t find a name for. “But if not, you don’t have to worry about me. I won’t be conscripted to be a War Cleric, not at first. They’ll take the clerics from the temples before they take me.”

Molly caresses the side of your face with his other hand, a small and hesitant smile playing on his face. “Darling, of course, I’ll have you. The Nein will, too. We’re meant to be together, after all.”

[c-is-for-circinate]

Post-ep 123 Reaction

Wow, y’all.  What a ride.

You know, I used to do these after every single CR episode.  Every single one, 2 AM, exhausted and dazed, trying to pour out smart thinky thoughts onto tumblr because I’d be so overflowing with ideas and feelings.

I haven’t so much, lately, and I think part of that is just the fact that I have not been enjoying this Aeor arc.  I’ve hated the traveling along with Lucien in a way that’s made it unpleasant to watch, instead of fun.  (For me, personally!  Many people have been enjoying the tension, and I know the players have been enjoying the tension, and that’s fine!  Yay for them!)  Some of the ancient ruins explorations, too, have gotten just a little too creepy-horror-game for sitting alone in my apartment at one in the morning.  I’ve had less to say.  I’ve wanted to say it less.

And that’s not true tonight.  I can’t remember the last time I got excited about a CR episode like I was tonight.  Oh, there’ve been bits and moments I loved all throughout, there always are, that’s why I’m still watching live even in an arc that hasn’t thrilled me, but I loved the whole episode today, all five and a half hours of it, and god that feels good.

So in celebration, some specific bullet points:

The start of the episode, the discovery of the eyes on Beau and Caleb.  The attempts at science.  The fear, and yet, also, the glimmers of...okay but what if we could use this?  (The moment in the second half, after the Tombtakers ran off, when Beau suggests going into her dreams to ask for help to find them--yes.  Yes.  I still don’t have a lot of interest in evil wizard plotlines when you doom yourself/the world/etc out of curiosity, but the willingness to dive into this terrifying thing that might change you, might break you, because you need what it can give you in order to save a thing you love (your friends, the world) more than you need to be whole or sane or even, necessarily, alive--that is my GOOD SHIT.)     

Guys, I just loved every single minute of that white dragon fight, okay?  It was such a mess.  It was such a mess!  And look, there’s a very specific kind of frenetic energy that the table gets when they find themselves in the middle of a terrifying boss battle, and there’s a different very specific kind of wild ‘this may as well happen’ energy they get when things go terribly wrong entirely due to random chance, and getting the compound of both of those things at once is always glorious.  Nobody is prepared for anything!  Everybody is freaking out!  There’s good reason to suspect that, even if someone dies a bit, everyone’s going to make it out alive, but shit’s wild in the middle there and it’s just such a joy to watch.     

Likewise, I know that final fight was really stressful for both the cast and a lot of viewers, but honestly in so many ways I watched it feeling so much less stressed than the past few weeks have made me?  Yes, it was a horrible, horrible fight, the team in so far over their heads, so low on sleep and spells and any resources at all.  But, god, thank god, at least it was finally over.  There’s no going back to fake amity with the Tombtakers after this, no more playing along and trying to plot treason while the person you’re plotting against is probably hearing every word.  Enemies can be faced!  They can be fought, or fled, or defeated, they can be destroyed or put off for another day, but at least nobody’s pretending any more while trapped in wary uncertain fear of their own houseguests.  At least now it’s done.     

The fucking Iron Shepherds parallels.  Just.  Yes. I have hated the trapped feelings of traveling alongside Lucien and his crew, but the Iron Shepherds parallels are, while stab-me-in-the-heart painful, so fucking good.  The very best moments with Lucien have been the ones that mimic Mollymauk, not even because they bring hope that Molly could come back to us someday (although that’s there, that faint shimmering thread), but because it is always the best, worst, most glorious twist of irony. Molly died trying to save his friends, saving his friends, from the violence of a monster who was so very like him in all the ways he was terrified to know.  Lorenzo and his ragtag group of multiclassed minions, full of loyalty, arrogance, unexpected powers, here to torture and enslave.  The Nein have more power now, a little more negotiated control, they are different--but so much of it is just window-dressing as they’ve been dragged along on this pell-mell journey against their will, told when to walk and when to sleep, headed towards a place they would’ve gone anyway at the behest of someone they really do not give a shit about any more.  It’s so much the same. And the thing that is beautiful, and the thing that I love, the one thing for which I do love Lucien, is just--god, the irony.  The irony!  Because it’s not just that Lucien is like Lorenzo, that Molly turns out to be like the man that killed him after all; it’s not just Lucien, all unknowing, rebuilding old grudges and replaying old scenes without even knowing them.  It’s the fact that Molly’s death is the only reason this can happen in the first place. Mollymauk Tealeaf, murdered and buried, wanting only to protect his teammates from a megalomaniacal killer--sacrificing himself on a hope and a chance that maybe, maybe, he and his friends could all survive, and they’d all be fucked anyway if he didn’t--he died to do it.  And it worked.  They were safe, for a little while, for long enough to rescue Jester and Yasha and Fjord.  Long enough to keep going, to leave part of the world better than they found it, to canonize him in his own way.  Except now here they are again, worse and deeper into the same shit than ever before, and it never could have been like this if Molly had survived.  He derailed Lorenzo long enough to save them then, and created the forward path for the Lucien they’re facing now. It’s terrible.  It’s beautiful.  And that’s some damn good storytelling.

The start of the next episode is going to be very very hard for the Nein!  In so many ways, they’re back exactly where they were episodes ago when they first started traveling with Lucien’s crew to begin with: one threshhold crest in their possession, beat to hell and almost entirely out of spells, exhausted, in desperate need of a long rest, with a probably-pursuing enemy that doesn’t seem inclined to let them have one.  It’s as untenable now as it was then.

They have so much more knowledge now (was it worth it?).  They have their own connection to the city now (will it cost them more than they’ve gained?).  Maybe they have a direction.  Probably they’ve got options.  They’ve got an angel, an owl, a wooly mammoth, and a destination.  Maybe, if they’re very fast and very lucky, maybe, if Caleb uses a teleport spell or they somehow manage to navigate through the snow in their exhaustion with all their luck, they’ll make it to Essek in time to collapse almost safely.  They’ve needed backup so badly.  They’ve needed someone, anyone, to keep them safe for just a few hours so they can plan, and think, and sleep.

And they’ve been so busy trying to play nice, giving in to their fear, trying to avoid the fight they just dove into (with half the team exhausted and half their spell slots gone!), that they haven’t let themselves go and get those things.  And now they’re out the other side of that fight.  Now they know, just a bit more, what Lucien and his team are made of.

Now they can finally, maybe, maybe, start finding ways to take back their own control instead of keeling over with the fear.  I hope.  I hope, I hope, I hope.

[dent-de-leon]

When a wizard's Transmuter's stone is destroyed from Raise Dead, does it just disappear? Or does it shatter into little pieces? Asking because...picturing Caleb gathering up all the shattered shards of his lucky rock, trying not to think about how he couldn't bring Molly back. How he "failed" him, couldn't save him, even after everything--

Kingsley quietly admitting one day that he's still grateful--that the fact Caleb tried so hard, came this far, did everything he could...that still means something. During the initial resurrection ritual, he still felt something. Still heard someone promise him he wouldn't be Empty anymore.

King asking to keep one of the broken little fragments of Caleb's old Transmuter's stone. "For luck--"

[personalityisnice]

I'm of two minds about the third personality to seemingly arise from Taliesin Jaffe's perpetually undead Lavender Tiefling.

On the one hand, Molly's narrative is rife with themes related to the uneasy balance of memory and identity. Lucien is alien to the Nein when he meets them because he is like Molly in some ways but isn't him. His personality is just familiar enough to be not quite right, even without any of Molly's memories. It's familiar but in a twisted, ''off'' kind of way. And this feeling of not-quite-right only gets more profound as he progressively reveals how mad and dangerous he truly is.

New boy is, as far as we can tell, not the mad tyrant Lucien was, but still has that sense of wrongness to him. Arguably more so than Lucien, because he's so much closer to who Molly was. He is a Tealeaf, after all.

And this interplay between identity and memory confronts the cast and audience with uncomfortable questions about how joint memories and experiences can shape relationships and how much those can fail to matter in how a friend develops and lives their lives. The Nein rightly agree to let Kingsley be who he is and accept he isn't remembering them, but you can tell it's painful even as they respect his choices. The closeness they had as friends through their memories is within sight but still completely out of reach.

On the other hand, I can't seem to make myself forget the fact that Molly sighted the greatest lie he ever told as the con he pulled where he convinced an entire town he was royalty.

Or kingley.

I also can't shake from my mind Taliesin Jaffe's repeatedly demonstrated love for stupid puns.

Matt confirmed in his epilogue that Kingsley remembers at least some of the fight between the Mighty Nein and Lucien, where he was trying desperately to help them with almost no way to do so. And Molly wouldn't know that Yasha suffered a very similar fate and was still embraced by and loved by the Nein in the wake of her liberation. He might've wanted to give them an excuse to not be around him.

And the tiefling in question seemed to remember them before he woke up at the Blooming Grove. Or in other words, before he had his faculties together enough to construct a con.

Do I think this is the case? I'm not even 15% sure this could be what's happening. So don't say that I am.

Do I think it's something that circus-born strutting peacock of an asshole would do even if he didn't? That, even if that's not what's going on here, it would be 100% in character for him to do so?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

[joyfulsongbird]

sooooo. I wrote a Thing. all credit to @defilerwyrm for the concept of the mighty nein getting consecuted based on their connection to the beacon and credit to @mightymightynein for coming up with the idea that because molly died in proximity to the beacon, he would then come back in another body. none of these ideas are mine, I just couldn't resist writing out a little thing!! thank you both for your great ideas <3

ao3 link!!

*

Mollymauk Tealeaf wakes.

Not quickly, not all at once, but he wakes nonetheless. It does not feel like coming to, nor is it really the idea we all have of snapping awake one day and coming to the realization that you are not where you belong. He is born again, and born with the name Enna. He is a purple skinned drow, which pleases him that even in the next life he still has a lavender hue to his skin. He looks at himself in the mirror, once he comes to the realization. He looks at his features and tries to rearrange them into something he knew years ago, he imagines this face with horns, these brown eyes with red ones. It is strange, to look at what he knows is himself and it feels correct but at the same time, like something is missing. He grows used to the idea: his name is Mollymauk, he was a member of the Mighty Nein, he died and now he lives again. He does not know why but it takes time in order for him to fully come back to himself.

One night, after he is able to differentiate which memories are from his present life and which ones are from the last, he disappears. He had not been very attached to the family in this present life, they were distant as many parents were and even before his realization, he looked forward to the day he got to spread his wings and leave the nest. This just… pushes things forward a bit. He wraps an enchanted cloak around himself that would protect him from the sun (one that he had stolen months ago, old habits die hard), as that is something he has to worry about now, and sets off into the first adventure of his second life.

He walks and sorts through the memories in his head. Remembers their faces, their voices, the things they did, the way it sounded when they all laughed. On his travels, he purchases a deck of tarot cards. They are not his cards, not as elegant or artistic as the ones he used to own, but they feel good in his hands. His fingers slowly remember how to shuffle the deck, how to flip them between his fingers, and make them disappear, then reappear as if he had snatched them from behind somebody’s ear. He remembers, and it feels wonderful to be able to be a whole person.

His travels are long, he is only going on foot, and he only has so much money. To earn some coin, he gives tarot readings in bars and on the street just like he used to. People goggle at him, differently than they used to. Drows are not all that common, he finds, and it is especially not all that common to find a teenaged drow sitting in a bar with a grin on his face, telling an old man his future with as much confidence as somebody triple his age. As is his nature, people are drawn to him. He had forgotten the electric feeling that buzzes through his whole body when he is surrounded by life like this. It’s a wonderful thing, to feel alive even when you have died twice. And since he has experienced being lifeless twice before (only one of which he can remember his last breath leaving his body), he wants to experience it all again. Nothing wrong with that.

Months go by and he finds himself in Port Damali. He does not know where he is going nor does he have a destination but hopes that someday, fate will shove him near the Mighty Nein again by chance and he will be able to brush sleeves with them in this life too. He sits in a tavern, like he does every day, and tells a young woman that someday her spine will stop aching and that she needs to work less and that she’ll have at least three children. She grins at him and he grins back, already scooping up the three cards she had picked out and is waving his hand absently for somebody new to sit down.

“Do you read tarot cards ‘cause I really, really love tarot cards and I can read them too, you know? You read mine and then I’ll read yours, okay?” it takes him a moment, as he looks at the tiefling sitting across from him. She’s older now, wiser around her eyes but still just as bright in her smile. She’s dressed for the area, in what one could only ever describe as classic pirate garb. Molly smiles at her, his chest aching. It almost pains him to see her again, in this way where she does not recognize him. She leans forward eagerly, legs kicking back and forth under the table. She hasn’t changed.

He clears his throat, not prepared to let his thoughts get the better of him. “Of course! Here, pick whichever cards call to you. Three of them, if you please.”

She happily chooses three, placing them face down on the table all nice and even. Before he can turn them over, she leans in very close. She narrows her eyes at him, “do you know my name?” He laughs, loud and clear. “Let’s see if the cards tell us that, hm?”

Satisfied, she leans away, watching as he flips over the first card. He considers the card for a long time, and Jester watches, enraptured. “You’re a kind soul, aren’t you?”

She nods vigorously. Molly taps his chin in faux thoughtfulness. “You love to draw, am I correct?”

She gasps, “how did you know that? I do!”

“The cards told me.” he says, as means of an explanation. He flips over the next card without further analysis. “Ooooh, interesting. You should not let doubt plague you, you’re far too important to those around you to let those skills go to waste. Don’t hold back, let your chaos run free, my dear.” “That’s what I always say!” her voice rises in excitement and they get several odd glances from surrounding patrons. “You’re so good at this, oh my god!”

He simply smiles, before flipping over the final card. He forces a frown and Jester leans forward again, glancing rapidly from his face and back down to the card. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“You’ve lost things,” he says. “But don’t worry, you will find that not all is lost forever. Jester.” She jumps to her feet, her face alight with joy. Joy. He grins. He had been right, then, when he had named her card that.

She runs a small ways over to another table and grabs somebody's arm, dragging a familiar half-orc all the way back to Molly’s table, her words nearly incoherent out of excitement.

“Fjord, look, look! Tell him what you said, tell him what you saw in the cards- I told you, Fjord! It was the coolest thing, he knew my name, he knew it! I swear, look! Look at the cards!” she bounces up and down, her words strewn together as she points at the three cards laid out. Fjord looks down at them, then glances up at Molly who shrugs as he gathers up his deck and slips them back into his bag, finished for the night.

“I don’t know what they mean.” he says helplessly. Jester rolls her eyes, grabbing Fjord’s hand and then grabbing Molly’s.

“I want you to teach me! I’ve been practicing for-ever and I can’t get that good.” She grabs him and Fjord back to the corner table that Fjord had been sitting at by himself. She forces them both to sit.

“Jester,” Fjord says before she can get comfortable. “Could you grab me a drink from the bar?”

“Okay!” she doesn’t seem to question why, just bounces over to the bar and leaves the two of them in silence.

“How did you know her name?” Fjord asks gruffly. “I know it’s not because of the cards. Are you a spy of some kind? Seem a little young to be a spy.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.” It takes him a long stretch of quiet before he can even come up with the words. It hasn’t quite felt real up until this moment, up until he was faced with the ghosts of his past who aren’t actually ghosts. They are very much alive, only aged and more weathered than he knew them last. As he explains, as briefly as humanly possible, he watches Fjord’s eyebrows raise higher and higher. His eyes grow wide and fists clench on top of the table. Mollymauk knows it sounds insane, it doesn’t sound real, by anybody’s standards. There’s an uncomfortable pause after he’s done speaking when neither Fjord nor him know what to say. They are interrupted (maybe “saved” would be the correct word) by Jester returning with Fjord’s drink.

“Why so quiet guys?” she asks.

Fjord opens and closes his mouth, his face paler, “we need to go see Essek.”

[bougiebutchbitch]

Yasha obviously

Thank you guys!! @sabulum-p

Y’all know me well, lmao.... I deserve this....... and I’m grateful, I was really praying someone would ask about her!

Why I like them

I love literally everything about this bish-

Big tough character with a Villain Aesthetic (who's actually super soft and sweet)?

Epic, terrifying tank of a warrior (who's one of the gentlest members of the Nein?)

Lawful (with a massive chaotic streak that strikes when you least expect)?

Tragic backstory (that never feels overplayed or made light of, but which leaves very believable scars on her psyche)?

A complex narrative about surviving trauma, healing and growing and learning how to love again, which leads to her accepting that she herself may be worthy of love?

Yeah, sign me up.

THIS TURNED INTO AN ESSAY SORrY

Why I don’t

NOTHING, she is PERFECT

Do I occasionally wish Ashley spoke up more? Yes. Though I totally appreciate the effect of performance nerves, in some episodes, I was like '....Yasha said one line in four hours'.

But yanno what? That often made perfect sense for her character - especially in the early Ukotoa arc, when she was rejoining the gang after Molly's death! So I shamelessly use her silence to fuel more angst. And it helps that whenever Yasha does speak, everything she says is either adorable, badass, heart-wrenchingly tragic or hilarious!

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

Too many to choose from.... I love the opening circus scene....... I love the hot tub........... I love 'you appreciate grass????'...... I love the RELENTLESS AWFULNESS of the Obann arc..... I love the fish market and the ball....... I love the flight scene on Rumblecusp...... I love the letter...... I love-love-love the date.........

But I gotta go for that scene with Molly in 140. I was crying just as much as the rest of the cast. "Empty - " "Molly. Mollymauk Tealeaf." “Empty.” “No.” "...Love?" I'm not okay their relationship means so much to me

...OR THE ROBE SCENE because I laughed so hard it physically caused me pain

Favorite season/movie

I gotta say the Aeor arc! Yasha's character just keeps getting more loveable throughout the entirety of CR2. It's so beautiful watching her open up with her friends. 

:Insert metaphor here about her being a flower just waiting to bloom:

Favorite line

Again... too many to choose from....

"I killed my whole family, I'll throw you under a bridge- :sighs: I'm still learning how to people."

".....I smell like a crayon."

"You make me feel stronger. You make me feel safe."

"I GOT THE ROOOOOBE"

Favorite outfit

Gotta say, her second outfit? With all the black straps and the goth villain vibes? Hot DAMN, ma'am.

OTP

....do ya even need to ask

it's obviously

VASHA

(Joking. Or am I????)

Brotp

Molly and Yasha were my favourite duo to start with. The depiction of their relationship - the strength of that platonic love - is so near and dear to my heart.

Head Canon

Super cute sneezes. Super loud snores.

Unpopular opinion

I don't even know if it's an 'unpopular' opinion anymore, but my girl is not a dom lmaoooo

A wish

I haven't seen the finale yet. But I really hope that she, Beau and Molly wind up in some way together, wherever and however that might be. I pray she stays close to Molly.

And I know it's a longshot, but if the three of them could adopt Kiri and TJ, please and thank you??

An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen

If she's ever long-term mind controlled again, I think that would break her.

For added bonus, have Beau and Molly both try to save her.

Have Yasha fight them both.

Have Yasha win.

I don't think she'd come back from that. If she didn't find a way to end herself, I think she'd be completely dead inside. So - yeah! No thank you (yes please to a horribly whumpy fanfic though, where the rest of the Nein manage to rescue her and have to deal with... that broken, barely-responsive, suicidal aftermath).

5 words to best describe them

soft...... strong........................ scary.......... shy................... [Molly voice] Love?

My nickname for them

yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaas-sha

[probably-not-sherlock]

Kingsley, Lucien and Mollymauk Tealeaf were triplets, orphans.

Once upon a time, they grew up together, their bond strong as steel. They even got matching tattoos. Then one day, when they were still barely adults, Kingsley got into an accident, not of his own fault, and ended up in a coma. 

Molly and Lucien started arguing. 

Time passed, the arguments getting worse and worse. Their brother didn't wake up.

Molly and Lucien ended up in a screaming match over Kingsley's hospital bed. It was meaningless, empty words, a week later they didn't recall what they had even said, but when you are so close, you know how to cut deep. And while the words didn't stay, the pain did.

Both Molly and Lucien ended up leaving.

Lucien, who had fallen in more and more with a cult. Molly, looking to just get away, to live life, to bring others joy and maybe find it again himself. Molly ran away to the circus.

Time went by. 

One day, Molly met a ragtag group of people, brought together by circumstance, and held together by neccesity.

He loved them. 

On a walk through the darkness, running after the shadowy figure who snatched one of their own, he died for them.

Months later, this ragtag group had grown, become stronger, had taken his lessons to heart, and they screamed when they laid eyes on a person, that looked so much like their lost friend. 

Lucien wasn't sure what these people wanted, going on and on about his brother. He still remembers getting the note, that one of his blood had passed, but not the one he had expected. 

When the Neins path last crossed with Luciens, it ended in a police shootout and another Tealeaf dead. 

“Who will take care of everything? His friends are dead, he had no relatives left, and his only brother is dead as well.”

They were surprised when they were informed that they were wrong. Lucien had a dead brother, sure, but he also had another one, one that was alive, and  had awoken from a coma but a few days ago. 

The Nein went to see Kingsley. 

It was jarring, seeing this man. He laid still for multiple years, yet he resembled the friend they knew so much more than the person who had been moving and breathing and pointing a gun at them mere days ago.

Years later, Kingsley will look back at that time.

Waking up, alone, but not alone. 

Being surrounded by love, even though he didn't recognize any of the faces. 

He woke up, loved, because they had loved his brother and had opened up their hearts to him, so that they may love him too.