#and it's usually done so he can be with essek for longer but essek and old man caleb make me CRAZY. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ariadne-mouse · 2 years

Text

Prompt: Shadowgast have been arguing for some time about Caleb's decision to end their romantic relationship later in his life; an injury brings the discussion to a head

(~1k words, cw: lifespan angst)

“Essek!”

As soon as the fight is done, the abyssal beast finally dead (if still horrific), Caleb runs to the sprawled form of his companion as fast as his creaky knees will take him. He carelessly drops his staff — as much a walking aid as an arcane focus, these days — and bloodies his hands trying to staunch Essek’s wounds. Jester is close behind, healing magic wielded like a weapon as she slams it into his unconscious form. Essek gasps awake; his next sound is a groan.

“Never do something so foolish again,” Caleb grits out, his shaking hands moving almost of their own accord as he checks Essek over for wounds, urging Jester for another dose of healing. She eventually leans back on her hands, exhausted, and calls Caduceus over in her stead.

When Caleb impatiently unbuttons Essek’s tunic to check where the creature stabbed him with a long spine, Essek cracks a wan smile.

“You are being very familiar for someone who is no longer my lover.”

“You are being very witty for someone who almost died,” Caleb hisses in return. “You are supposed to outlive me, remember?”

“I remember.” The words are a quiet sigh, but they carry well enough in a space no longer cluttered with shouts and explosions. “I cannot forget.”

Caleb starts as fingertips touch his cheek, and Essek carefully tucks a curl of silver-white hair — a color they now share — behind his ear. He thumbs the corner of Caleb’s mouth next, trying to soothe away the frown there.

“You wear your features so handsomely when you are not scowling. Hm. Well, also when you are scowling, if I’m honest.”

“I’m an old man,” Caleb retorts, discomfited.

“Yes,” Essek agrees, fondly.

Caleb’s frown quavers. “I question your taste.”

Caduceus arrives, and soon Essek’s wounds have vanished entirely, except for the ache of memory. They are all exhausted, but whole. The nearby town is safe.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Jester complains, spread-eagle a short distance away, staring at the night sky. “We were supposed to be having a nice time. There were supposed to be cupcakes.”

“There can still be cupcakes,” Essek points out, getting up with a wince. “We protected the town, and therefore the bakery.” He helps Caleb to his feet next, steadying him until his staff is safely back in hand. He prestidigitates the blood from both of them.

“Cupcakes would be nice,” Caduceus agrees, stretching. “Cupcakes with a nice cup of tea.”

They leave the monster’s carcass behind and make their way towards distant welcoming lights. Caleb’s pace is the slowest, as usual, but Essek is there beside him. As usual.

The night is full of quiet sounds, of crickets, of the breeze through the fields.

Caduceus and Jester have pulled ahead enough to offer a semblance of privacy; a thoughtful gesture by Caduceus, a coincidence for Jester — cupcakes are in the farther direction.

At last, Essek speaks.

“I respect your wishes,” he begins. His hands fidget, and he frowns. “I am happy with whatever you would like to call us in relation to each other. If I am your friend, I am that, and I remain happy.”

“Now it is you who is scowling,” Caleb points out, glancing at him.

“I don’t always understand,” Essek concedes. “For me, Caleb, nothing has changed.” He pauses in the pathway, turning to face him. “I love you. I continue to love you.” He swallows. “Very much.”

“I know,” Caleb makes an aborted move as though to touch him, then stops.

“If your feelings have changed, I respect that as well–”

“They haven’t,” Caleb interrupts. He gives into his impulse, this time, and takes Essek’s hand. “You are as wonderful to me as you always have been.”

“Or if you simply wish to be unattached—”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Or if you don’t wish for the things that lovers do? Again, I do not need these things if you do not want them–”

“I cannot admit that, either,” Caleb is pained, sheepish. The quiet and the darkness make it easier to say things he wouldn’t in broad daylight.

“Then I don’t understand,” Essek concludes. He puts his other hand over Caleb’s, smoothing knobbly knuckles. A rare tear slides down his cheek, glittering in the starlight. “Why do you hold me at arm’s length, except when things are dire?”

Caleb steps close, compelled to heal the fracture he has caused.

“I am old, Essek,” he says, his own eyes prickling. “I will die, and you will go on. It’s easier this way.”

“Is it?” Essek asks, meeting his eyes again, hurt and bewildered. “If you wish to be friends and nothing more, say so and I will be happy, but do not treat me as a stranger while you say it.”

Caleb takes a harsh breath. ‘I—” he stops, restarts. “I don’t wish to cause you pain. I had intended to lessen it: sharper now, but better later. After.”

“Caleb Widogast.” The name is a full sentence in Essek’s mouth. He extracts his hands from their grip so that he can cup Caleb’s face instead. “The depth of that wound is already made, I’m afraid. I will carry it regardless. I will carry it even if I die before you. There is risk of that too, you know.”

A distant shout reaches them on the breeze, puncturing their aloneness. Caduceus and Jester are small figures in the distance now, paused, looking back. Essek drops his hands.

Caleb wipes at his eyes. “We should catch up.”

Essek nods. “Yes.”

“I am listening. To what you are saying.”

“Alright.”

Caleb touches his shoulder. “Can you give me some time? To think?”

Essek meets his gaze, starlight-upon-starlight. “You can have as much of my time as you like.”

#this is of course just one imagining of how it happens #i think it's perfectly possible for people to lapse out of a romance and be just as happy #but here i'm taking the interpretation that Caleb is trying to do what he thinks is kind and failing at it #critical role #shadowgast #lifespan angst #ariadne writes CR #op #btw jester is still absolutely in her relative youth at this point #she is just Like That lol

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kmackatie · 3 years

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Intimacy+ 28/58/72/101?

I hope you have a good day!

Hello! I am thank you, hope you are too! Here we go with the first one of these. I'm sure I will get around to the others eventually I am sure!

Thank you to @mllekurtz for reading over this one prior to posting, it is a little longer than my 1k limit.

request a prompt from this list here

28 - brushing the other’s hair shadowgast, post canon, 1495 words, cw: non-sexual nudity

His fingers worked soap through the ends of Caleb’s hair, massaging gently and lathering up in the damp. Caleb sat in the large tub, water dripping down his back while Essek perched on the edge, feet submerged and tucked around to keep Caleb stable. A bit of dunamancy was helping him stay upright, with his pants rolled up to knee to protect them, tunic gone with his arms bare dressed in just his sleeveless undershirt.

“Tip your head back for me, sevgilim.” It was accompanied by his fingers gently guiding, carding through the damp strands.

Caleb did as he asked, eyes still closed and breathing deeply. Collecting the small bowl from the floor, Essek dipped it into the water before lifting it and tipping it slowly over Caleb’s hair. Working his hand through it, Essek methodically repeated the process, until all the soap had rinsed free.

“There we go.” Essek was talking to himself as much as he was Caleb, voice deliberately soft so as to not affect the calm peace Caleb had settled into. “First one done. Hmm, lavender, or your usual one with honey? Do you have a preference?” He leaned down, hands still in Caleb’s hair and placed a kiss against Caleb’s forehead. “It is more than fine if you don’t.”

He paused for a moment, to see if Caleb would respond, hands gently massaging through the strands.

“Lavender. Want to smell like you.”

Essek’s lips quirked into a brief smile, before he extracted one of his hands and tipped Caleb’s head forward.

“Lavender it is.”

This one was the closest Essek could find to his favourite conditioner from Rosohna, similar in scent though his was sure made with different plants. Lavender was a luxury, a symbol of status due to how difficult it was to grow. This one was sold for an exorbitant price in Nicodrans, reported to actually be from the Dynasty. It reminded him of home, a pang in his chest he couldn’t quite get rid of every time he opened it, and was the one indulgence he kept with, even now.

Scoping out some of the cream, Essek got to work, hands combing through and massaging into the roots. He moved methodically through it, making sure to capture each of the strands, before repeating the rise motion. There were little words between them, just the sound of Essek’s movements and water splashing, with the odd hum or subconscious muttering breaking it.

Before long, Essek was encouraging Caleb to rinse, and he took the moment to submerge fully while Essek rinsed his hands.

Breaking the surface with a gasp, Caleb leaned backwards and connected with where Essek’s knees were resting inside the tub. His head tipped back against them, and Essek smiled, shifting slightly on his seat to widen his legs to give Caleb more room to sit comfortably. He can’t help but return his hands to Caleb’s hair, enamoured as ever with the multitude of colours buried in there.

Even soaked and dripping, it was still stunning, the hues darkening to a deep russet and ochre that was found in some of the caves near Asarius. Some would call it muddy, and not a colour worth noting, but those people had not seen Caleb Widogast in a tub of water. It had gotten longer in the last few months, rivalling the length of Essek’s before he cut it off.

“Have you ever braided your hair?”

There was a huff of what Essek assumed was confusion or surprise as Caleb shifted under his hands, head twisting around slightly to look at Essek.

“Hmm?”

“Braiding. Have you ever let anyone braid your hair?”

Caleb blinked, processing the question before nodding.

“Jester, once. I never learned how.”

“May I?”

It was posed as a question, even as his hands started to divide the hair, designs and ideas in his mind. It would always be a question, the asking of permission to cross boundaries, to check in and make sure it was welcomed. It was something they had come to agree on, the need for consent and for it to be checked in on frequently.

Caleb nodded, eyes flicking closed as he sunk down a little further in the bath.

He lost himself in his task, hands that were a little out of practice finding their rhythm.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

It was meditative in it’s own way, as his mind focused on getting the patterns right. He paused, one hand with sections of hair cradled between each finger as he carefully turned Caleb’s head, checking on the progress. This style, it was that screamed Dynasty, and was a modification on one he used to weave into Verin’s hair, before they fell out. More intricate than normal, it was difficult to achieve on your own. There were a few strands that he gathered, tucking back in before continuing.

Section, weave, join. Pass over, pass under, join.

The style when complete, included four separate braids: two in a lattice style from the front center of Caleb’s head with the ends weaving into the traditional Thelyss-waterfall style, before morphing into smaller intricate braids that joined in a knot at the back of Caleb’s head. He fussed with the ends, tweaking a few places to get it to sit just right, before he sighed, hands dropping down to Caleb’s shoulders and squeezing gently.

“It’s done?” asked Caleb, voice low and rumbling.

“Mmm, canım, it’s done.”

“You seem practised at that.”

“It has been a while, but it seems there are some skills you do not forget, no matter how long it has been since you used them,” said Essek, hands now rubbing small circles into Caleb’s shoulders. “I used to braid for Verin. Back… well. It’s been many years since I’ve done that.”

A hand raised and covered his, squeezing his fingers gently.

“You are welcome to use my hair at any time, Schatz.”

He chuckled, flipping his palm over and linking his fingers with Caleb’s.

“Thank you. It’s nice to know I still remember them.”

“Explain them to me?”

Lifting his free hand, Essek tapped lightly against the first braid, before drawing his finger down and back against it.

“This one, this style is called ışık, it’s one unique to Den Kryn, though I have cut it through with a general Dynasty style. Very traditional, used by high-ranking officials, generals, members of the nobility.” He felt Caleb nod under his hands, following the explanation. “It honours the Bright Queen, and you’ll find most of the Dens use this one day to day. These ones here though”—he drew Caleb’s attention to the lower two, tapping gently and drawing his finger across them—“these ones are Thelyss braids, unique to our Den. Each one has them. Mostly special occasions, formal dinners, religious ceremonies, weddings, that’s when you see these ones.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, his thumb running circles into the back of Essek’s hand.

Essek tapped his hand on the delicate knot that draws the braids together, considering. He had been indulgent, when he wove this one in.

“This one, mmh. It’s, well. It is considered a kur yapmak, a gesture of courtship and intention. With a few adjustments, it is what I would have expected to be wearing—if I had the hair to do it with—when a marriage union would have been finalised.”

There was heat in his cheeks as he finished the explanation, and a sudden lurching of his heart. How would Caleb read this, the liberties he had taken?

Maybe Caleb felt something, his fingers still wrapped around Essek’s and brushing against his wrist, but he moved from between his legs. Water splashed over the sides, and Essek would have been annoyed if he hadn’t already sacrificed these pants to being drenched, but as it was he just leaned back and waited for Caleb to settle.

They were eye to eye now, Caleb kneeling with water running down his chest between Essek’s legs, hand still grasped in his hand. There was a look of quiet joy on his face, a light that danced between his eyes as he reached a hand out to cup Essek’s cheek. He can’t help but lean into it, Essek’s eyes dropping closed for a moment.

“That is an elaborate way to ask, Liebling.”

Essek chuckled, fondness colouring his tone as he smiled.

“You haven’t yet said no,” he pointed out, turning his head to kiss Caleb’s palm briefly. “But it is not a proposal. I… if that is something you are interested in, then we can talk about it.”

Caleb leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the tip of Essek’s nose, his cheek, before leaning in and capturing his mouth. Essek raised a hand, covering Caleb’s where it still rested against his cheek. It was a slow kiss, gentle and patient, and Essek savoured it.

They drew back, foreheads pressed together, and Essek felt Caleb smile.

“We can talk about it.”

#shadowgast #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role fandom #the mighty nein #my writing #my fic #non-sexual intimacy prompts #hwinia #katie replies #ask katie #ficlet #cr: fanfic

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critrolesideblog · 3 years

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Caleb Widogast pushed his hair out of his face for the ei--nineteenth time in about as many minutes. Caleb and Essek were reading for pleasure this evening, with the aid of Comprehend Languages: Caleb the collected poems of Erdan Niemi, a famous Drow bard, and Essek, Die Waldhexe und andere Zemnische Volksmärchen. They were seated at opposite ends of one of the sofas in the tower salon, their legs in the middle not quite touching. But some time into Essek's reading, the repeated scrape of sweater against paper edge and rustle of hand in hair became too much for him to ignore.

It was a long time coming really. Essek recalled that it had been Veth who had braided back Caleb's hair for him, when they were in Aeor last. Since there was no Veth to braid it this time around, Caleb had fallen into the habit of roughly tying it back in a ponytail or bun, with varying degrees of success, depending on the amount of effort he put into it, which, lately, was middling, and tonight, none at all. There were times when the mess was charming: when Caleb shuffled into the dining room in the morning, stray locks framing his face; when he ran his hand through his hair in excitement at a new discovery; when some friendly wind caused wayward strands to brush just so against his lips. At the moment, though... Essek took a large sip of his wine and set the glass gently back on the table. "Caleb?"

"Hmm?"

Despite the response, Essek knew better than to continue right away. Caleb's head tilted up toward him slowly, but his eyes lingered on the page a moment longer. When blue finally met lilac, Essek took a deep breath breath. "May I... braid your hair for you?"

Caleb blinked once, twice, three times, before his eyebrow and lips quirked up with a humor that was a little too insightful. "Well, if it’s bothering you..."

Essek gave a huff of laughter at being caught, before pressing his hands together in front of his lips, arranging his features into a semblance of solemnity. "It is driving me insane." Caleb laughed, as Essek hoped he would.

"I apologize if I have driven you to distraction," he replied, in a voice that sounded not remotely contrite. Essek averted his eyes and took another small sip of wine to provide an alibi for the warmth in his cheeks. "Please, by all means." Caleb pulled free the tie holding his hair in place, and with a small shake of his head, the copper strands fell down around his face and shoulders.

Essek gathered his composure, clearing his throat slightly. "Excellent -- ah, Liesl?" He said quickly, turning to the tortoiseshell cat relaxing in front of the fireplace. She opened one amber eye in response.

Liesl was Essek's right-hand cat. She had been standoffish at first, it was true, but it seemed Essek's years in politics were not wasted in the ruins of Aeor. "Liesl, would you please have Jaakko fetch me some additional hair ties and a comb?" Liesl, without raising her head from her paws, turned her gaze to the cat in question, all black and slender, whose interpretation of cleaning apparently included batting a piece of crumpled paper around the legs of a desk with incredible enthusiasm. At some unseen signal, he turned his attention to Liesl, and after a series of tail twitches, trotted off into a nearby cat door. She turned her gaze back to Essek. "Thank you, Liesl. That will be all." She chirped at him in response and returned to her nap.

Caleb's eyes were back on his book now, but Essek did not recall anything in Niemi's works amusing enough to justify the grin on Caleb's face, which Essek now had an excuse to give due consideration. He did not think the braids that Verin favored in their youth would suite him particularly well, and they were a bit elaborate for a night in, besides. Perhaps just a variation on the Gwardanian-style braid Veth employed.

Jaakko returned in no time, the items required laid out neatly on a tray held aloft by his long tail, and, with one last small sip of wine, Essek rose from the sofa and moved to stand behind Caleb. He took a deep breath as he picked up the amber comb from the tray. There was no cause, he told himself sternly, for his heart to be racing as it was, which was, of course, a lie. He raised the comb above the copper strands. "I am going to begin now?"

"Ja, danke."

Whether the thanks was for the impending braid or the warning, Essek was not sure, but he drew the edge of the comb gently back along the scalp, carefully delineating a section of hair at the top of Caleb's head. He tied the sides and back out of the way, and if his face warmed at the brush of fingertips on neck, there was no one able to see it. He gathered up the hair closest to Caleb's face and divided it in thirds, before weaving the right third over the center and then left over center. He repeated the process, carefully gathering more strands in on the sides as he went. He was about halfway through with the braid, when Caleb leaned to the left without warning, nearly pulling the locks from his grasp.

"Pysy paikallasi!" Essek hissed, decades-old habit causing the words to spill from his lips in Undercommon, but it did not matter. Comprehend Languages was still in effect. "Mitä sinä teet?"

"I want some wine," Caleb explained, extending his arm to the side to demonstrate that the glass was just out reach.

"Did Veth allow you to move around when she braided your hair?"

"She never complained."

"Then she spoiled you terribly."

"Will you hand me the wine?"

"No," he replied sternly, gathering the strands into one hand, careful not to mix them up, and then leaning over and passing the goblet to its owner.

"You are a riot, Herr Thelyss," Caleb said dryly, but Essek caught a glimpse of a grin as he straightened.

"I am glad you think so. I have been thinking of taking my comedy show on the road when we are done here."

"You should ask Veth if she has any material you can use. Will there be a Mighty Nein discount on tickets?"

"Please, if anything, I should charge you all extra for the honor of heckling me."

Caleb gave a mock gasp. "The Nein? Heckle you? We would never."

"Ha! Tell me another one!"

Caleb's shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Essek stopped gathering new hair into the top braid, braiding the remaining length of the locks together, and tying them off. He then shifted to the left and began the process again with a section starting at Caleb's left temple. From this vantage point, he could spy the gilded edges and precise black script of the book in Caleb hands (and what hands they were! Capable, as he knew, of both great destruction and healing. And, perhaps, from this vantage, he could also glimpse the stately sweep of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the strength of his jaw, but who was to say.).

"How are you enjoying the poetry so far?" He asked, affixing his eyes firmly to the task in front of him. He had not known whether Caleb enjoyed poetry, when he gifted it to him. He had doubted, though, that Caleb had much opportunity to avail himself of Kryn literature during his time in Rosohna, and Caleb had seemed delighted, even touched, by the gift. He did not seem to be making quick progress through the text, however.

"Very much so," Caleb replied after taking a sip of wine. "I imagine I am sometimes missing some nuance or cultural context -- Comprehend Languages is a bit of a blunt instrument -- but I am enjoying it even more than I thought I would. You almost made it sound dry in your description, when you gave it to me."

"Ah, no, not dry. Only, all young Drow are forced to read his works as part of our schooling, and it colors our enjoyment of it somewhat."

"I see."

"Do you have a favorite passage so far?"

Caleb did not respond right away. "Yes..." He admitted, at last, and added, "It is from the Courtship of Lael."

Essek nearly lost his grip on the braid as he fumbled the strands mid-crossing. He had forgotten the Courtship was so early in the text. "Oh?" He asked, hoping it came across as polite interest.

"Would you like to hear it?" Caleb's voice had a softer, deeper hue than usual.

"If you like."

There was quiet for a moment.

Caleb did not turn to the page -- he did not need to. He merely cleared his throat lightly, and began:

"My lover's skin is a field of stars. What bliss to wander among the heavens! Let me approach as a pilgrim from the dark. Let me worship on my knees before the holy light. Let no beacon go without a prayer from my lips."

Every opalescent freckle on Essek's skin was now a flame. He swallowed hard. "That--that was, ah ... evocative."

"Ja, I thought so too." Caleb chuckled.

Essek tied off the left braid and moved around to the opposite side. They passed the time in quiet, as Essek's dexterous hands, having found their rhythm, made quick work on the braid on the right. And if he had a new awareness of the freckles that made fiery constellations along the slope of Caleb's neck, he gave no indication.

"You know it is a good thing you are braiding my hair up, with us going deeper into the Genesis Ward tomorrow." Caleb said at last, as Essek gathered the braids and the loose strands left over in the back up into a neat ponytail, tying it off with Caleb's original tie. There was more than a little mischief in his voice. "I should hate for Devexian to see me for the first time in months with my hair a mess."

"You are a riot, Caleb Widogast," Essek drawled.

"I'm glad you think so."

----

Notes: Pysy paikallasi! Mitä sinä teet? - Stay still! What are you doing?

#some fluff for your Sunday evening #this was originally going to involve more reflections on Essek's childhood #but Caleb had other ideas #Caleb: I'm gonna read him my actual favorite passage from this book. Me: you don't have to. Caleb: No I'm gonna #Shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shoutout to neverlain for fixing my Finnish!#my writing tag

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the-littlest-goblin · 3 years

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ooooooooh for fic prompts, could i request: essek interacting with Frumpkin, specifically playing with him (so as to impress Caleb and earn his favor a bit), but our favorite hot boi most likely did not have pets growing up and is at a bit of a loss with what to do. (bonus: Caleb sees this and thinks it's incredibly endearing)

I think you got everything you wanted. ft. my personal 'here’s how Frumpkin can still win’ headcanon.

----

This was not how familiars were supposed to work.

Essek may not have summoned one before (he’d never really understood the use of an assistant with no opposable thumbs), but he had read enough about the spell to know that this was not how familiars were supposed to behave.

Maybe that was because Frumpkin didn’t technically count as a familiar anymore.

No one knew exactly what had happened, or why. Essek and Caleb had exchanged a number of theories on the matter, but so far the best explanation still went to Beau’s conclusion: “weird fey shit.”

After Aeor and the Somnovem, when they had all finally gotten a chance to breathe again, Caleb had done some sort of ritual to more permanently banish his familiar. Essek hadn’t gotten the full context at the time, but it had something to do with symbolic closure and moving on. The cat was already gone from the Material Plane at that point, but Caleb had wanted to remove the temptation to summon him again, and so devised a sort of reversal of the Find Familiar spell.

However, upon performing the anti-summoning ritual, the cat had appeared in the ritual circle as if Caleb had cast the spell as usual. Only instead of going to his master’s side, Frumpkin had sauntered away from Caleb with a swish of his tail and gone to sit directly at Essek’s feet.

“Hmm,” Caleb had muttered, the hint of a grin twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It looks like he has made a choice.”

Ever since, Caleb had been unable to banish Frumpkin, or communicate with him, or give him orders. He had seemingly lost his magical connection to, and mastery over, the cat—Frumpkin was no longer his familiar, as had been the intention. It was just that Frumpkin apparently liked the Material Plane better than the Feywild, and so refused to leave. And since Caleb had let him go, he chose a new wizard to keep him company. For the next several days they had spent recuperating and planning their next moves, Frumpkin stuck with Essek, never straying from his side for long.

But, crucially, he did not become Essek’s familiar, a lesson they had learned quickly enough. Essek didn’t even have Find Familiar in his spellbook. He couldn’t banish Frumpkin, he couldn’t communicate telepathically with him, and he certainly couldn’t give him orders.

So, Essek just had a pet cat now, one which happened to be fey in nature. Stranger things had happened—much, much stranger—so for Essek’s part, it had seemed easiest to just accept this development in stride. At times, he was even grateful for the cat’s presence.

But right now, he was very much not. At least familiars were obedient.

Essek winced against the sound of shattering glass—a sound which was becoming somewhat routine since taking up residence in these new, temporary lodgings with Frumpkin as his roommate.

Essek closed his eyes and took one deep breath before looking up from his notes to survey the damage. His gaze met Frumpkin’s round, amber eyes across the room, looking impossibly innocent where he sat primly on one of the tables which Essek had set up to house his research. His tail swished back and forth where it hung over the edge, acting like a flashing signal to point Essek’s attention down towards the starburst of broken glass glittering directly beneath him.

Mercifully, the beaker which Frumpkin had marked for termination had been holding a harmless and easily replaceable solvent, rather than any of the more valuable or dangerous liquids Essek had lying around in his provisional lab. His fingers curled protectively around the precious vial of liquid dunamis sitting next to him.

“Why?” He let the single syllable of the word stretch out into a long, bone-deep groan lasting several seconds. The question was aimed both at Frumpkin and at himself, and covered a variety of curiosities he had about the situation. Why did Frumpkin feel such a persistent desire to destroy Essek’s belongings? Why had he chosen to adhere himself to Essek in the first place, when he seemed to hold a deep disdain for everything Essek owned or did? Why was Essek incapable of learning the very simple lesson of locking the door to this makeshift lab? Why had he promised Caleb that he would take care of Frumpkin while the Mighty Nein dealt with the Assembly, instead of throwing the mangy beast out onto the streets of Port Dumali as soon as they had arrived at the safe house?

None of these were questions to which Essek was about to get any answers, so he tried another one.

“What do you want from me?”

Frumpkin blinked.

“You are still a fey being. You don’t need food or water, and as far as I understand, providing those two things are the pillars of caring for a pet. So, what else could you possibly need that requires my attention?”

Frumpkin flicked his ears.

Caleb had given Essek a brief overview of what to expect in terms of cat-care, but either he had chosen to leave out a lot of unsavory details, or decoupling from their arcane connection had put Frumpkin through a drastic personality change, because Essek had received no instructions about how to handle the kind of stalemate in which he currently found himself.

“You have my sincerest apologies, but unlike your previous master, I cannot read your thoughts, and your current methods of communication are lacking in clarity.”

Frumpkin’s tail began swishing faster. He broke eye contact with Essek to gaze intently at the row of jars lining the next table over. These were full of various concoctions, including some potentially dangerous acids, the results of Essek’s increasing boredom as he stayed hunkered down in his safe house day after day. He only ever went out for the duration of a Disguise Self to buy food or other necessary supplies; he was too noticeable to amble around the city for leisure, on the slim but ever-present risk that word of a strange drow in Port Dumali would reach the ears of Ikithon or his servants. Essek was under strict instructions to stay as hidden as possible until he got the all-clear from the Mighty Nein. With only the materials to continue his most basic experiments with dunamis, he was growing bored out of his mind.

Essek heaved another deep sigh before reluctantly abandoning his notes and gliding over to where Frumpkin had stationed himself. With a short wave of his hands, the spill vanished and the broken shards of glass floated gently into the trash bin. Then, Essek unceremoniously lifted the cat into his arms before he had the chance to wreak any more havoc, and deposited him outside the door.

Distraction removed, Essek made to turn around and return to his research, this time intending to lock the door to prevent further feline interruptions. But before he could do so, he made the mistake of looking into Frumpkin’s eyes again. The cat’s pupils gleamed, impossibly wide and round, and his tail was still swishing back and forth in an incomprehensible pattern, like some sort of code. A mixture of affection and guilt welled up in Essek, rooting to the spot.

Godsdammit, but he had promised Caleb he was going to take care of his cat, and that meant not ignoring Frumpkin when he was clearly trying to tell him something. Because even if Caleb no longer wanted a familiar to travel around with him, he still loved this damned cat, and also Essek was trying to be less callous and heartless in general.

He thought back to Caleb’s instructions with a fair bit of desperation, searching for some hint of what would make Frumpkin happy. All he came up with was a faint recollection, something about enjoying being scratched behind the ears.

“Is that all you want? Is that what you interrupted me for?” Fighting not to roll his eyes, Essek reached down for a pet.

As soon as he got close enough, Frumpkin lunged.

“Gah!” Essek snatched his hand back, nursing the sting of pain from Frumpkin’s bite. There was no blood; the little demons’s fangs hadn’t managed to break the skin. It could barely count as an injury, but the shock of betrayal hurt more than the scratch.

“What in the Nine Hells was that for?” Essek glared at Frumpkin, then noticed just in time that the cat was poised to strike again. This time, he only had to turn slightly to keep his hands out of harm's way, but Frumpkin wasn’t aiming for the exposed skin. There was a loose thread dangling from the hem of Essek’s sleeve, apparently caught by the previous attack. Frumpkin was intent on it. He flung himself at the thread, grabbing at it with his clumsy paws. It slipped through his grip, and he lunged again without hesitation.

Experimentally, Essek lifted his arm so the thread dangled higher off the ground. Frumpkin took the challenge to heart, leaping to grab it in his teeth before it slipped out of his grasp again, and he landed on the floor in defeat. Essek moved his arm over to one side, and Frumpkin followed with enthusiasm, this time managing to get the thread around one claw. The split second of resistance was enough to tear it from Essek’s sleeve. Frumpkin rolled over onto his back, victorious, batting his prize around in euphoric glee.

A grin spread across Essek’s face as he watched this display of simple delight.

“I suppose you were just bored, too. Was that it?”

Frumpkin responded by biting the string with a vengeance.

An idea began forming in the corner of his mind as he watched Frumpkin playing. Absentmindedly, Essek twisted his fingers and summoned a trace thread of dunamis into his hand, shaping and stretching it into a longer and longer cord of greyish, glowing energy, which he then dangled tantalizingly over Frumpkin’s head. The boring, non-magical string was immediately forgotten and discarded as Frumpkin caught sight of the dunamis toy. His whole body wiggling in excitement, he lunged at the cord again and again, pulling a genuine laugh out of Essek as he bobbed and weaved the magic around, dancing it out of Frumpkin’s grasp. He needed a break from his lab anyway, and this was shockingly entertaining.

---

“Well? How are they?” Just a hint of nerves colored Caleb’s voice, as it did every time they checked in on Essek. The fear that this time, the scry would reveal him not safe and sound on the Coast, far from the Trent’s reach, but somewhere cold and dark and threatening.

The faint glow faded from Jester’s eyes as the spell ended. Looking up at Caleb with a smile, she said, “You’re not going to believe this Caleb, it’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

Caleb grinned back at her.

#critrole #critical role #my writing #fic prompts #the pedant in me needs to point out that Essek would definitely be wearing his anti-scrying necklace but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Anonymous

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songofwizardry · 3 years

Text

after everything is done, the mighty nein stay with each other.

not all the time, of course—but they have Sending spells, and letters, and at one point Essek gets hold of an extra sending stone, but still. they stay together.

Caduceus visits them all, one by one. makes the long journey down to Nicodranas, and meets Jester and Fjord and Kingsley on the beach. he brings dried fruits from his garden. they picnic in the shade of the Wildmother's lighthouse. he finds work to do wherever he wanders—there are hundreds of people, dozens of towns, in need of a healer, or someone to help with a farm, or someone to listen to them through their grief. the Wildmother occasionally guides him, the winds urging head East, or, find this gnome in this town. usually, though, he lets his feet guide him.

Fjord and Jester make their way up, down, the Menagerie Coast. after so long in the Empire and the Dynasty, they both find they've missed the coast they grew up on. Fjord picks up new crew, sometimes—young people looking for work on the docks, older ones who give obviously-fake names and don't answer questions. he pays them fairly, and teaches them the ropes, and treats them with kindness as someone once treated him with kindness, and lets the salt water and sea-air do their work. Jester finally sees Port Damali, and Feolinn, and Port Zoon, and they are lovely, even if she still thinks Nicodranas is the best. she leaves dicks in temples and on street corners, and once or twice, she sees a green-cloaked figure admiring her work. she sends messages every day, working her way through their family—just updates, about the dragon turtle they just saw, or how Kingsley is trying his hand at painting, or about the new crew members they've picked up.

the two of them find trinkets wherever they go. it starts off as a joke, Fjord saying, oh, we should definitely buy that box of buttons for Veth, I can tell her we found Buttonbeard. but then they keep going—a book of Lucidian folk-tales for Caleb, a strange pepper plant for Caduceus, an ocean-blue set of fighters' gloves for Beau. wherever they go, they find something that reminds them of their family, and they bring it back.

an expositor's work is never done, so Beau ends up back in Rexxentrum or Zadash at least once a year, often more (and maybe she goes back more often than she strictly needs to, but nobody needs to know that). she sees the house Caleb's found, a small place, not on the academy grounds, but close enough. she stays a few nights, and watches Caleb light the stove with a snap of steady fingers, and is introduced to a loud, demanding black cat, who doesn't have Frumpkin's infinite patience for their bullshit.

the seeds Caduceus gave her serve Yasha well. she goes back to the Blooming Grove in the spring, spends time with the Clays. learns more about the earth. gets more seeds. she and Caduceus spend time together, walking the grounds, tending the plants, tilling, and they don't say much.

when Marion goes back to Nicodranas, they all visit. Jester stays for the longest time, bouncing between spending time with her mother and teaching Luc prank ideas catching up with the Brenattos, but eventually, all of the Nein end up there. they take over several rooms of the Chateau, and stay up far too late (and let Luc stay up far too late with them), swapping stories and sharing drinks: Is Vandran re-reading Tusk Love again? You need to introduce him to more literature! and Wait, so when you say you and Essek were stuck in a snowstorm without the tower, that to-tally means you had to cuddle for warmth, right? and Did you actually just... walk to Uthodurn, Caduceus?

they don't let Essek disappear for long. sure, he does eventually drop off the face of Exandria, researching this or that, at one point sneaking back into the Dynasty to see his brother, but he always shows up again. Jester sends him messages. he and Caleb keep up a continuous stream of letters, eventually finding magical means to get them to each other faster. and with Teleportation spells, he's always visiting—a week in Rexxentrum, heavily disguised; almost a month with Caduceus, using his rose-patterned gardening gloves; a brief stint in Nicodranas, helping out at the Brenatto Alchemists. (a few years after Aeor, he spends more time in Rexxentrum. stays a month. then two. then six. then a year. eventually, he and Caleb get a second cat. and he cannot stay forever, but he still stays.)

for the first time in his life, Caleb has time. and so he takes it. slowly, he walks the streets of Rexxentrum, learning to love it again (he's not sure if he ever really stopped loving it). he works, slowly, with Beauregard—it might take their whole lives to dismantle the mess of power and abuse that the Assembly is; it will probably take even longer. but he keeps at it anyway. he goes back and forth between the Academy and the Soul; when Beau combs through questionable documents, Caleb asks questions; when the mages of the Academy and Assembly hold meetings, Caleb goes to them and keeps his eyes on the Martinet.

he starts teaching. he's not sure about it, at first—the Academy hurt, not just him, but so many others. but with Trent gone, he thinks—there can be a change. and he wants to feel the joy of new magic again, to watch new eyes come alight with it, he wants to show people how it can be used to help, and heal, and love, instead of hurt. so he starts teaching. it's joyous, and energising, and exhausting, and he watches his students – his students – all the while, for the slightest hint that they are being hurt, or forced, or coerced, or trained into something they don't want to be. he watches them grow, and learn. he pushes the envelope of treason, just a bit, talks of magic and wonder beyond the empire and its structures. and with every group, he teaches them the spell find familiar.

the Brenattos open up a new apothecary in Nicodranas. it's bigger, and brighter, and busier than the one in Felderwin—they get more herbs and more customers here, and with both Yeza and Veth in the lab, they're soon coming up with new concoctions, experimenting together. when Veth gets the itch in her bones (and she does, numerous times), she tracks down one of the nein, and wanders with them for a bit—visiting Rumblecusp with Beau and Yasha, a trip investigating Halas' halls with Caleb, a few weeks on the Lucidian ocean. she never stays long, and she always comes home. she hasn't broken that promise yet.

Luc grows up on the coast, and learns to swim. sometimes, she joins him.

when they get a house, she and Yeza – by unspoken agreement – find a place with two extra rooms, a sitting room large enough for several people to fit on the floor, and a garden. Yeza's food is almost as good as Caduceus', so it's no surprised that the nein come and visit, often. Yasha helps them grow beds of flowers in the garden. Jester and Fjord bring all manner of strange mementoes from the oceans. when the academy is closed, Caleb stays for months on end, helping her teach the teenagers of Nicodranas basic cantrips and how to pick locks during the day (we are unleashing a menace, he warns her, but he's smiling), and reading to Luc in the evenings.

they gather, together, in her house, too. sometimes for a special occasion (she and Yeza renew their vows in the garden), but often, for no reason at all. just to be together. there is space for all nine of them—she made sure of that. they talk, and laugh, and fall asleep in a chaotic pile in the Brenatto's living room.

in a few days, they will embrace, and separate, and head back to whatever they've been doing. but they will come back together, eventually.

after everything, the mighty nein stay together.

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grayintogreen · 3 years

Text

Critical Role Fanfic Masterpost September 1st-September 30th

My goal this month was 80,000 words and I came in at 92,403 according to my wordtracker, so, um, take that as you will. A lot of it did not go into what you’ll find on this list. Baby girl I’ve got WIP for days.

The flashfic are too short to get proper summaries so they’re listed by their prompts. Also lots of Circus Kids since Circus Kids week sure happened and was GREAT.

SHIPPING FIC

CALEB/MOLLY

my story is not done. (981 words) for the prompt “dancing with each other.”

they just might heal if i can see the light. (words). Caleb tends to a post-resurrection Molly.

CREE/LUCIEN

and pledged you my life without even a word. (499 words) Cree heals Lucien. That’s it. Everything is sad. (Canon Compliant)

a hymn to all we’re not. (1542 words) Cree is well aware of what sort of tragedy she’s living- she just doesn’t care. (Canon Compliant)

all my blood wants to drink your wicked ways. (3587 words) EXPLICIT. Cree and Lucien work off some tension after a fight. (mind the tags.)

CALEB/LUCIEN

and saw all his secrets revealed. (946 words) Caleb vs Lucien’s mane of luscious hair. (aka more hair braiding) (canon compliant if you pretend the Neintakers roadtrip lasted longer)

follow the white hare like you’re on a tether. (504 words) earthquake weather AU. Now with more trust falls and handholding. And also darkness.

the king lies bleeding on the floor. (676 words) also earthquake weather AU. The one where Caleb bridal-carries a fucked up Lucien.

we’ve had quite enough of that. (707 words) ALSO earthquake weather AU (I LIKE THAT AU OKAY). Lucien grabs Caleb’s hand to get his attention during a PTSD episode.

do you follow it because it’s true or just because you must. (1924 words) earthquake weather AU (again). Lucien has a bad reaction to Grim Psychometry culminating into Deep Talk.

OTHER SHIPS

maybe it’s crazy (but baby love usually is). (548 words) Fjord/Jester, “picking them up hugs.” (Canon Compliant)

there’s just one choice and that’s been made. (1059 words) Caleb/Veth, cuddling and entwining fingers.

every sailor’s just a searcher. (591 words) Caleb/Kingsley, “happily doing everything with one hand just so they don’t have to stop holding hands” and “kissing each finger.”

GENFIC

i have learned my lessons in my way (591 words) Jester and Essek, holding the others’ hand so they won’t fall. (Canon Compliant)

laughter like a broken heart. (1052 words) Threeleaf AU, tickling each other.

fanning flames and saying this is not the end of days. (723 words) Empire siblings, bandaging the other’s hands and not quite letting go. (Canon Compliant)

the spectre of an innocent who never can explain. (1078 words) Lucien deals with de-aging shenanigans in Aeor. Because bullying him is fun.

few and far are happy endings found where ocean meets the sky. (1060 words) Fjord and Yasha spar and discuss their love lives. (Canon Compliant, background Fjorester and Beauyasha)

when you choose to join the revels. (722 words) Jester and Molly, holding hands and swinging them back and forth like children. (Canon Compliant)

like we’re looking for redemption. (1235 words) Caleb and Yasha, a haircut. (Canon Compliant, background Beauyasha)

i’m not really sure if this tale has a moral. (1053 words) Yasha spends some quiet, soft time with Molly post-resurrection.

they say on the midway- a penny a toss. (1076 words) Molly ropes Yasha into helping him run a carnival game. (Canon Compliant)

wildflowers in autumn, a bonfire in spring. (1901 words) These are your circus kids on seasonal holidays. (Canon Compliant)

i will go on spinning mischief until the moon is out. (1562 words) Molly gives Yasha a card reading. (Canon Compliant)

ghostlight eyes and crossroad blues. (2616 words) Tombtaker Yasha AU wherein she’s the first person a certain empty tiefling meets outside of the grave.

the fallen star of the midnight roads. (2593 words) Yasha runs away from the circus for the first time. Molly doesn’t take it well. (Canon Compliant)

every aching empty hour has led us home to this. (2381 words) Yasha meets a colorful stranger on the road and he changes her life for the better.

a better man (a better monster) (1865 words) It’s best if you don’t fuck with any member of the Nein if you don’t want the rest coming after you. (Canon Compliant)

we take our turns on the altar. (1338 words) Cree and Caduceus talking about faith during a cave collapse.

every dream i dream is founded in what came before. (2728 words) Lucien has an epiphany during a religious service in the Claret Orders. Aka “care and feeding of your burgeoning god complex.”

love is rarely formal and it’s the thing that sets you free. (4025 words) Lucien gets some unpleasant cold-like symptoms from dragon frost breath. Jester inflicts herself on him.

#critical role fic #critical role fanfic #beauyasha #widomauk #lucigast #creecien #circus kids #empire siblings #widobrave #widoking #mollymauk tealeaf #lucien the nonagon #caleb widogast #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #fjorester #fanfic masterlist

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iatethepomegranate · 3 years

Text

For now, they had this

So Shadowgast has finally made me write fanfic again. I started this a few hours after the finale, and then woke up to find Twitter confirmation for my reading of their epilogue. So here’s 2k of soft wizards confirming for each other what they already knew, in their quiet way. I’m playing with the timeline ordering of things, so my interpretation is not necessarily the Canon interpretation of how things went between them.

Demisexual Essek is addressed here, without saying it explicitly. I tried. Massive spoilers for the finale, obviously.

____

For now, they had this

As much as Caleb trusted Essek to handle himself, he had to admit he was nervous about leaving him behind in Aeor. But the longer they spent together, the greater the weight of things unsaid, and Caleb had to take care of something first.

He had to go home. Blumenthal.

So he did. Found his parents’ resting place. Buried his letters to them. Grieved.

He didn’t go back to Aeor right away, the weight of the Sending stone Essek had foisted on him heavy in his pocket. Essek didn’t need it; he could Send without expending too much of his reserves. Essek hadn’t said anything, but Caleb was keenly aware this stone was solely for his benefit.

Caleb lingered close to Blumenthal for a time, feeling the finality wash over him. He could sometimes feel the phantom weight of the letters as if they still hung from his book holster. It would take time for him to get used to not carrying them around anymore. Just like he had carried the weight of what he had done for so long. And likely always would. But he was more at peace with that now. He had a mission to prevent this from ever happening again. There were things he had done about it, and things he would continue to do for as long as he lived. Fixing his home would be a lifelong mission, but he was finally ready to handle it.

Essek left him alone for a few days, until he must have grown anxious. Well, more anxious than usual. Essek, Caleb had learned, was an anxious person.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice appeared in Caleb’s head. Soft, but concerned. “I apologise for the intrusion. Are you all right?” The barest pause. “I am safe up here, but… I am concerned. But no rush. Please.”

“I’m all right,” Caleb replied before the spell could decay, losing the thread of the dome ritual he had begun to cast moments ago. “I will return tomorrow. Stay safe. And thank you.”

Jester would be appalled that he didn’t use all his words, but Caleb was… wrung out. Catharsis was, by its nature, exhausting. His response must have satisfied Essek, who did not Send again.

Caleb began to cast the dome once more, blending the exterior with the greens and browns of the woods, but transparent inside so he could fall asleep under the stars of his childhood one last time.

***

Caleb risked the teleport directly into Aeor the following morning, grasping the paper from the records room firmly in his hand. He mercifully landed exactly where he had intended, breathing the dusty air. His ribs expanded more freely than they had in years.

Essek floated cross-legged just above the floor in the corner, looking up from the pages of a ledger in his hands. He watched silently for a second, as he usually did while waiting for a wild magic surge in this place. When none materialised, he gave Caleb a soft smile.

“Welcome back. Come. I am sure you will find this interesting.”

Essek rarely pushed Caleb to talk when he wasn’t ready; he was grateful, especially now. They sat together on the floor for a time, smudges of salt and soot on their fingers as they dug deeper into the records of Aeor. Stacks of books, long-hidden information, and Essek’s steady, quiet company. Caleb had needed this.

It was only when Caleb threw off his coat to more comfortably crawl among the books, collecting fragments of a damaged volume that had fallen apart at the spine, that Essek said anything unrelated to the work.

“Uh, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Your other book…”

Caleb followed Essek’s gaze to the empty side of his holster. “Ah.” He sat back, depositing the rescued fragments on the floor in front of him. “It was… time to let go.”

Essek watched him quietly, but did not press. But, mere weeks earlier, he had listened to Caleb lay out all his plans to save his parents. He had even offered to help him. And had been visibly relieved when Caleb instead destroyed the time travel device and all the notes that could have been used to replicate it. He knew enough to understand.

So Caleb explained. The letters he had written. His plans to give them to his mother and father after he had saved them. But he had to let go.

“So, I…” Caleb had to take a moment, the tears threatening to overtake him.

Essek silently looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, tucking Caleb into the hollow of his throat. Caleb breathed him in, and remained there.

“I teleported the book into the earth between their graves,” he murmured. “It's the closest I can… it’s with them now. Best I can manage.” Talking hurt too much, so he stopped.

“Caleb,” Essek said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Caleb let himself cry.

***

Essek was always gentle with him, but even more so in the following days. Passing of materials gave rise to held hands, lingering touches, lingering stares. Slowly, Caleb began to feel better. As much as he believed he could, at least for now. It was better than he had felt in a long time. With time, perhaps, the wounds would ache less. Never perfect, but better.

Having disturbed an absorber of an evening, the resulting scuffle left Caleb too tired to summon the tower. He instead set to conjuring the dome while Essek kept watch. They were a little far to retreat to the records room, but they had managed to barricade an entranceway with damaged furniture despite their pitiful strength. Essek, of course, had demonstrated he was more than capable of surprising everyone, including himself, in moments of great duress. Fortunately, Caleb had not gotten himself trapped under a tower this time.

So, Essek hovered close to Caleb during the ritual, keeping an eye on the door they had barricaded. He was tense, but Caleb had to get this dome up before he could address it. There was also a gash on his forearm that would need dressing… but later. Focus.

The dome popped into existence. Caleb put his spellbook away, feeling his shoulder protest. He would need Essek’s help checking the damage.

Essek ducked into the dome, sighing. “Let us not repeat the events of today.”

Caleb produced a set of clean bandages, a cloth and a waterskin. “Agreed.” He grabbed Essek’s arm and dabbed the dampened cloth against the cut. Essek hissed in pain, but didn’t flinch. He hadn’t in a while. Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a sign Essek was getting hurt far too much, or a sign of trust. Both, perhaps. Caleb bandaged the wound, and held Essek’s arm for a moment longer. He was okay. The fight had been tiring, but they had both come out of it. A cut on the arm was nothing in the scheme of things.

Essek extricated his arm from Caleb’s grip, and pushed Caleb’s coat off his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Caleb hadn’t spoken of the pain, but he also hadn’t tried to hide it. Essek carefully loosened the book holsters--a research journal, for the moment, filled the spot once occupied by the letters--and set them aside. He then ran his fingers gently across the front laces of Caleb’s shirt, until Caleb nodded his consent.

Essek gently tugged the shirt loose until he could pull one side off the sore shoulder. He frowned; Caleb couldn’t see the cause. Essek prestidigitated the washcloth clean and wet it, carefully draping it across Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closed his eyes as the cool sensation took the edge off the pain. He heard a soft mumble, and sensed movement akin to the somatic components of a basic evocation cantrip. The cloth grew colder.

Essek placed his hand over the cloth, squeezing gently. “I think you pulled something. I will continue to ice it tonight.”

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“Rest.” Lips on his forehead. “I will keep watch.”

Caleb opened his eyes. Essek was kneeling at his side, not floating. Too tired, perhaps. But his eyes were sharp, trained on the barricaded doorway.

“Essek.”

“Yes?” Eyes still focused outward.

“Relax a moment. This has been a hard day for both of us.”

Essek let out a long breath, turning his gaze towards Caleb. “I apologise. I… have a hard time seeing you hurt.”

Caleb’s keen mind kindly conjured for him all the times Essek had seen him hurt much worse than this, but he held his tongue. Frequency did not make these things easier. Least of all for Essek, who had been alive for over a century but had only been genuinely close to a small number of people. Caring was hard. Worth it, but hard.

“I know,” Caleb said. “The very nature of caring for someone… witnessing their suffering… it hurts.”

Essek frowned at the floor, but then lifted his gaze to Caleb. “I worried while you were away.”

“I know. And thank you.” Caleb pulled Essek in with his good arm, laying his head on his shoulder. He felt, not for the first time, the urge to talk about this thing between them. But, as he had felt many times before, now was not the time.

Caleb and Essek were not the kind of people to blurt out complicated feelings in a moment of distress or exhaustion. So he closed his eyes and rested against Essek instead. They were what they were to each other, and Caleb was confident this would not disappear overnight. Putting that into words could wait a little longer.

***

The next day was quiet, spent examining record books rescued from the rampage of yesterday’s absorber. Caleb and Essek needed a quieter day, and the slower pace was welcome. They rarely spoke while in the throes of research, always keenly aware of each other, passing paper and writing implements back and forth, smudging soot and salt against each other’s skin as their touches lingered.

It was everything Caleb had ever wanted.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and roll his aching shoulder, his eyes were drawn to Essek’s form in the corner. So engrossed in his reading and note-taking, he had stopped floating about an hour ago. Hunched on the hard, warped floor of this broken city, eyes intense as he scribbled feverishly. He was running low on ink again.

Caleb chuckled softly and crawled closer, gently nudging another inkwell into Essek’s reach. Essek paused in his scribbles, a small smile softening his features. He reached out, eyes retracing the notes he had just written, but instead of taking the ink, he caught Caleb’s fingers and laced them with his own.

Caleb had figured out he was in love with Essek long ago, but in this moment, those feelings swelled until he thought he would burst into tears. He squeezed Essek’s hand. Essek squeezed back.

And the words finally found their way from Caleb’s heart, and out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Essek tore his eyes from the papers, softening as he met Caleb’s gaze. “I love you, too, Caleb.”

Of course, the curse of a mind as keen as Caleb’s was the ability to have too many thoughts at once. He loved Essek. Essek loved him (Caleb had already known that, but it was beautiful to hear out loud). Caleb was human. Essek was an elf. Caleb probably had sixty years left to live, if he was lucky. Essek would likely live another six hundred or more, if he was careful. Essek was on the run from the Dynasty. Caleb had to return home, at least periodically, to root out corruption and make it the place he had once believed it to be. So many factors. So many barriers.

He wanted what time he could have with Essek, but it would be cruel to entangle him when Caleb’s lifespan was barely a speck of dust in the winds of time, when there were so many things they would have to do apart even before Caleb would succumb to his mortality. Caleb had hurt the people he loved too much already.

Essek’s free hand slid up Caleb’s neck and into his hair, cradling the base of his skull. “Your eyes are sad again, my love.”

“This will hurt you,” Caleb said, “in the end.”

“I know.” And it was Essek who pressed their foreheads together this time. “I will cherish the time we have together, and whatever comes after that. It is… rare for me to feel this way about anyone. I will not give you up so easily, even if I know it will end. I am who I am today because of you, and I will carry you with me long after you are gone.”

Caleb had tried to keep people at arm’s-length before, just as Essek had. But he felt emotions deeply, especially love, and it went against his nature to deny the love he felt. And Essek was the love of his life. It would hurt in the end, but they still had time. Decades, if they were lucky.

Essek and Caleb knew a thing or two about pulling luck in their favour.

The moment stretched beyond words. Caleb reached up to kiss Essek’s forehead. They were both reserved people, not given to grand gestures. It was not necessary. Their love bled into everything they did together, in dressing each other’s wounds, in defending each other in battle, and in their quiet moments--the shared silences, the passing of research materials, the touch of soot-stained fingers.

They were what they were to each other, in the time they had together. The joy would one day turn to sorrow, but, for now, they had this.

#cr spoilers #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #fanfiction #my fics #i wrote most of this at like midnight so it may be somewhat incoherent but I had a lot of feelings and no idea what to do with them #started making it had a breakdown bon appetit

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

Would an individual ask about Caleb ending up with the reader instead of Essek at the end of campaign be alright? I love the wizard bois together, but I'm crushing baaaad on Caleb hehe. Maybe they teach and live happily ever after together, very domestic living after all the adventures they've had :3

Hoping to satisfy your Caleb crush. How's this for some domestic fluff? Enjoy! 😘

The first rays of sunlight are blocked by thick heavy curtains. Awake or asleep, Caleb’s sense of time never fails him. He wakes up bright and early on the minute precise but makes no move to truly start his day. How could he with the sight he wakes to? There you lay, in his arms, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Never did he think he’d see you so relaxed, or allow yourself to be so relaxed. Sure your lives are not free of stress or the occasional disaster and rarely are your livelihoods in peril these days but compared to months ago that doesn’t even come close to the dangers you’ve faced together; dangers that the majority of the people will never know about. A moment of peace and quiet was just another luxury you and him couldn’t truly afford no matter how much you may have pretended. But now you finally know peace.

Caleb watches your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and watches just a moment longer carefully trailing his fingers up from their place on your waist to your cheek, caressing it fondly as you sleep. He reminisces when and where your lives intertwined in that tavern in Trostenwald and the events leading you both here together in your shared apartment in Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy as respectable teachers of the arts you both love.

When you first met Caleb feared you. He feared you more than anything for you just like him had ties to the Cerberus Assembly but you did not suffer the same fate he had. Luckily your studies were of no interest of his former master and you were instead claimed by another sent out into the world to learn more and find your own way. He was so scared you might lead the Assembly to his nonexistent doorstep and at one point entertained the thought you were a spy sent to bring him back but you proved the opposite. When he revealed his story and you told him you would help him or die trying beside him he brushed you off. Persistent as you are you gave him the wakeup call of a lifetime saying that you’re not doing this just for him but everyone before him, everyone after him.

To Caleb you will always represent all that is good and pure in this world despite the horrors that may have shaped you, changed you for better or worse. He will always consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world to have you at his side as his confidant, moral compass, study-mate, intellectual equal, bailout, friend, partner, but most of all; his lover for he could not want for anyone else in the world. No one could ever replace you and no one can compare to you. You may tell him you’re not the most intelligent, quick-witted, charming or interesting individual in the world but to him you are and he will argue with you on that until you grow tired of him and are forced to accept. He certainly does not mind the fluster of your cheeks and kiss you offer to shut him up.

And now you lie asleep cuddled up against him, limbs intertwined, the sunset orange covers slipping from your shoulder. Caleb hears the birds begin their song signalling he must leave the warm comforts of your embrace so carefully he begins to untangle his legs from yours, his arm from underneath your head replacing it by quickly pulling the pillow above down. He begins to untangle your grasp on his shirt slowly removing your fingers one by one. A deep intake of breath on your end and adjustment of your legs below the covers has him worried he’s woken you up.

Caleb knows fully well you have your own ways of waking up on time and you would have asked him the night before if he ought to wake you, so since you’re not already awake he’ll give you every extra minute of sleep you can get. You deserve it so he’ll curse himself if he’s the one to ruin it. Once you have adjusted and he’s sure you’re still sleeping he continues and removes himself from the warm comforts you’re huddled up among longing for nothing more than to share them a minute longer and gathers his things. In putting his lesson plans, notes and a few books to pass the time for the day he bends down to allow the orange tabby to jump into his arms and sets the cat onto the table taking a moment to stroke its fur and give some chin scratches leaving the little beastie purring.

Ridding himself of his night clothes Caleb puts on his shirt, and trousers tucking the shirt into the waistband and moves on to his footwear as per his usual routine. He takes the vest set out for him and is about to button it up when he feels eyes on him. His first thoughts go to the cat but that one’s not the guilty audience so instead his eyes fall to you, propped up against the headboard watching him.

“Well don’t stop on my accord. Though, I prefer the clothes back on the chair.” Your voice is still riddled with sleep but you’re awake enough for your comments so Caleb feels justified to give you a disapproving scowl though he cannot prevent the smile from creeping up his lips.

“Good morning to you too.” Caleb smiles as you cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You pull yourself out of the bed and stumble over to Caleb until you’re toe to toe placing a hand on his cheek guiding him into a kiss. Your lips move against his and his arms wrap around you to return and welcome your efforts openly. Though, enough’s enough and Caleb breaks the kiss giving you one final peck in an attempt to kiss away the onset disappointment and pout on your end.

“No matter how much I’d like to continue, Astrid will have both of our heads we show up late.” Caleb runs his fingers through your hair kissing your cheek as you cross your arms. Is there nothing you can do to convince him to stay? He might be right about Astrid…

“Well, I do not have any classes until second period but if you’re so adamant to stay with me I can send the archmage a message to tell her you’re regretful to be missing your first class of the day and to find a substitute.” You’re joking. Not really. A joke hiding the actual offer. Caleb considers it for a brief moment purely to entertain the thought but he knows very well he shouldn’t.

“You know we can’t but how about I make it up to you with dinner and dancing and a night in? Just the two of us.” Caleb cups your cheeks stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gesture he knows very well makes you melt.

“That sounds like an agreeable offer, professor Widogast.” Your acceptance brings another bright smile to his face and he pulls you into another chaste kiss to seal the deal. This time you’re the one to pull away.

“Best get you ready for the day then, lest you be late.” Your nimble fingers stroke down the front of his chest finding the buttons of his vest and one by one buttoning them up. Once you’re done you take a few steps back looking him over.

“Do I pass your inspection, professor?” Caleb laughs half the mind to do a little spin for you but he refrains instead lifting the cat from the table into his arms.

“With flying colours. I think his highness is inclined to agree.” You watch as the cat meows making himself comfortable in your wizard’s arms without any intent to go anywhere but alas, all good things come to an end be it for the cat or you. With some protests Caleb puts the cat back on the ground allowing the creature to skitter off to gods know where.

You pull open the curtains allowing the light of dawn to fill the room. Caleb already regrets the decision of not taking you up on your offer to call in late and miss his first class as you look absolutely radiant but he feels certain both of you will be missing second and possibly even third period if he does, so he must refrain. Tonight will make up for it. He’s already got the perfect place in mind for dinner.

You catch Caleb staring, his gaze following you as you pull at the heavy fabric until the outside world is revealed to you. You put a little sway in your step before you gather your own clothes for the day and change in your usual attire, slowly. Deliberately slow. If he’s already staring you better not waste your opportunity and make a show of it.

“No use in staying in bed all alone. His Highness makes for good company but he’s a dull conversationalist. Perhaps I’ll drop by Beau at the Archives?” You deliberate your events for the morning tapping your chin.

“If you do, tell the Expositor I have some more files for her to study.” Caleb, finally pulled out of his trance steps back over to you, or rather besides you to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. You know he’s about to be off so you wrap your arm around his waist as you guide him to the door. Not much you can change about the need for students to be taught the wonders of transmutation magic. While you may find times you’d want to spend more time together, in the end neither of you would ever want to give up teaching. There’s plenty of other times you can spend together happily. Or you can justify combining your classes for one reason or another as you love nothing more than to share your passions.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the Academy?” Caleb watches as you fall silent for a moment, your focus drawn away.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows. We’ll be there. Thank you.” You speak but Caleb knows fully well it’s not directed at him. This has become a habit he’s very much gotten used to so he simply awaits for you to share the message.

“Astrid wants us for lunch. She threatened to limit your access to the library if you’re late.” Of course she does, Caleb thinks to himself. So the archmage may or may not have heard about his almost-arrest of the day before. He’d already gotten an earful from you.

“Of course she does. There go our lunch plans for our free period.”

“You’re the one to get arrested for- and I quote ‘encourage insurgence among young impressionable souls’.” You grin. Okay, you may have been a little proud of Caleb actively trying to do better but you could do without the accusations of treason. You’d rather not have Caleb spend the night in jail because word got out or he pissed off the wrong person. You’d expect this from Beauregard but had hoped Caleb would be more careful about it and so apparently thought Astrid. He’s in for a scolding according to her tone.

“Merely teaching young impressionable souls how to be better. Is that a crime?” You grab Caleb’s coat and help him into it as he offers you a ‘thank you’.

“According to the king, yes it is.” The amusement in your voice is enough to earn you a playful glare. You open the door for Caleb and he steps halfway out offering you one final kiss.

“Love you.” Caleb pecks your lips. You’ve drawn out the length of the kiss long enough and he’s already on the verge of running late now so no matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go.

“Love you too, Caleb. See you soon and for the love of the arcane arts; stay out of trouble.” You know he won’t make that promise as he can’t keep it but you still tell him to every time. You kiss his cheek stepping back and watching the wizard leave as you close the door. Nothing but a usual morning; sneaking out of bed, cats, kisses, a message from your friend the archmage, talks of treason and the love of two fate-entwined mages trying to make the world a better place.

#critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader #critical role #mighty nein

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omniscientwreck · 3 years

Text

With Every Single Thing I Have

Beginning note: ***MAJOR SPOILERS FOR C2 E141***

CW: Character Death, Talk of Death

This is my interpretation of the canon description of Essek and Caleb’s days with some good angst thrown right in there. I have no knowledge of what is or isn’t cannon about the afterlife in Critical Role so this may be canon divergent but I needed it to cope. I hope you enjoy! Title Is Taken From The Song Two by Sleeping At Last

Caleb Widogast is dying.

He’s old, nearly 90 years of age. His body aches with every rain, stairs become more difficult, but his casting never fades. His mind is sharp and he reads, learns, and teaches until the end comes for him. Up in his tower, exhausted and bed-ridden he hears shuffling outside the door before it opens without so much as a touch and a tray of food is brought in. Essek Thelyss glides gently into the room, “Oh good, you’re awake. I prepared a light lunch for you, would you eat?”

Nodding back at the drow, the bittersweet smile that’s become a companion to him in Essek’s presence settling again into his wrinkled features. Essek sits on the bed beside him, book in hand as he often does and the memories written all over Caleb’s face come flooding back.

They had gone back to Aeor after the business in Rexxentrum concluded. Jester had helped Caleb locate Essek and when he found out he wasn’t too late, he was still at the outpost, he’d gone almost immediately. The winter clothes they’d bought all those months ago to chase their lost friend still fit and they carried many memories in them with the promise of more to come.

Their time together in Aeor was long. They took many months scouring the ruins for every book they could find. Between his Vault of Amber and Essek’s Wristpocket as well as a borrowed bag of holding they were able to collect the knowledge of Aeor. They found every device, every tiny dunamantic stone. They went back to the machine, the one that promised Caleb his dreams, closure, a chance to atone. The one that could change Essek’s past, that would give him his freedom.

Essek gazed upon the machine and he decided to remain in hiding. He looked directly at Caleb, made the decision to live forever with the consequences of his actions, because without them they wouldn’t have this. This moment, this trip, these memories.

It is Caleb’s turn now to gaze upon his destiny. He looks into the lavender eyes boring into him with the question Will you do it? His plan is perfect, the only thing that changes is that his parents are not dead and one day maybe he can reunite with them. He can see them grown old, he can tell them everything he’s done. They can be proud of him.

His mind shifts to the Nein, to Veth, Jester. To Astrid and Eodwulf. Back to Essek. It’s impossible to know what would happen if he did this. If he’d be able to come back. Is it really worth giving up everything he knows? Potentially giving up the Mighty Nein not only for himself but for them too?

He reaches into his components bag, smears dust across his forearm and with a green ray he carves away the experiment. He destroys, permanently, any hope of ever going back, in favour of hope for the future. Essek helps him burn everything and when they’re done he can only stare at the drow. The man who’s come so far, allowed himself to be so changed by the love of friends (Caleb’s love) that he went from enemy to beloved companion. He stares and divergent futures flash before his eyes as if he’s staring deep into the Luxon. They all end the same, he dies and Essek lives on without him for many years. The change is in the times in between now and then.

He knows which one he want and if the last two months were any indication Essek had his own hopes.

A week or so later, they ate in the tower. When the Nein first separated the tower had felt empty, he usually elected to sleep in a hotel room or in the dome under the stars. With Essek it’s easier to be there. They’ve fallen into a comfortable routine while researching that involves them spending the day immersed in ancient secrets forgotten to time. They would spend hours in complete silence, reading in tandem or copying runes and arcane patterns and then one of them would find something truly tantalizing and the silence would be broken as they began theorizing. When Essek gets excited his lavender eyes brighten and his whole face lifts and it’s no secret to Caleb that his heart races and his face melts into a soft, tender expression that Essek catches and matches.

After, they’ll go into the tower and eat, served warm soups and breads by little fey cats and then they read in the study in companionable silence until they retire to separate rooms. This night, a week before their time was up, Caleb’s keen mind caught up with him. Suddenly he became very aware of the passage of time, the potential futures slipping away and he rests his spoon on the table, overwhelmed by the shrinking timeline ahead.

They talk that night, instead of reading. They sit in two armchairs in a quiet carpeted room lit by purple globules of light, gently bobbing around their heads and they talk. They talk for hours. Essek tells Caleb his sins and Caleb elaborates on his own. They talk plainly and it’s hard to do, but at some point the chairs moved closer, and then their hands touched, eventually Essek’s hands were folded into Caleb’s.

He felt closer to Essek after that. For the rest of the week it was easier to reach out and grasp his hand, to pull him into a hug. Two weeks later, they talked again and after that they kissed. Their kisses weren’t frequent but they were familiar, a warm comfort over those last weeks in Aeor.

Theirs was not a whirlwind romance. It was something more precious and much more difficult to describe. It burned slow and and steadily rose until something had to be done. They kept in close contact after Aeor, it is those letters that begin the new collection that fills Caleb’s left holster.

They visit occasionally until the burn of the eyes of the Dynasty on Essek’s back became too hot. Caleb has taken to staying in Nicodranas when he and Beauregard are taking a break from dismantling centuries old systems to weed out the rot so he asks Essek to come stay with him. Quietly, out of the eyes of the empire and most of their friends, they begin to build a life. They construct with care, laying a sturdy foundation because though they both know this arrangement is temporary they promise to always be together in one way or another; because though gravity can be altered, it always rights itself and the pull Caleb feels towards Essek, has felt for some time, is a law of his nature.

They allow themselves as long as the other will have them and they spend years together. The kisses become more frequent as they gradually abandon inhibitions. Caleb’s life is a blink compared to Essek and he becomes more aware each year of the limited time he has. He and Essek stay together in varying locations for as long as he can bear it, he realizes now that they have earned this happiness, however fleeting. It will always be a larger portion of his life than it will be of Essek’s so he holds out as long as he can. He begins to teach in this time and though Essek cannot really be free he still has his work studying their findings and occasionally he travels.

Caleb watches him advance so much in their decade together and he gets bleary eyed imagining all Essek will do when he’s gone. They learn together, share every meal, he learns Undercommon and teaches Zemnian, and they spend every possible night together in every possible way. They share a sweet and intense passion and Caleb’s love sinks deeper and deeper into his heart.

When his forehead wrinkles and his hair is greying he realizes his time is up. He has goals, he needs to teach, he needs to fully commit to being in the Empire and his short life must be spent doing as he promised all those years ago, making each place better than he found it. That is the hardest conversation he’s ever had. “I wish it were not this way. That it didn’t have to be, but I do not have as much time as you so I must burn brightly to make my impact. I will always love you Essek Thelyss.”

“And I you Caleb Widogast. When you stumbled into my life all those years ago, Empire infiltrator holding my greatest crime in your hand I had no idea what would happen. You were a variable I did not account for, could never have foreseen. Of all the possible futures in store for me this one, where I am here with you, where I have been here with you for ten years and where I will continue to be by your side thought it is not the same is the best one I could have never predicted.”

They give themselves one last year. They don’t travel, Caleb takes the year off and they spend 328 days exactly together, in bliss. They do their best not to allow the apprehension of good-bye to creep in. Caleb knows it’s not good-bye, not truly and not forever. But when the day comes though he tries to hold it back he cries bitter tears and holds Essek tight and the smaller man shakes with his own sobs. But they loved each other for eleven years, and they manage to continue loving each other for another fourty or so.

Essek leaves and travels for a while to do his own work. This is frequent in the latter half of Caleb’s life but every time he comes back and his friend brings him stories and listens to all of his own. They help each other research, Caleb still tells him everything and relishes every moment they spend together. They no longer kiss but they are still partners.

Caleb’s life has been better, more fulfilling than he could ever have hoped stumbling out of that wretched prison at the beginning of his second life. He learned peace through the Nein and later through Essek and now that he’s at the end of his time he knows he could not have lived a better life.

Caleb Widogast is old, older than he ever thought he’d be and while his bones and muscles give out and he goes to the Blooming Grove where Caduceus has always said he will end up, to spend his final months, Essek follows.

He cooks the soups the cats used to, they remember everything together, Caleb’s mind keen but Essek has kept up well. At just the right time, Caleb knows. Essek is sat beside him in the bed, the wizards reading in tandem as they’ve done before and fallen into again in this late stage. They have been kissing again, Caleb allowing this last indulgence, one last selfish act. Essek needs it too.

“Essek Thelyss, thank you for everything you’ve done for me. My constant companion, the center of my gravity. You who bent time and space for me and taught me so many things from magic to forgiveness. I have loved you all my life from the moment I could and I would never dream to change a single thing.”

“Caleb Widogast. I have treasured every moment we have spent together, you changed my life, saved a man who knew not that he was dying. I have been happy because I know you and I will continue to be happy because you will never be far from my heart.”

“Please promise to me that you will take care of the others. Allow them to care for you. Find new people and care for them and allow yourself to be cared for in return, live your life as fully as you are able, and when you are done I will see you again just as I am about to see my family.”

“I will. You have loved me all of your life and I will love you for all of mine. I will never know someone like you again. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of your companionship. It is an honor to love you and it always will be.”

The quiet conversation fades and they share one final kiss and Essek sits as Caleb drifts to sleep, gently running his fingers through his hair. Then he goes to get Caduceus. Caleb Widogast is dead.

---------------------------------

Essek Thelyss is dying.

He is nearly 740 years old and he is in decline. He, like his friends before him, retires to the Blooming Grove to live out his remaining days, however many they might be. Caduceus’ kin are caring and when he shows up on their doorstep they expect him. “He told us you would arrive one day. Welcome home and thank you for being here.”

Essek’s life has been a thing of remarkable chance, nearly improbable. He has learned to manipulate as much as he can but even he could not have foreseen the path he ended up taking. He has lived so long, and his life has been full but he is tired.

Fjord had been the first of the Nein to pass. After him Caleb. After Caleb the group coalesced around him. They had never shared many details, but they seemed to know. Keeping his promise to Caleb he allowed them to care for him. To bring him food, to message him to make sure he was okay. They invited him on adventures when they needed and he never turned them down.

They continued asking him to teleport them and every single time he did. Kingsley goes next and then Beauregard. Those years are full of so much loss condensed into such a tiny portion of his existence. He isn’t used to things happening so quickly and he begins to reach out. New connections. He finds people to care for, to mentor and to bolster. He dedicates his life to using aliases to research and study and publish materials to help the mages after him and Caleb. He finds himself beseeched by parties of assholes for assistance and while he never fights alongside another group he makes himself useful in any other way in his ability.

He always imparts the lesson to leave the world better than they found it, and if they listen, if they are the same as his friends, the best people he’s ever known, the world will survive yet. There is a pause between good-byes for a number of years. Then he loses Yasha and Jester. Jester is one of the hardest, the friendly little blue tiefling with a heart for adventure who hugged him when touch had still burned. After her goes Veth and after Veth, finally Caduceus goes back to the earth.

He promised Caleb to live a full life, but every year, the anniversary of the day they met several lifetimes ago, he visits the Blooming Grove. He walks the grounds, he sits with Caleb and he tells him of his research, he reminisces and he whispers love to the flowers that grow. They are fiery orange and yellow with some deep purple and blue spattered among them. Caduceus says on his first visit that the blue ones are called forget-me-nots. Essek picks one every year and presses it into a book, like Yasha showed him once upon a time.

Caduceus and Essek drink the tea from the flowers Caleb gave them. For centuries they sat together, telling stories, having extended conversation year after year. Some years Caduceus travelled so Essek made his vigil alone, but he never forgot Caleb and he never forgot the Mighty Nein. They lived as long as he did for they were in his heart always.

The last time he visits Caleb they talk for hours. “Every good thing I have done, every positive emotion and happiness I have known in these centuries has been because of you. You allowed me to feel again and the best decision I could have ever made was letting my plan go to allow myself to grow close to you.”

He is lying beside the grave twirling a delicate blue flower between wrinkled, aching fingers. “Caleb Widowgast you have lived with me for a long while and I thank you again for the gifts you gave me while you were here. I hope you are proud of me. I love you to the end of my days my friend.”

He falls asleep then, in the night of the Blooming Grove, fireflies and an infinite expanse of stars casting gentle light across his stilling form.

As Essek Thelyss fades he finds himself again in a garden. It is brightly coloured and lush, well cared for. There is a small cottage there and as he glides to the door, drawn to it as if by gravity, it opens and he sees copper hair, vibrant blue eyes, and the widest smile he’s missed the most, “I told you my friend, we would meet again.”

“I never doubted you Caleb Widogast.”

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #the mighty nein #fan fiction #my writing #wreckwrites #critfic #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers

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gaawachan · 3 years

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Discord Convo: Yasha, Essek, Culture, Shadowgast Ramblings

Me: Man I wish Essek and Yasha could have - nvm I'll finish that thought later.

Sibling: I KNOW. I ALREADY KNOW WHAT YOU'RE GOING TO SAY AND I WISH YASHA HAD BEEN MORE PRESENT IN THE STORY

Me: Stop doing the hive mind thing. it's invasive. i feel violated.

Sibling: I can't help it.

Me: But yeah Essek and Yasha. I find it very interesting because there's actually a lot of crossover in their temperaments, but in terms of physical presentation, they couldn't be more different. They both came from completely different sub-cultures in Xhorhas, and it's like... that temperament among the Rosohna Drow. It makes me think that they learned how to like... Okay hang on this is hard to put into words... Right so from a meta perspective, it reads like Matt took Yasha's basic temperament and applied it to other people of Xhorhas. Like Yasha was a broader expression of typical mannerisms of Xhorhas (except that Yasha was no longer bound by the modesty of the cultures there, and having been exposed to Molly, was freer with her sexuality after it was stifled in the Wastes in her youth). Right? So with that thought in mind, look at Essek. Essek doesn't have the same trauma Yasha has so he doesn't have the same sort of dysfunctions, but when you first meet Yasha, she does display a casual arrogance/confidence about her power, and Essek has the temperament, but what he lacks is the freedom from modesty. He's extremely withdrawn.

Sibling: Are you saying he's going to become an e-boy? Because there's no promises that under that cloak, he isn't already one lmaoooo

Me: Well, I think it's interesting because this is actually one underrated area where I think Caleb would actually be really good for him and vice versa. It also says a lot about the odd intersections of culture in Xhorhas, because in old drow society, sex was uh... you know, let's not go into that.

Sibling: Just all of the nasty tags from AO3

Me: but my point is that it makes sense that the Kryn dynasty would be heavily influenced by and adopt a lot of the mannerisms and cultural relations from the people of Xhorhas because... they would be trying to distance themselves from the violence of their past by integrating stuff from the cultures they colonized. It makes sense that maybe the nomads of the wastes would impact their mannerisms and dynamics, though you can see echos of old drow culture in the dynasty, of course, with the dens and all.

Sibling: They're doing what the pirates from Wind Waker did once they found New Hyrule lol. "Yes, oh yes. We love technology"

Me: Yeah. So anyway, Yasha and Essek would have been interesting to have more interactions with.

Sibling: I mean, both are good characters? They just didn't have a lot of screentime, and it didn't really seem like Ashley was super interested in exploring her past. It doesn't help that Yasha was essentially silent for all major character interactions lol.

Me: They are both socially awkward, with casual confidence in their skills, and somewhat similar mannerisms, but Essek is very modest but manipulative, and Yasha is very upfront/blunt, and both of them have the guilt thing going on. Going back to Essek and Caleb. I think that their immediate positive effects on each other are obvious, but on this topic specifically... Caleb's only ever hesitant with his affection because of his trauma, really. You get the distinct impression that he used to be a lot more touchy feely (just look at his early game dynamic with Nott), and while he is usually very polite, he has no problem with being blunt about his sexuality when he thinks he can get away with it. At the same time, Caleb's history with sex and relationships is really twisted and complicated, so he needs a partner who is respectful of boundaries and willing to check what is going on at any given time. In other words, he needs someone who is not like Molly (no offense to widomauk shippers).

Sibling: I mean, that was the primary problem with Molly. They had no sense of boundaries and that was good for someone like Yasha. Not so much for people with trauma related to lack of boundaries.

Me: (text dump) No, Molly DID have a sense of boundaries; they deliberately crossed them in order to make people uncomfortable. THAT was my biggest problem with Molly. Molly knew exactly what they were doing. Taliesin said as much. It's why I never shipped widomauk, because it’s yet another relationship where casual disregard for Caleb's comfort is present. It's why if I had shipped Caleb with anyone other than Essek, it would have been Fjord or Caduceus (but he's a disinterested ace and I respect that) or Yasha (but she's gay and I respect that) simply because they were clearly the ones who appeared most cognizant of Caleb's social comfort levels and such (so basically widofjord is what I'm saying, lol). This isn’t a widomauk hate thing; it’s just not to my taste because I relate too much to hating having my personal boundaries deliberately treated with disrespect. That's going off on a tangent, though.

Essek, in contrast, needs someone who he can let his hair down with comfortably. Essek seems to only really feel that way around Caleb and Jester. Caleb's the only one Essek really initiates touch with. Caleb's the one who gets Essek to swear for the first time, like Caleb swearing gave Essek permission to do the same just for the hell of it. Caleb and Jester, more than the others, made it clear that he's allowed to be goofy when he's with them. The two of them joking around with Immovable Object (and Caleb openly participating in that clownery with Seeming and such when he and Essek have so much in common) makes Essek feel comfortable with exploring not having a stick up his ass 24/7, which is exactly what a clearly extremely repressed person like Essek could benefit from in a partner, a person who he can relax around and vent with, because he's very obviously never had that before, or at least not consistently. And how did he get to that point?

It's from a thing about Caleb that is extremely underrated. Caleb, be it from his natural personality or that coupled with his training, knows the value of being openly vulnerable. It's very clearly NOT something that Trent specifically taught him. Caleb recognizes that the best way to manipulate people is to be sweet and earnest and awkward and TRUTHFUL about his beliefs and vulnerabilities, but this pays off in ways unintended. Caleb expects it to just be transactional, but people end up genuinely forming bonds with him because of it, and what's more, that he does that with such regularity results in other people responding in kind (which is the goal). Someone as reserved as Essek could only stand to be vulnerable BECAUSE Caleb made HIMSELF vulnerable first. I think the best thing Liam ever did for Shadowgast was make it clear that everything he said to Essek may have been manipulative... but every word of it was also true, because Essek is clever enough to recognize that honesty.

The most underrated line in Essek's growth as a person doesn't even come from Essek, and it doesn't come from Caleb talking to Essek. I think people forget about this, but during the final conversation with the scourger, which Essek was present for... the scourger asks Caleb why he's bothering with her. And Caleb says (paraphrasing) "I think that I hoped if I could see one hint of change from you, I could believe that we aren't both damned." Imagine being Essek and hearing that. It recontextualizes everything about Essek's growth. The rapid change between the boat scene and Aeor isn't just because Essek wants to be a better person. It's because he wants to prove to Caleb that Caleb isn't damned, because no one has ever done that for Caleb. Caleb is so obviously drowning in his past during the Aeor arc. That sort of hope is something he desperately needed. It's one of the few things about the Aeor arc that isn't botched by the rush to end the series; Essek's consistent determination to be a positive influence on Caleb, for Caleb, was gold from start to finish. Remember too that by the time of the boat scene, Caleb had already met with Astrid and had that disheartening conversation. Essek's efforts to become a better person feel like he's trying to almost unknowingly undo the damage that the recent interactions with Astrid and Trent had done to Caleb's psyche.

... tldr, Caleb is going to teach Essek how to be a manslut... in private... jk but not really.

Sibling: I SAID THAT EBOY ESSEK LOL! Ugh... that final epilogue screwing over my favorite MLM ship... It's not canon. They went and made their own school, and lived forever in disguises to keep the scourgers coming after them.

*That was the end of this part of the conversation. On reflection, I ought to have noted that Essek’s modesty might not be so much a cultural thing as it is an “Essek trying to keep people away from him like a prickly porcupine” thing, but you never know. If it is cultural, that may be the result of the dynasty trying to distance themselves to the practices of those who worship Lolth, but I don’t know that Exandria lore has ever said anything about this? And if it is a cultural thing, is it limited to the nobility, like Essek? One could also argue that the cultural practices of Yasha’s people, with the arranged marriages and such, may have influenced the dynasty’s own cultural formation, but I feel like I didn’t make that clear enough? Anyway, that’s why it’s a ramble.

#critical role #critrole #critical role spoilers #critrole spoilers #shadowgast #essek thelyss #yasha nydoorin #caleb widogast

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out-there-so-it-isnt-just-me · 3 years

Text

Hey guys...I have an idea if you aren't sad enough yet. I was struck by a painful comparison sort of crossover idea. It would never be canon, but I'm mourning the end of Campaign Two, and I want to be sad and over-dramatic. Essek, but as Eliza from Hamilton in “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story.” But, it’s for the entire Mighty Nien. Some of the lyrics are so on point for a poor Essek who will probably outlive all of his friends (Elves still generally live longer than Firbolgs by a good 200 years). Anyway, enjoy.

Every other founding father's story gets told

It occurs to Essek, during one of the many periods without one of the Mighty Nein (the time that he dwells on them the most), how unfair their whole situation is. They saved all of Exandria, and no one knows. They are amazing, and odd, and frustrating, and no one knows. They will die loved deeply, but not widely. He knows they prefer it that way, all things considered. But, everyone else who saves all of Exandria becomes legends, while the people he loves best will be forgotten, remembered only by him.

And that. That sounds unbearable.

So, in-between the times he sees the Mighty Nein, he begins to gather accounts. He writes down stories from those they helped, or simply left an impression on. The people who have met the Mighty Nein have an air about them that he gets good at detecting. They attracted the oddballs and the outcasts. And if they're entirely normal (whatever that means), then they usually get a certain twitch if you ask for stories about interesting strangers. About half the time, a certain blue tiefling pops up in them. He almost has a heart attack when he hears “go fuck yourself,” in Jester’s cheerful voice, when he knows Jester isn’t anywhere near there. He ends up getting the kenku’s story, and the voices of his friends are weaved into it. Essek thinks the Mighty Nein are the best people in the world, in their own rambunctious way. Part of him wants the world to love them as he does, or at least have the option to. Everyone should have a chance to get to know them, even if it's just through tales. The world would be a better place for it.

...And when you're gone, who remembers your name?

Who keeps your flame?

Who tells your story?

Once there is only him and Caduceus left, this becomes a more prominent part of how he spends his time. After...after a long, long period of mourning. He has so much life left to live without most of the people who made it worth living.

I put myself back in the narrative

I stop wasting time on tears

I live another 50(0) years

He stops hiding his past and bears his sins and his story to the world. Essek tells his story so their story can be appreciated to the fullest; his part in their story emphasizes the depth of their compassion and chaos. He tells his story, but not as himself. Essek continues to drift from town to town under a vast number of aliases. Everywhere he goes, he spreads his stories of his friends, some serious, most silly. He disguises himself so he can stay alive to do a little more good, tell a few more stories, to truly live the life his friends wanted for him.

...I try to make sense of your thousands of pages of writings

You really do write like you're running out of time.

Eventually, he gets his hands on some of Beau’s journals, Jester’s diaries, and Caleb’s research. Well, he always had the research, but he gets to the point where he can share it with the world. He slowly begins to share and explain their thoughts and personalities with excerpts from those. Maybe he also has letters that he shares parts of (though most of those, those words specifically for him, he keeps to himself, for himself). He wonders if they'd be angry at him for spilling their private thoughts. But neither Beau nor Jester filtered their thoughts very much in the first place, and he keeps anything truly painful out of the public eye. Caleb, well, Caleb was always about sharing his knowledge and research, provided it wasn't dangerous. And they were all dead anyway. One of the last things they told him was to be happy. And talking about his friends, learning more about his friends even after they were long dead, that made him the happiest he'd been in a while. So he hoped they wouldn’t begrudge him this small joy he’d managed to grasp and forgive him, should it be necessary.

I rely on Angelica

While she's alive, we tell your story

She is buried in Trinity Church near you

When I needed her most, she was right on time

Caduceus isn’t particularly interested in being well known or famous, but he never shies away from telling a story about any of his friends. Plus, he thinks it’s a good project for Essek. It's a way to continue to show his love for them and keep them alive in the only way they can be now. When Caduceus eventually passes away, he joins the eight other graves (Veth refused to be buried apart from Yeza) that lay in a tucked-away corner of the Blooming Grove. There is one space left, nestled between where Caleb and Jester lay, but it will be empty for a long time yet.

And I'm still not through

I ask myself, what would you do if you had more time...

...You could have done so much more if you only had time

And when my time is up, have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?

He keeps adding to his tale; he stretches it longer and longer with every shred he can remember. But, even his memory, as long as it is, runs out eventually. And their story finally ends, but he doesn't. He throws himself into activities that remind him of them. He does a lot of gardening ( mostly tea, poisonous plants, and flowers). He teaches children some rudimentary dunamancy in his spare time, for Caleb. He messes around with alchemy a little. Eventually, he publishes the last of the research that he and Caleb worked on together; ones that took him decades to solve by himself. He even finds himself drawing a surprising amount of dicks on random surfaces near the very end.

Oh, can I show you what I'm proudest of?

...I help to raise hundreds of children

I get to see them growing up

The time that doesn’t go towards his now worrying amount of hobbies, he spends doing what he has done since the beginning: caring for the Mighty Nien’s true legacy. He looks after and visits their children. He takes care of descendants of Luc, of Jester and Fjord, of the random teenager that Beau and Yasha seemed to adopt completely on accident, of TJ, of the Clays, and of a lovechild of Kingsley’s that found out who his father was and then somehow found Essek himself to learn about him. In an embarrassing show of sentimentality, Essek always keeps at least one offspring of Caleb's very first cat. There is a very funny story about Caleb thinking the animal was spayed when it was, in fact, not. He visits the different generations every couple of years or so (he has a schedule). The drow makes sure they know the stories of their ancestors, the adventures of the Mighty Nien; he tells them it's all real. He gives them ways to contact him if they’re in danger, or need any kind of help really ( he has funds to spare at this point). Every once in a while, a few of them will get it in their heads to write him yearly updates. It’s nice.

In their eyes, I see you, Alexander

I see you every time

And when my time is up

Have I done enough?

Will they tell your story?

It is strange and painful to see the attitude and mannerisms of the Nein in the descendants who have never met them. It is wonderful too. His stories of the Mighty Nein have become well-known tales that no one can decide how much is truth and how much is fiction (it’s true, it’s all somehow, hilariously true). He preserved them in his own way, in the right way (time travel is something he thinks of with a growing hunger the more years pass between when he last laid eyes on his friends). But in these men, these women, these children, they are truly alive.

One little half-orc girl has Jester’s mischievous eyes and infectious joy. Another halfling man squints just like Veth when she's trying to figure out if someone is bullshitting her. There’s a boy who charmingly bumbles his way through most social encounters, as Fjord did. A firbolg woman who has Caduceus gentle smile. A tiefling girl with all the audacious bravado of Kingsley. A man with eyes just as piercing as Beau’s, and a tongue just as sharp. Even Yasha’s kind and gentle demeanor somehow shines through in one small boy, despite her having no direct descendants. He gets to see these flashes of his friends in those who survive them, and it thrills him as much as it cuts him. (Sometimes, when the current cat has ruined some item of his, the pleased look it wears resembles the quiet glee Caleb exuded after he pulled a successful prank, but he’s pretty sure that’s just fanciful thinking.)

One of the last things Essek does before he dies is fully publish, in print, the entire tale of the Mighty Nein. How they came together, every person they helped along the way. The love, the loss, the kindness, the chaos, every moment he could recall or record was put into this one account (necessarily stretched out into several separate books). There is only one set, and he hands it over to the Library of the Cobalt Soul in Rexxentrum. Then he goes on his lonely way.

Oh, I can't wait to see you again

It's only a matter of time

There are now ten graves, each one as unique as its owner, nestled in a small corner of the Blooming Grove. One grave has the dirt still fresh around it. And somewhere, beyond the Divine Gate, there are cheers and laughs and cries of joy as the Mighty Nien become the Mighty Nine once more.

fin.

It’s my head-canon that by the time Essek dies he’s practically a mythical figure among the select families he looks after. It's to the point that in certain locations ( that have a lot of Nein remnants) he becomes a local legend, the guardian angel of nien (no spelling specified and with no real distinction of what that means), with skin like the night sky who drifts (literally) through towns and helps those who meet a certain requirement, unknown to the general populus. There are rumors that certain people have bestowed upon them a token they could use to call upon the angel’s aid. Of course, the people who have the tokens (sending stones or something similar. IDK how he would get that many wondrous items, but I focus on satisfying narrative not, like, plausibility) know Essek and know that he has died and that the tokens no longer work, but for a while they keep them as heirlooms, to show the love of one drow wizard for the friends he had long, long ago. Eventually, one of Veth’s descendants sells off their set because sending stones are worth A LOT, and the money seemed more practical. They have their stories; those are enough.

And before anyone complains about the Kingsley bit, I felt compelled to add a smidgen of Kingsley content because Essek loves Jester and Jester’s with Fjord and Kingsley is with both of them for years. I’m sure they get to know each other well enough that seeing traits of Kingsley is vaguely nostalgic and warming, even if it lacks the depth and love he feels for everyone else. Also, there’s no convincing me that Molly/Kingsley doesn’t have at least one illegitimate child running around from various trysts, he was basically the Scanlan of this campaign. It goes with the hedonistic vibe he gives off.

Also, is it normal that I completely designed the Nein’s burial site in my head because I did? Like I imagine they’re all spaced out in a circle. It’s almost like a stone gazebo but there’s not really a roof; it’s just a group of nine pillars that support a stone circle. The entrance is the Traveler’s door with dicks around the edge, and each of the nine pillars/supports is designed to look the knowing mistresses staff. The stone circle is covered in carvings of storm clouds and lightning. Wires are strung across the center of the stone circle to form the symbol of the Cobalt Soul. Not that you can see the wires, because vines have been grown all around them. Once you step through the Traveler’s gate, you’ll find yourself on some kind of rough mosaic floor, with depictions of a peacock, a pyramid, a snake, a sun, a moon, and (oddly) a pirate ship. The mosaic is made up of buttons of various materials and shapes. In the center is a saltwater pool/spring (depending on how magical we can get idk) and floating above it is an eternal flame encased in some sort of dunamancy magic that doesn’t actually exist that keeps it floating and eternal. Look I'm running out of ideas.

I can’t imagine what everyone’s grave marker would be, but I’m pretty sure Yasha’s is a simple stone that says "YASHA NYDOORIN: wife of Zuella and Beauregard Lionette," and the place where’s she’s buried is just covered in wildflowers that spread outside of the gazebo to encircle the structure entirely up to the gate. Also, everyone has a stone tarot card by their grave with the picture and designation that Molly gave them. Beyond that grows a weirdly dense thicket of trees and bushes that make finding the Nein's resting place rather hard. It’s said only the descendants of the Nein’s family or those favored by the Wildmother (or Traveler, Or Ioun, or Storm Lord) can find their way to them. And one tree, directly behind Yasha, is dead, struck by lightning who knows how long ago.

And they’re buried in this order: Yeza/Veth, Caleb, Essek, Jester, Ford, Kingsley, Yasha, Beau, Cad. I know there’s a good chance that a) Kingsley would just eff off and die somewhere unknown and b) Cad would probably want to be buried with the rest of his family, but shhh let me dream.

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spottedenchants · 3 years

Text

In Which Essek and Caduceus Talk Time

(This one is post-Trent Fight but pre-Aeor Wizard Date in c2e141)

“What do you think about this one, Essek?”

“I believe... this is... the Gonsolves family? If I’m remembering correctly, they tend on the warmer side of mint. Refreshing and comforting.”

“Hey, you got it in one. You want more than a sip?”

“Please and thank you, Mr. Clay.”

A light pat on the back as a sign of a job well done, an unavoidable overlap of large hands to small when a teacup is transferred to refill.

Touch with Caduceus is utilitarian at its most and often broadcasted in slow, sweeping motions, so it’s never truly intimidating despite the disparity in their sizes.

Caduceus’ gaze is also too sharp to miss the way Essek usually freezes at unexpected contact. He’s kind enough not to mention it, at the very least.

Essek recognizes Caduceus’ lack of any expectation with touch- it’s similar to that he felt up until recently, and that keeps most of the burn at bay. Comfortable in the way a warm cup of tea is.

Essek is almost reminded of his brother, years ago and, perhaps some day, more recently. Maybe that's why, really.

“Do they make good neighbors, the Gonsolves, and the rest of the families you keep with you?”

“Hm. They’re all a quiet bunch, but not bad company.”

A sip, side-by-side.

A light breeze ruffles the moonlit grasses and flowers past the porch of the Blooming Grove's temple.

Essek is unsure where he’s trying to go with this- a welcome change of pace for once. This is how conversation is actually supposed to be, right? Simply saying what’s coming to mind, not planning multiple steps ahead? Present.

He continues.

“You’ve been around for a while.”

“Longer than the rest of our friends I suppose.”

Another pause.

Caduceus flicks an ear and speaks up again.

“It’s not so bad, really. Nice, in some ways.”

“You think so?”

“I can reflect on where I am now and where I have been, but in a bigger picture. A longer scale, like nature’s.”

“I see. Having lived under constant night skies, I think that is a similar sensation. The heavens progress around us and we can see them change firsthand.”

“I had lots of time to see how things change, yeah.”

“Enough to better the world a bit even before they all crashed in, hm?”

Essek practically hums this into his tea.

The two sip quietly.

Or, Essek does, until he realizes Caduceus has been giving him a long, curious look.

“What is it?”

“I’m wondering if you want me to tell you something.”

“If I want you to tell me… what exactly?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

Essek thought they were just chatting over tea. Is there actually something he’s trying to get out of this?

“May I? Tell you something, I mean.”

Essek’s curiosity is piqued. He waves a hand forward, taking another sip.

Caduceus takes a slow breath. Thinking, Essek guesses.

“I was alone for quite a while before they came and I found my way towards my destiny. You would understand that scale I think.”

“I... can relate, yes.”

“I don’t know if I can say those years and my actions during them were ‘right’, or ‘worth it’, but in some ways, they all led me here.

“Without them, I wouldn’t be here sharing tea with you. I wouldn’t have picked the leaves I did when I did, and this brew would have been different.

“Time is your thing, but I think I understand enough to know that it can’t be stopped when things are meant to happen in our lives, and that it keeps going until we get to where we’re supposed to be.

“But more importantly-”

Caduceus turns to face Essek entirely with this, pink eyes to violet.

“Now I know we are the change to the tide. It’s not just swirling around us.”

Caduceus’ presence is almost soothing when those piercing, knowing, well-intentioned eyes don’t find their way to the cracks Essek knows must linger in his soul.

He does brew lovely tea, though.

All Essek can do is nod. Caduceus faces forward again, a placid, kind smile across his face.

They both sip, side-by-side, looking out into the night.

[check out the rest of the Touching Sentiments series here!]

#essek thelyss #caduceus clay #critical role #idk how else to tag this #chanse writing #long post

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

no choir (7/7)

AO3 Link

Deep in the sprawling tangle of streets in Zadash, there sat a coffee shop. But this shop was unlike any other in the city—or in the world. Their menu hosted a standard fare upon first glance. They sold Americanos, café latte, mochas, various teas, flat whites, and an array of flavors. A long-standing sign in the front window boasted the best “Caramel Frappuccino in Wildemount” with an official-looking stamp in the corner.

But upon further inspection, tucked beneath the chalkboard with flavor add-ins, was what made this place truly unique. You could order an extra shot of charisma with your flat white, two pumps of focus to your iced latte, or even a sprinkle of luck to your hot chocolate.

Yasha, traveling under the mantle of Kord, had never seen anything quite like this. The sign above the door dubbed the shop Cobalt Coffee.

The barista behind the counter looked up at the quiet creak of the door permitting Yasha’s entry. He smiled politely at her and remained quiet as she scanned the menu with a curious eye. The shop boasted a handful of tables, two of which sat occupied at the moment, so Yasha took her time.

When she stepped up to order, the Drow behind the counter smiled a little more.

“I’ll take an Americano, please.”

The barista—who wore a nametag Yasha now saw said ‘Essek’—raised an eyebrow at her.

“Any add-ins?”

Yasha hesitated, mismatched eyes flicking to the inconspicuous board in the corner again.

“Some cream for calming, maybe?”

Essek nodded and turned away to start on her drink. Yasha deflated as she stepped back from the counter, cheeks hot with embarrassment. She felt foolish, ordering a drink to take the edge off in such a strange way. But from Essek’s reaction, it seemed stranger here to order a drink without a foolish sounding ingredient added in.

Kord had asked Yasha a few nights back to chase down a group of heretics that were wrecking havoc along the Glory Run Road. She was still tracking them down, but Yasha could tell she was getting close. The tavern owner she had spoken to just this morning recalled some faces she had described. He pointed her in the right direction and assured Yasha they had less than a day’s lead on her. Stopping at this shop, however, was a detour she decided upon for herself.

“One Americano with calming cream,” Essek called to Yasha quietly. She stepped up to grab her drink, taking a sip, almost on instinct. The rush of soothing sweetness that flooded her veins and unlocked the tension in her muscles was disorienting. Yasha didn’t know if it was actual magic or merely a placebo effect, but she indeed felt better.

“Thank you,” Yasha said, reaching for her coin purse.

Essek accepted her payment with a smile and waved as Yasha exited the shop.

Yasha found herself back in Zadash a little over a week later. Not for any reason, more on her way through after dealing with Kord’s heretics. She was content to get lost among the tangle of streets, the bustle of the crowd, and wound up staying for a few days.

Somehow, she found Cobalt Coffee again, even though she didn’t remember looking for it.

There was a different barista behind the counter today. The man was gangly and tired looking, his red hair tied back in a loose ponytail that fell over one shoulder as he read a book propped on the counter. As it was early afternoon, the café was empty. A speckled cat lay curled into a fluffy ball near the barista’s elbow, purring softly in the quiet.

He glanced up distractedly as Yasha approached the counter, his attention clearly locked on the tome.

“Ah, hello,” he muttered, accent thick. “How can I help you?”

For all the surety Yasha walked into this café with, she hesitated. She remembered Essek had seemed perplexed by her lack of requested add-ins last time, and Yasha didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. But it seemed ridiculous to ask for an add-in that she had no use for.

As she scanned the menu, Yasha’s gaze caught on something, an idea popping into her head.

“An iced latte with one pump of slumber, please,” Yasha said.

Her dreams from Kord were always confusing—symbolic and silent most of the time. The thunder could either be his rumbling tenor or merely thunder, and the frequency was extremely lacking. Perhaps with a little extra assistance, Yasha might have more luck with those dreams.

Her thoughts distracted her last time she was here, so Yasha hadn’t watched Essek actually make her coffee. This time, though, the barista (the handwriting had been messy, but she’s fairly certain it said ‘Caleb’) held her attention. Yasha tracked his movements as he went about making the coffee, movements precise and sure.

He poured her drink into a to-go mug and Yasha wondered where this magical add-in had come along during the brewing process. But then he took the mug and walked over to a row of syrup dispensers. He set the mug beneath one, made a complex series of hand motions that produced tiny, glowing arcane circles, and then added a pump of syrup to Yasha’s drink.

“Here you go,” Caleb muttered as he slid the coffee mug across the counter.

Perplexed, Yasha merely nodded her thanks and paid. Caleb turned to go back to his book and paused.

“Have you ever had this drink before?”

“Uhm…no?” Yasha said, hesitant.

“I would suggest waiting until you get wherever you are staying before drinking that, then. It is a fast-acting spell. The magic will hold in the coffee for a few hours, but once you drink it, the magic moves quickly.”

“Oh, thank you,” Yasha said. She gave him a half wave, unsure if they were at that level of customer-server relationship, before scurrying from the shop.

Her dreams did not end up summoning Kord because of the magic coffee, but it was one of the best sleeps Yasha had in a long time.

The third time Yasha came upon the coffee shop, she was looking for it. Kord had not contacted her in weeks, and she worried she had done something wrong. There had been no dreams, no storms, not even a passing grey cloud to reassure her. She wasn’t sure what the coffee shop might offer her, but perhaps it was the familiarity she sought.

Pushing into Cobalt Coffee, Yasha found yet another barista behind the counter. Her nametag bore big, blocky writing that dubbed the woman ‘Beau’. There were a few other customers mulling over their own orders at the scattered tables. As Yasha approached the counter, scanning the add-in menu, she wondered what she might manage today.

“What can I do for ya?” Beau asked, leaning on the counter and smirking up at Yasha.

“Could I get a flat white with a shot of luck, please?”

Yasha expected Beau to turn away and start making her drink—just like Essek and Caleb did. But she raised a sharp brow at Yasha and gave a quick huff of laughter.

“Nah, that’s not what you need. Hang tight.”

Baffled, Yasha watched Beau whirl away from the counter in one fluid motion to brew coffee. After a moment, she remembered to step away and to the side in case anyone walked in and needed the menu. But it was all on autopilot.

Neither of the other baristas challenged what she ordered, so Yasha didn’t know if she should say something. This was…unprecedented.

Beau was quick-footed and slight handed behind the bar, mixing and measuring and swirling with all the force of a storm. Yasha couldn’t help but to watch her, enthralled.

After a few moments, Beau came back to the counter and slid the coffee toward Yasha with a devilish grin.

“Flat white with what you need,” Beau said with a wink.

Before Yasha could respond, the door to the shop opened, grabbing Beau’s attention. The barista lit up and went back to the other side of the counter.

“Hey there, Fjord! The usual?”

“H-How much do I owe you?” Yasha remembered to say, somehow finding her voice through her flailing.

“It’s on the house!” Beau waved Yasha off, already working on this Fjord’s drink.

Yasha took her drink after hesitating for a moment, unsure what she was about to experience. Ducking from the store, she took a careful sip and felt a subsequent rush through her veins. Blinking against the surge of confidence that coiled through her limbs and rushed into her head, Yasha turned on a sharp heel and made her way toward Kord’s temple nearby.

She had a god to talk to.

Yasha stayed in Zadash for longer than she meant to. She told herself it was the lack of direction offered by the Storm Lord. She told Essek and Caleb she was on an extended visitation on behalf of her god. Beau never asked out loud, but her impossibly blue eyes did every time Yasha walked into Cobalt Coffee. But Beau also grinned more genuinely each time Yasha came in. She also never got Yasha’s order right.

They traded small talk that became progressively more. Snippets of history passed like a mug over the counter, snatches of truth stirred in with idle conversation. Deeper truths and darker coffee accompanied early morning visits in an otherwise empty shop. It was strange for Yasha to do this, especially after Zuala, and more so after she told Beau about Zuala. But she trusted Beau with these fragments as much as she trusted her to get her order wrong in the right way. It became easier as days passed.

Every time Yasha tried to order a drink with a magical add-in, Beau would shake her head and tell her she needed something else. Yasha had given up on the thought of protesting. The obvious confidence booster Beau gave her the first time ended with a vivid dream from Kord that same night, telling Yasha he had no current task for her. Then there was the latte with a shot of luck added in that ended with Yasha bumping into a vendor selling clothes almost identical to the ones Yasha misplaced the day before. The last drink had a spike of focus, lending Yasha the clarity she needed to perform a long, grueling ritual to the Storm Lord.

One day, Yasha lingered in the café. Beau was behind the counter and the tables were empty, the store quiet. Her drink must have had a sprinkle of bravery, or perhaps Yasha had grown comfortable enough with Beau to cast aside hesitation. Regardless, she found conversation easier than normal, her hesitations all but nonexistent.

“I’ve never seen you do magic over the drinks. How do you cast?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Beau said with a dismissive wave. “Haven’t got a lick in my bones.”

“Then…” Yasha trailed off, startled. Were all the drinks placebos? But they couldn’t be…Yasha knew what magic felt like.

“Caleb and Essek pre-enchant the ingredients before my shifts,” Beau explained, a smile curling up the corner of her mouth. “The magic holds longer in the ingredients than it does on people. All I have to do is add it to the drinks and voila.”

“Oh,” Yasha looked down at her café mocha.

“You thought my drinks were bullshit, didn’t you?” Yasha looked up at Beau, panicked, until she saw the teasing smirk.

“No.” Yasha rushed to defend herself anyway, her cheeks flaming. “I just…I don’t know.”

Beau laughed, loud and cheerful. Somehow, Yasha understood Beau wasn’t laughing at her expense.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Beau chuckled. “And I’m glad you trust me with your drinks. Most people tell me I’m an asshole or to fuck off.”

“I think you have magic,” Yasha said. Beau blinked at her, head tipping to the side a little. “You always seem to know just what I need.”

It was Beau’s turn to blush as she blinked wide-eyed at Yasha. She took a sip of her mocha, never taking her eyes off Beau from behind the rim of her mug. Beau swept a look over Yasha’s relaxed posture and tried for a casual stance.

“Maybe I’m misinterpreting or overstepping, but would you like to get dinner with me tonight? I know the guy who cooks at the tavern down the street. Best food you’ve ever tasted.”

Yasha smirked into her mug, attempting to hide her blush. “I thought you’d never ask.”

#cr #critical role #beauregard lionett #yasha #beauyashaweek2021 #beauyasha #writing #my writing

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mithrilwren · 3 years

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Fanfic ask game for procrastinating on writing, which as of this week is actually accurate, since I’m finally writing again! (or, more specifically, editing what I wrote two months ago so I can get back to writing.)

Tagged by @essektheylyss! Thank you, this is exactly the kind of activity my brain needed tonight.

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

72! I was hovering at 69 for quite a while, sad to break the streak haha

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

~550K, which is somehow both more and less than what I expected

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Many, lmao. According to my Ao3 (omitting any blanket tags) I’ve got 22 there, plus at least two more over on ff.net from back in the day, and probably a couple more just on Tumblr. Most of them I’ve only written one fic for, though. I think the only fandoms where I’ve written more than one are Critical Role (35), Supernatural (15), Haikyuu!! (3), The Exorcist (2), Dimension 20 (2), and Yu-Gi-Oh! (2)

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Pick a Number, Any Number

Surprisingly, my number one is NOT a Critical Role fic, nor is it even one of my longer multi-chapters! It’s actually a one-shot I wrote for Haikyuu!! back in the day that took off far beyond what I expected. I wrote it for DaiSuga week, which was a ship I (to be completely honest) wasn’t even terribly invested in, but I had a fun idea and people seemed to like it! (It’s also much fluffier than what I usually write, which might be part of its broader appeal ;))

A Winter’s Ball

Unsurprisingly, the next four are all CR ;). This one was a M9 x VM crossover that I primarily wrote between the hours of 3-8am over the course of two insomnia-wracked nights and honestly, I think it shows in its uncharacteristically unstructured format (compared to my typical style, which tends to favour shorter scenes with very intentionally-placed breaks between, as opposed to scenes that flow into each other without pause). That’s not to say I think it’s a bad thing! The story, which follows Beau as she drifts through a party in Whitestone and observes the interactions between the various guests, actually flows better without that kind of interruption. This was also my first Beaujester piece. I started writing it right before Beau’s confession aired, and published it the week after, which definitely pushed me to make what had been only subtextual in the first half of my draft into the emotional lynchpin of the story.

Only the Nightingale Sings

I’m really glad this one still ranks as high as it does, because this story is absolutely my pride and joy. At one time (though I’m not sure that’s true anymore) it was the longest gen fic in the fandom, which is pretty cool! Plot-heavy, twist-heavy, angst-heavy, with seven points of view to follow and multiple interwoven storylines, it was a beast of a thing to write, and took almost exactly a year to finish, but the long process was oh-so worth it. Literally nothing makes me happier today than seeing a new comment or kudos on this story.

Closer Still

One of my earliest shadowgast fics, this one asks the question “how can you make the ‘stuck in an elevator trope’ fantasy?” The answer is, as always, demiplanes. This fic, perhaps more than any of my other shadowgast fics, is interesting to revisit, because it was written before the ep 97 reveal, but literally everything Essek does in it would suggest otherwise. It reads like I already knew he was a spy working with Trent, and yet I was firmly in the “Essek is NOT the spy” camp at the time. Gotta chalk that up to Matt telegraphing his growing guilt into the preceding episodes - even if I couldn’t see it, it was clearly there.

your dust from mine

My other novel-length CR multichapter, this fic brought me so much joy in the otherwise bleak summer of 2020. Most of my best memories of those four months come from working on this story. A Fjorclay adaption of The Goose Girl (my favourite fairytale) this story is about healing, growth, and figuring out what happiness means to you. While I know most people don’t read stories for this pairing anymore, for obvious reasons, I still cherish your dust from mine for how much of my heart I poured into it, and I look back on it with a huge amount of fondness.

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I do my absolute best to respond to every comment someone leaves on a story of mine, even if it occasionally takes a month or two. Replying to comments is one of my favourite parts of the fic-writing process - it gives me a chance to revisit peoples’ kind words and (often, incredibly insightful) observations, and I hope it also shows how appreciative I am of each and every one.

6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Though I write a lot of angst, I honestly tend more towards bittersweet endings than straight-up sadness. The only one I can really think of is What You Own - mind the tags if you follow the link, this is definitely one of the gnarlier things I’ve written for CR - whose ending is, admittedly, bleak. But this story so far removed from canon that I don’t think it’s the kind of angsty ending that lingers with you, as much as it packs a punch and then lets you go on your way.

7) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I tend to enjoy thinking about crossovers moreso than actually writing them. I’ve brainstormed a few, but none have ever made it much farther than the first page.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

A few times! Not often, thankfully. Only one time in particular really sticks out to me, mostly for how it rocked my confidence in a way that I don’t think any comment could now, since I’ve had a few more years to build up faith in my own writing.

9) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Very, very occasionally.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I hope not!

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

12) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Oh man, back in the Glee days... yeah. Yeah, I have. Nothing that ever got published, though ;)

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

Not sure I have one! Ships come and go with the seasons, and sometimes they’re best left in the era you found them.

14) What’s a WIP you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

The Shadowgast figure skating AU. It’s never going to happen, but I wish it had.

15) What are your writing strengths?

I would say probably structure, in terms of constructing narrative arcs and through-lines. I’m organized with my writing in a way that I am in few other areas of my life, haha. I’d also say my sense of place - I think I’m pretty good at constructing living, breathing settings and exploring how my characters interact affect/are affected by them.

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a tendency to be wordy (which you might surmise from the length of this post, lol) and repeat myself, usually by going over emotional beats that don’t need the extra reinforcement. On the other hand, I tend to underexplain certain elements (particularly, important plot details in fic, and character motivation in original writing), which can lead to confusion.

A couple years ago I would have said dialogue, but I’ve put a lot of practice into it and I honestly think I’ve improved a lot, which is pretty cool!

17) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’ve never done it myself, and it’s not generally my favourite thing to read (like @essektheylyss said, it makes me hyper-aware that I’m reading words on a page, especially if I have to follow a footnote somewhere). That said, I’ve definitely also seen it used effectively, so I think it’s more down to whether it suits the particular story!

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Yu-Gi-Oh!

19) What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

As mentioned above, Only the Nightingale Sings.

#tag meme #this took me about an hour and i dont regret a minute of it #personal

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