#And this is just wondering your impressions of Beau and Caleb

[stardustedknuckles]

Okay but I need to know what the people who have only watched c3 think about Beau and Caleb because I've been rotating them in my head for three years too long to be objective anymore but like. Getting to see them through the eyes of a new party just reminded me that even though so much of our delight in C2 was focused around the constant indignity of the Nein, they are objectively a flickering metronome between "how the fuck are these people alive" and "this is the most hyper competent group of mercenaries I've ever seen" and I just. Do they know. Do they know that Beau is so fucking cool. Are there people who learned these two npcs have a whole campaign and want to learn more about them. I look at these two and see a montage of tiefling dicks and red eyes and promising to kill the other if something goes wrong. I see Caleb smearing mud and bat shit on Beau's face and Beau just resigned even as she makes the most aggrieved and annoyed sounds, Beau hauling Caleb's dissociated ass over her own skinny shoulder and walking him to safety. I look at them and see 500 hours and more of the empire siblings. The weeks and months they spent going from hating the parts of themselves they saw in each other to loving in the other what they still struggled with in themselves. I see chosen siblings, best friends. What do other people see?

#Do they know how much went into Beauregard Lionett asking 'you got my back?' knowing he did #How earned 'what's the play Beauregard' is #beauregard lionett #caleb widogast #CR spoilers #Critical role #CR c3 #Bells hells #Edited to add: don't use this as an excuse to bitch about C2 please #I've already removed and blocked one person #I get some frustration on the attention c1 characters have gotten but don't get mad at c2 fans for it #We've been starved and we're just excited #And this is just wondering your impressions of Beau and Caleb #'Beau is a dick' yeah you're right! She is and I love her so much I wrote 800 #Sorry eight hundred thousand words about her #Several thousand of them also about Caleb #So don't be a dick please #Whatever your thoughts these characters brought people out of some dark dark places #It's me I'm people

[infernalodie]

Can you do another sadie sink request?

Maybe like black!male!reader shows up to the premiere of stranger things season 4, the reader is just throwing compliment afterr compliment at sadie and she gets all riled up and they go back to the hotel after and have sex, and then just lounge around and the rest of the cast comes to the hotel room and they all have a movie marathon, including some of the reader's movies?

𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐤

"𝘐'𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘩 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘦 𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳, 𝘩𝘶𝘩, 𝘯𝘰"

Inspo: Chris Brown - Roses

Pairing: Sadie Sink x Black!Male!reader

Summary: Praising Sadie might just be the switch to get her riled up.

Warnings: Fluffy that goes into smut. Praise kink, choking kink, switch!reader, size kink, and slapping.

Words 1337

DNI IF YOU'RE YOUNGER THAN 18!

Cameras flashed left and right, sending blanks in your vision as you stood and smiled. The Louis Vuitton suit hugged your large frame nicely as you smoked a cigar. Enjoying the time off from work to come and support your girlfriend, who had practically dragged you out of the studio to come. She wasn’t going to take your reassurance to show up, so she had made you rush through your wardrobe and fix something that could impress and was presentable.

So, you were now posing for people who likely didn’t give a shit about you being there. Instead, they were likely more attentive to Sadie, who stood only a few feet from your side. Posing for the cameras as you frequently took glances in her direction. Often being caught by Sadie who would hold a grin knowing she had your attention almost always.

And when the two of you were together, people were asking for interviews with both of you. It is a rarity that you, specifically, were out in public. So, seeing you and your girlfriend together was foreign, but as well as a once-in-a-lifetime thing.

“Y/n, did you get to see any of the behind-the-scenes for the show?” The woman, Gloria you believed she said her name was, asked.

“Yes, I did actually,” you answered. “I had Caleb or Wolf secretly videotape scenes of Sadie and send them to me. I will say that it is likely the best acting I have seen in a long time.”

“Really?” Gloria gushed. “That just builds up more excitement for the season’s release.”

You smiled, glancing down at your girlfriend who was nibbling on her bottom lip. Trying to suppress a goofy smile from appearing. “Well, she just had this way of stealing the entire stage, you know? Like, I’ve seen many actors do it, but knowing that it’s my girlfriend doing it, I guess it just made it that more exceptional,” you explained. “She’s just amazing talent and I know that she’s going to do amazing things down the road and I hope I can be there for all of it.”

Sadie felt her heart grow ten sizes at your words. Her hand grabs yours and interlocks your fingers. Your thumb rubbed gently over the back of her hand as you gave a gentle squeeze.

Gloria smiled, finding the words and actions adorable. “But Y/n, you aren’t always out in public or accepting interviews, so we don’t know much of your life. I was wondering what your reaction was with Sadie doing All Too Well?”

Your lips curved into a grin, glancing down at Sadie who seemed to have frozen up at the mention. Eyes staring into open space as she thought back to the night when you finally saw it. That night consisted of a lot of possessive words, bitting, kissing, and a lot of Sadie’s throat hurting after calling your name for three hours. She still remembers how you denied her every orgasm she came upon. Mocking her with words that only made her plead for it further. “Such a good toy for me to play with,” is what you told her. God, she loved seeing that side of you.

But your voice freed her from her sinful thoughts, looking up at you as you said, “Well, I thought what Taylor crafted was beautiful,” you began. “Taylor and I have worked together many times in the past and I think this avenue she’s going down is amazing. Sadie was fantastic and Dylan was great as well. The story being told without it being verbally told was a great choice was what was trying to be communicated.”

Clearing your voice, trying to hide the evil grin. “But I will admit, I was kinda weirded out seeing another guy kissing my girlfriend,” you admitted. “But that’s acting. Sadie reassured me after we finished watching it when I was just staring at the screen in shock.”

Gloria laughed, you as well, but Sadie felt heat spread throughout her body. Knowing that you weren’t exactly lying, but you weren’t telling the truth. Because whilst you praised her for her acting, you had also done it while fucking her. Practically mocking her as your cock stretched her, showing her who you belonged to.

“Thank you for your time, guys. Have a good night.” You and Sadie bid goodbyes, continuing through the premiere. But the entire time, Sadie couldn’t help but want everything to be over. Just so then she got you alone back at the penthouse you had rented out for the both of you.

Almost sensing the dread of continuing tonight, your hand softly rested on her lower back. Fingers curling when feeling the outline of her thong and give a gentle tug. Sadie gasped, hands coming to your chest as you kissed her head. “We’ll be home soon, red,” you reassured. “Then, you can have your fun.” That statement alone made Sadie’s stomach bubble up with excitement and arousal that was beginning to slowly take hold of her mind. Already know all the things she wanted to do when you two got alone.

“Such a good boy for me.” Her words were panted out, body covered in sweat as she bounced on your cock, loving the sight of your blissed-out state. Loving the feeling of your cock twitching inside her just by the small comment.

It hadn’t taken long for Sadie to yank you into the penthouse and start getting you undressed. Lips messily smashing together with her not wasting any time to get you ready before making sure she showed her dominance tonight.

Leaning forward, Sadie’s hands planted themselves on either side of your head. Still, you did not open your eyes, far too focused on how her walls squeezed you nicely. But all it took was a firm slap across the face that brought you back to reality. Unable to get out a comment before the same hand that slapped you was around your throat.

Sadie grinned in amusement at your unmistakable arousal at the actions. Groaning loudly as you swallowed the lump in your throat. “Eyes on me, baby. I want to see every little cute look on your face.”

Your gaze flickered back up to hers, hating how her ego always seemed to grow with the role switch. But you couldn’t care less when she rocked her hips the way she’s doing. Bringing out the most desperate and feral side of you that needs more of her and now.

So, without much thought besides the idea that popped up, you stood up with your arms hooking under Sadie’s knees. The new position made Sadie sink to your pelvis, moaning at the fullness of your cock. But she couldn’t think much about it when her back met cold glass.

Looking over her shoulder, the city lights below filled her vision. Turning her gaze back to you, she was greeted by an animalistic look on your face as you pulled your hips back. Leaving only the tip in, making Sadie whimper. But as fast and as hard as you could, you thrust forward and slammed your cock inside her.

Sadie visibly shook at the shock of the shot of euphoria. Doing it again, she choked on a moan. Her nails dug deeper into the back of your neck with each pound to her flesh. And soon, it became far more desperate and feral, needing to feel her walls continue to convulse around you.

“O-Oh, you fuck me so good, baby,” Sadie praised. “Your cock fills me up so good- Oh, God!”

You grinned, seeing the way her face contorted in pleasure. “Rub your clit for me.” Your order was followed by Sadie rubbing the bud feverishly. Unable to hold in the shaky exhale that fell from her lips as she closed her eyes.

In no time, Sadie finally met her high. Her hands shot back against the glass as her hips jutted forward unapologetically. Legs curled around your forearms as you kissed her cheek. Lips curled into a grin, listening to her whimpers as you slowly pumped your cock deeper into her pussy.

“Such a good toy for me,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her lips. “Good job at the premiere tonight, red.”

#sadie sink fanfiction #sadie sink imagine #sadie sink x black!reader #sadie sink x black!male!reader #sadie sink x reader #sadie sink x male!reader #poc reader #sadie sink x black reader #sadie sink x black male reader #x black reader #x black!reader #x black!male!reader #sadie sink fluff #sadie sink #sadie sink smut

[utilitycaster]

Fjord for the ask meme?

Answering what’s in my inbox, not taking new questions:

First impression: oh thank god this group has someone who can be kind of normal for a few minutes.

Impression now: IT'S THE BOY. Favorite character of Critical Role, period.

Favorite moment: look it's not creative of me to pick, but breaking his pact will forever be one of the most iconic scenes.

Idea for a story: with that said I did recently wonder about an AU in which Travis was not, in fact, turned off by the idea of praying to a shape and Fjord sought out the Luxon. It's in my list of vague fic ideas that have not been outlined and is part of the greater "more Fjord & Essek fics please, we need a dynamic of Wildemount's Most Intense Weird Hot People" agenda.

Unpopular opinion: Insofar as adventuring parties have a leader, he is the leader of the Nein. You may ask "M, don't you also think that Vex, your C1 fave, is the leader of Vox Machina, and that Ashton, your C3 fave, is sort of the leader of Bells Hells" to which I answer yes, being the de facto leader of the adventuring group is in fact a major factor in why I like these characters.

Favorite relationship: I do love Fjorester very much. I do want to shout out just all three of the O.G. C2 top table relationships though; they are all impeccable. Like I love each of their separate romantic relationships but also Fjord, Beau, and Caleb all had absolutely wildly good interactions with each other, start to finish.

Favorite headcanon: as mentioned with Yussa while it is not my headcanon I am team "eventually becomes Marquis of Nicodranas."

#answered #Anonymous #character ask meme #cr tag

[blorbologist]

Power Word Pain Brjeaus?

33.Power Word Pain

"You speak a word of power that causes waves of intense pain to assail one creature you can see within range. If the target has 100 hit points or fewer, it is subject to crippling pain. Otherwise, the spell has no effect on it. A target is also unaffected if it is immune to being charmed."

[I don’t think a CR character has ever cast this, so I’m just going with ~vibes~ instead of the spell]

“Mother - fucking - coward!” snaps Beauregard. Or, Fjord suspects she would, with her usual sharp tongue, if not for how absolutely hammered she is.

How the fuck are they going to get home? Let alone with enough time to sleep this off before the wedding? Which is tomorrow. Gods. He hopes Jester has a spell for this.

Whoever said it’s a Captain’s duty to be the best man is a pigfaced liar. 

“To be fair - completely fair,” Fjord points out mildly, adjusting his hold on the drunk monk, “you didn’t invite him!”

“Well, yeah.” He thinks Beau might grumble as he tries to crabwalk them out the door. The tavernkeep is watching them with barely restrained amusement. “Yeah. But! Doesn’t mean I didn’t want him to - fuck, I don’t know.”

“Know? Ow,” she echoes a little dumbly when she knocks her shoulder into the doorframe. 

Fjord is very glad for the lapse she finds herself in as he faces down stairs. He really wishes they were both more sober - especially Beau. Bets she could dope monk shit her way down no problem.

“How about -” he tries the first step, nudges Beau after him. She takes two at a time, leaving him stumbling to keep them upright. “How about we leave this until after we’ve reached the bottom in one piece?”

Beau nods. Bobs, more like it. “Sure. Yeah. Can do, Capt’n.”

She actually listens, which saves them at least three falls. Between the both of them - Expositor of the Cobalt Soul, Captain of the Hein Heroez - they actually manage to defeat some rickety steps with only a yelp between them. 

He thinks Beau has forgotten what they were discussing, while he sorts out the right way to her house. It’s not as packed as you’d expect, given Caleb simply summoned the Tower inside. Fjord actually forgets all about it, wondering just how many rooms the man could fit in there, if they had a larger wedding party, when-

“Man, I just fucking wanted ‘im to try, you know?”

“Beau,” Fjord says, “are you alright?”

“Yeah. Duh.” She sniffles. 

“You are crying.”

This one comes out shrill. “Am not. You’re not my fuckin’ mom.”

“I am your best man,” he replies. “And I don’t think you should be crying about anything the eve of your wedding.”

Beau’s steps have slowed to a stop. She sways - into his side, far too heavy for how small she is, only to careen away as he struggles to not drop her. “Could cry ‘bout how beautiful Yasha is. Myyyyy wife tomorrow!”

The gravel purrs underfoot.  “Yes,” he agrees, “but you’re not really crying about that, right now.”

“What if I am?” There’s a pause as he tries his best to convey how little he fucking buys that. “What if you’re right. Maybe. And I just… wish he’d tried tuh - to reach out. Ask why he didn’t get one. Beg, maybe. Say he’d change.”

Fjord starts coaxing them towards a tree. They’ll be in late anyways - he figures they should sit down for this. He’s not the most steady on his feet either.

“I hope you’d say no. If he did ask.”

“Of course,” she agrees. “And I’d cuss him out and tell him he’s - fuck. It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not.” He gently eases her around a truly impressive pothole and into the roadside grasses. “You, stupid? Often, yes, but not now.”

“Well - fuck you too.”

A glance out the corner of his eyes tells him Beau is making a great effort to watch where her feet go. He’s sure if he gives it enough time, she will keep - “Wanted the chance to say no. Tell him to fuck off and for it to actually hurt. For it to actually be something he wanted. But he - he never wanted me enough to think this is important. Worth it.”

He sighs through his nose. “Beau -”

That sigh morphs into something like a scream as his foot catches a root and they come crashing to the ground. Which is nothing, to a man who has been through as much as Fjord, but the Wildemother has a sort of humor tonight. His boot holds fast, or the root holds faster, and his ankle twists into sharp pain on the way down.

“Fuck!” At least Beau rolls out of the way on instinct, because he hits the ground hard. “Balls - mother of shit! That hurts!”

“Ah fuck - sorry Fjord.” He hears Beau shifting. Does not see, really, because he’s clutching his foot. The pain almost pulses through his shoes, his nice shoes, and up his calf.

She slumps gratefully into the tree, almost dragging her down with him. Maybe it would be easier if she had - in the moment Fjord can’t quite figure out how to sit in the tangle of roots. “I’m - ow, my - owwwwww.” He gets distinct rubbing her sore ass feelings from that familiar groan.

“We’re going to die out here,” Fjord wheezes between sways of his rocking. Fuck, ow. “And our fiances are going to have to haul us home.”

“It would be a hot as fuck though.”

He feels himself flush something almost blue. “Yeah - yes.” In all likelihood, once he’s over his pity party, once Beau has sobered up a bit, they’ll endure the great migration home. Maybe the pain will help, once he can walk.

“Can you walk?” Beau echoes. 

“Too soon to tell.” He exhales sharply as he tries resting the ankle against a root. That’s not great. Settles for leaning back on his palms. “Well. We have time. The wedding can’t happen without you, anyways.”

Beau nods. “Veth could Disguise Self to look like you,” she says. Can’t seem to suggest who would pretend to be her, though, and so mulls it over.

Fjord… cannot think much, as the pain heaves through him, tugged through by corded ropes in his muscles. But Beau’s earlier hurt - pain, just as real as this - nags at him.

“Aha - I’ve got it.” Beau squints at him. She doesn’t have her goggles on, so he doubts it helps much. Fjord grins broadly, in the hopes the moonlight catches and conveys cheek more than distress. 

“Of course your father couldn’t come - he’s scared to death your wife will kill him!”

Perfectly rational explanation.

#the bestiessss #critical role #campaign 2 #the mighty nein #brjeaus #beauregard lionett #fjord #cr fjord #beauyasha #tagged bc of theys wedding #cr fanfic #critical role fanfiction #spell ask game #my writing #this was my first time writing Fjord POV and it's been a While since ive studied his voice so!! hope I did our boy ok. and if not hes drunk

[critter-genfic-events]

Misunderstandings: A Critical Role Rec List

Hey everyone! This week we have seven amazing fics that are all about misunderstandings. Additionally, we have a couple of announcements down at the end of the post, so please check those out. Recs under the cut, and as always, remember to comment or kudos if you liked them!

everything built may break by ZPumpkin (2157,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings:

Laudna in the aftermath of the Rock Incident.

Reccer says: This fic especially resonates given the amount of beautiful Laudna and Ashton moments we've seen since this incident. It's a wonderful look at Laudna's pain in the aftermath of her argument with Imogen.

No Respect by LilacConArtist (2212,Teen) Warnings: Descriptions of chronic pain Pairings: Ashton Greymoore & Imogen Temult

Ashton can handle themself. They can handle their pain. They won't slow the group down. They don't need anyone's help or pity.

Reccer says: I like the connection with different types of chronic pain between Imogen and Ashton

Two Weekends by BotchedExperiment (2463,Teen) Warnings: None Pairings: Beauregard & Jester, Beauregard/Yasha

A modern AU where Beau and Yasha have just started dating and Jester is feeling a little left out.

Reccer says: I've got a fondness for any fic that shows platonic relationships to be as important as romantic ones, and this is a short fluffy fic that explores that feeling of being left out.

Wrong by Moonsp1r1t (1594,Teen) Warnings: Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Kingsley Tealeaf

The Mighty Nein have trouble seeing Kingsley for who he really is. It gets to Kingsley

Reccer says: I like fics that treat Kingsley as his own person, even as it acknowledges how difficult it might be for the other Nein to not see Molly or Lucien.

Pyre of Lies by Swan_Song (6312,General) Warnings: None Pairings: The Mighty Nein & Verin Thelyss

Verin is informed of his brother's death. The Mighty Nein come to pay their respects, and hopefully clear up some misunderstandings.

Reccer says: It's got just the right amount of angst and misunderstanding for the situation

touchstone by fadewords (18223,Teen) Warnings: Dissociation, disordered eating Pairings: Nott & Caleb Widogast

An early Mighty Nein fic where Nott becomes ill. Caleb takes care of her.

Reccer says: It's wonderful hurt/comfort, with the rest of the nein trying to care for each other in their own way.

Wild Fried Rice by Multishipperlove (3059,General) Warnings: None Pairings: Caduceus Clay & Fjord

Fjord tries to impress Caduceus with a home cooked dinner on their first date, but quickly has to realise that more often then not, things do not go as planned. And as it turns out, almost setting his kitchen on fire is not the worst part of the evening. Or is it?

Reccer says: It's a cute story about getting over an embarrassing situation and meeting people where they are.

If you liked this rec list, follow along for more! We'll be posting a new list with a new theme each Monday. And if you would like to make a rec yourself, feel free to reach out to @professor-rye to request access to the submission form! 

Next week's theme: Keyleth of the Air Ashari! And what a time to celebrate the Tempest! It wasn’t planned, but it’s very fitting all the same! So gather your favorite Kiki gen fics and send them our way!

And lastly, just a couple of quick announcements! To start, I think I’d like to move the list from Monday to Wednesday, just for ease of posting and sending off reminders. I will also likely start posting a bit earlier in the day as well, but I’m not setting that in stone just yet. And then second, if you are looking for a community of writers to bounce ideas around and encourage each other while we work on our upcoming Gen Week fics, The Writer’s Corner discord server is open to adding more members! We also post reminders about the various Critter Gen Events there as well, among other cool writing activities. If that’s something you’re interested in, send me a message! 

Alrighty, that’s it for today! See you all next week!

#critter genfic rec lists #cr fan fic #critical role fan fiction #the mighty nein #bells hells #gen fic

[pocketgalaxies]

i know you're already familiar with the M9 by osmosis, gifs, art, and clips. but now that you are *really* taking them in, what are your first impressions?

ok let it be known that i'm writing this only 27 minutes into episode 2 and also with like maybe 1 hour to actually reflect on what happened in ep 1. i'm also 100% aware that these characters have barely taken shape at this point and will most certainly find more comfortable and well-established character pillars moving forward BUT since you asked

sorry for length,,

fjord: barely said anything in ep 1 so have almost no impression of him yet but excited to see how his apparent preference for standing back and Listening and Thinking will come into play later. also he's showing signs of being a huge himbo and he lets himself get dragged around by two very (differently) aggressive women so love him already

beau: SHE'S PERFECT, LOVE HER, NO NOTES. dkfjskdf ok but tbh she was not as standoff-ish and hostile as i expected from what other ppl have said, it was much more on the aloof side? kinda just like a constantly drunk frat boy (who still respects women) who has strong opinions about very specific things but will Not tell you what those things are or why she has these opinions and will punch you if you ask. anyway she's cool and hot thank you marisha ray

caleb: A Very Serious And Stinky Boy With A Fluffy Cat. do not have enough information to make further judgments at this time. i'm assuming liam will be playing his backstory elements veeery close to the vest so i'll wait until i get more

nott: honestly i have no fucking idea what to make of her sam riegel what the hell. she's clearly got a LOT going on and i don't understand any of it. anxiety? constantly on guard? but also dependent on alcohol?? occasionally feels an uncontrollable compulsion to steal from people? will go to crowded areas knowing that if she is identified as a goblin terrible things will happen? Strange. i don't understand it. YET

jester: i definitely knew the most about jester's personality going into this so no surprises there, she is simply wonderful. like she is so inherently lovable it's absurd. so much fun to watch laura have so much fun! she's so friendly but also like can be so rude but when she is, she's so genuine about it that you can't really do anything except brush it off and forgive her

molly: knew next to nothing about this man except for his design which is. HOT. still know next to nothing about him, will have to hold until more information comes in. also didn't realize he was irish until they discussed it on talks oops

yasha: GOD I LOVE HER DFSKDJFKSJDF SHE'S SO AWKWARD. HER CHARISMA IS 7. SHE IS A VERY TALL, VERY SCARY, VERY STRONG, VERY AWKWARD TEDDY BEAR WITH A VERY BIG SWORD. the way jester was like "we're friends now!!" and she was just like ".........ok." the way beau was like "i can't walk" and she was like "i'll carry you" the way they were like "we're nervous without our weapons" and she was like "i'll sit next to you for the show so that they're near you" that says it all god i love her

#anonymous #ask #answered #critical role #cr2 #cr lb #r: mighty nein

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Sixteen things I noted about CR2E115 “Fetching Fables & Frosty Friends” and the Talks Machina about it :

Whyyyyy French again ??? At least I know Sam knows a little French, so I'm somehow less offended when it's him. But yeah at the of the ad, I felt this screenshot IN MY SOUL :

Matt, to Travis, about Beau who's running way ahead of Fjord : "She's a monk, she's faster than you." Travis, immediately and petulantly : "You don't know that !" Matt, not impressed, deadpan : "Yes. I do. It's on her character sheet."

I love Dagen so much. He tries to do a little bit of polite conversation, and Veth is like "Are you asking if anyone of us is single ?" and Jester doubles down with "Are you secretly in love with me ?", and then he calls them "colorful". He has worked with Vess and Ludinus before, so yeah that must be a change of pace for him.

Dagen, recalling the worst group he ever traveled with : "There was this rowdy bunch out of Syrinlya, Uthodurnian folk. Too boisterous. Too loud. When you're trying to make your way across landscape like this, you want to keep quiet. Just a bunch of fucking dwarves singing about what they had for breakfast, about what they had for lunch, tales of mysteries to the north ! They had beautiful voices, but they just wouldn't shut the fuck up. One day we got ambushed and they all got torn apart. I was the only survivor... I just feel bad for the poor halfling they dragged along." Me slowly realizing Matt is describing the first Hobbit movie : AMAZING !!

Caleb, 20 minutes after Veth and Jester started getting real with Dagen and are creating what I can only describe as an elaborate fan-fiction of Dagen and one of the travelers possibly named Sheila he might have fallen in love with - and named his axe after : "Hey, are we the worst ones yet ?" Dagen, through gritted teeth : "Gettin' real close..."

Laura looks so cute with her unicorn hoodie on.

Love that they knew they were messing with POWERFUL NECROTIC MAGIC, and that Liam pointed out that this kind of trap "pivoted the entire campaign one" (which to me was a clear indication that he wanted to do it, because this is Liam and he loves this kind of stuff). And still they went for it. For an hour. Man, did Caleb try. The last attempt, dramatically casting Dispel Magic while walking away, because he couldn't let it go, and still the stone rests, is an very funny visual.

Oh Beau read Yasha's poem ! Which was not a poem, but a wonderful letter. I love how Marisha was overjoyed as Ashley was reading it (as the voiceover).

Oh my god, the story of the Katzen Prince is everything. The revelation that Liam wrote that in a day, just before they were paying, is the cherry on top. Look, I fucking love fairy tales, and I had a book when I was young where it was all of the original versions (aka the dark endings, and even when it was a good ending for the hero, there were some brutal elements, like when birds pierce the eyes of Cinderella’s half-sisters at the end !!). So I LOVED this tale !!! It was sweet, melancholic, had a dream-like quality to it, and still a happy ending. I also want to see all of the art.

Awwww, I love when the monsters turn out not-so-monstery after all ! The Mighty Nein chose to be kind, even after they were ambushed, and so they got precious intel : finally, someone saw Lucien and his group, not but one day ago !!!

Travis broke. They invited the yetis to dinner in Caleb's tower, and they even read them a Zemnian bedtime story, and it broke Travis so much. This is so awesome. I love this visual of 4 yetis, being inside a magic tower, in a grand and warm hall, under tents for them to sleep like they usually do, surrounded by small cats and the Mighty Nein, listening to a man reading them a story in a language they don't know, and falling asleep in 5 minutes.

I trust Beau, Beau is always right and she should say it. And the way Marisha made her pitch was wholesome.

It's true, Brian is right to recall it, every time there is a Talks Machina with Liam and Taliesin, the vibe is "whatever the fuck is the opposite of toxic masculinity" - I think it's what he called it one time.

Dani is being tortured this episode, what will all the Fartist and chest hair re-growing stories.

Taliesin, about the pillar with the necromantic emerald : "I was amused. I could have possibly stayed a little longer... Until we had to resurrect someone !" HAHAHA the little shit (affectionate)

OH. Oh. This is the episode before the 2020 American election ? Aka, the Destiel Putin Election crazy night we had over here on Tumblr ??? IT'S SO CRAZY TO THINK ABOUT !!!

#my thoughts #critical role #cr campaign 2 #CR2E115

[grayintogreen]

Trigger Warning for Self harm question to do with Nonagon eyes. Please disregard if that makes you uncomfortable. But do you think the eyes could be harmed or removed at all? Like, Veth used acid on Beau's hand and it did nothing, but what if they tried a blade to cut it off? I would assume it would either be there after it healed or just appear in another place, but do you have any thoughts? Or what if they lopped Beau's hand off and regenerated it? Would it come back? Or elsewhere if no regen?

One of these days I won't respond to an ask with "Oh shit I wrote a fic about that" (or "oh shit now I have to write a fic about that"), but this is something I have thought about and briefly put into a fic.

The short answer is Matt said that they weren't removable until the Somnovem were defeated (or like... probably a Wish or a Divine Intervention maybe- I don't remember his exact words but the impression I got was NOTHING they had access to would have worked), like that's the Doylist answer. Matt wanted there to be a ticking clock on that whole thing once it started for Beau and Caleb.

Now the Watsonian longform answer which is all I actually care about and all most people care about is that no, they can't be harmed. Molly said they wouldn't take ink. Acid didn't work on them. I bet if you flayed the skin, you would just keep seeing the eyes on the muscle itself, all the way down to the bone just because of the body horror aspect (and that is if you could stand someone cutting a chunk out of your flesh that far). And if you cut the limb off? The eyes canonically move on Lucien- they likely would just migrate somewhere else.

Incidentally, we do know they can BLEED. They bleed when Molly uses his powers for some reason even if the eyes and his blood hunter abilities aren't connected- though to be fair, he has a couple of them on or near major arteries so that might have been just an aesthetic thing- the Somnovem are slaves to aesthetics, I guess. (Age of Arcanum thing, cannot be destroyed by a hivemind.) Molly also has been known to use his blades to activate his swords where the eyes are- specifically, I remember he runs them across the back of his neck VERY distinctly and they don't scar over.

It makes you wonder if Molly, who has a TON of scar tissue and a very high pain tolerance ever tried to cut them out when he realized they wouldn't be covered up with tattoos or possibly believed that if he puts his blades to them enough times that one day they might start scarring over.

#my asks #tw: gore #tw: self-harm #tw: amputation #holy shit there's a lot to trigger warning on this post #still a good question anon! #I love it

[tarydarrington]

"Alright, everyone," Veth says with authority, and everyone else quiets down. "Tomorrow is the big day."

Caleb sighs and ducks behind his drink. There is a speech coming. This is exactly the sort of ceremony he had hoped to avoid by having this get-together at his home rather than the bar Veth had suggested. It's only five of them, tonight; Beauregard and Yasha are always in town, and Veth had insisted on coming. And Essek, of course. He's not sure when the elf's presence at his side became an of course, but in a careful way, he likes it.

“As the person in this world who cares the most about Caleb--”

Essek silently quirks an eyebrow at that, and it doesn’t get past Veth.

“Alright, come on, just because you got him into bed and I didn’t doesn’t mean--”

Caleb clears his throat loudly, and Veth’s smile snaps back into place.

“As Caleb’s oldest, dearest, truest friend,” she says, and Essek manages to look dignified even while rolling his eyes, “it is my humble duty to tell you all how amazing he is on this momentous occasion.”

“You know, I am starting a new job, not getting married,” Caleb murmurs in her direction.

“And we’re all very proud of you!” Veth replies.

Caleb takes a long drink as the others chime in with agreement. Yasha shoots him a sympathetic look, and he returns a tight smile.

“Come on, man,” Beau says from where she leans against the table, “aren’t you excited, at all?”

He takes a long breath. Excited is a word for it. Ready to vomit at a moment’s notice is perhaps more accurate. The Soltryce Academy is tricky. He’s been back there a few times in recent weeks, for interviews and preparation, and each time, it’s felt like walking through a dream of a place the mind could not quite capture properly.

For whatever purpose, Trent has always wanted Caleb - Bren - to follow in his footsteps. Those footsteps feel a touch too literal in those hallways.

“Caleb?” Beau’s voice brings him out of his thoughts. “You still with us?”

He shakes his head. "Ja. Entschuldigung. There is a lot to think about."

Veth lowers her glass, frowning. "Nobody threatened you, did they? Because I'll have words with them."

"No, nothing like that." Not lately, anyway. He sets his own drink down on the table. "Just a bit worried, perhaps."

"Worried about what?" Beau asks flatly.

Caleb lets out a long breath, looking down at the floor. Where to begin? He’s worried that everything will go wrong. Worried that he’ll turn up with his clothes on backwards, or spill coffee down the front of his shirt, or trip over his words before the lesson even starts. Worried, most of all, about what comes after.

“I hope that I will not…” He searches for the right words. “I hope that I will be able to serve my students well enough,” he settles on. “The examples I have had were, ah….” Trent Ikithon is not one he wishes to emulate.

Essek frowns. “Carve your own path,” he says. “Someone as brilliant as you are needs no one to emulate.”

“Ja, well, that is fine for throwing together a spell or two, but I imagine the students will need a little more structure.” These are young minds. Any mistakes he makes will stick with them. He, of all people, knows just how much.

“Maybe you could ask them what they want from you,” Yasha pipes up. “You know, make sure you’re doing alright.”

Caleb lets out a long sigh. “Ja, maybe. That is a good idea.” Of course, it also requires that the students in question trust him enough to give him a straight answer.

They sit in relative silence for a moment, working away at their drinks. He hopes Veth doesn’t resent him for stepping on the atmosphere.

“Seriously, man, you’re gonna be great.” Beau knocks back the rest of her drink. “You’re already the best professor I’ve ever known.”

“I do not think the owl counts as a point of comparison,” Caleb deadpans. “Regardless, I will settle for not making a fool of myself for a first impression. That will be difficult enough.”

Beau shrugs, and reaches over to refill her glass. There’s a devious look in her eye that makes him nervous. "So why don't you practice?" she asks.

Caleb looks at her warily. "Practice?"

"Yeah, man." She gestures at the others. "Here's your class. Teach us something."

Before he can object, she’s already begun to pull an armchair toward the coffee table in the center of the room. Soon enough, three more seats have joined it, all on the same side. She throws her arms wide with a challenging grin.

“First day,” she says. “Don’t be late.” With that, she flops down onto the rightmost chair.

Transfixed in bemusement, Caleb watches as Yasha and Veth rush to occupy the next two seats in the makeshift classroom. The Expositor commands a room, it seems.

“Are you comfortable with this?” Essek murmurs as he brushes past as well. “I am willing to be the, ah... wet blanket, if need be.”

Caleb sighs, briefly twining their fingers together and squeezing once before letting him go. “Not comfortable, no, but it’s not a bad idea.”

Someone wolf whistles from the peanut gallery, and Caleb turns a fond glare on them all. All three of them are, of course, the picture of innocence. He shakes his head as Essek settles down primly in the last remaining chair. It’s not exactly the picture of an academic setting, with their glasses of half-finished booze still on the table in front of them and the lot of them draped over armchairs and ottomans.

“Alright,” says Beau, who has not even bothered to put her drink down. She makes a trilling sound that he thinks is probably meant to emulate a school bell. “Hit us.”

"We will be brutally honest," Veth promises. "Which means we will tell you honestly how perfect you are."

"Or if there's anything you could do better," Yasha adds.

Caleb stares back at them. It’s nothing he hasn’t gone over in his own head a hundred times. Even once or twice, to a captive audience of cats. It’s a short class. It will be over before he knows it.

The others look up at him expectantly. Watching him. Waiting. Caleb clears his throat.

"I, ah... feel a bit silly,” he admits.

Without a word, Essek waves a hand, and the familiar faces before him shift to those of strangers.

It’s almost embarrassing how much it helps. Caleb takes a deep breath and lets it out, running through the lesson plan in his head.

"Guten Morgen, class, I am, ah… Professor Widogast." It's the first time he's said that particular pair of words out loud.

"Whoo!" the student who is not Veth shouts.

"Yeah!" the student who is not Beau chimes in.

Caleb gives them a look and straightens his coat. "This is Introductory Transmutation, in room 142, so if you are all in the correct place--"

"Professor?" The student who is not Yasha raises her hand.

"Ah, ja, Miss…"

"Lionett."

Not-Beau slaps a hand over her own mouth and mutters, “Holy shit,” into it.

“Was that too much?” not-Yasha whispers.

“Babe, it was so hot,” not-Beau hisses back.

Caleb clears his throat. "Miss Lionett, do you have a question?"

Not-Yasha seems to suddenly remember her role, and she folds her hands in her lap. "No," she says, "I have to use the bathroom."

Caleb pinches the bridge of his nose as not-Beau bites back a giggle. “Ja, okay, go.”

“Don’t let her go!” not-Veth interjects. “She knew it was almost time for class; she should have gone earlier.”

“Dude, if she has to pee then she has to pee,” not-Beau protests.

Pointedly, not-Essek raises his hand.

Caleb lets himself sigh with relief. “Ja, Master…?”

“Gross, Professor, we don’t need to know about your weird sex dynamics,” not-Beau says.

Not-Essek’s face blooms red, and Caleb presses a hand to his face to hide the same. “You know very well, Beauregard, that it is an honorific.”

Not-Beau shrugs, looking very pleased with herself as she takes another sip of her drink. Not-Essek glares very polite daggers at her before clearing his throat.

“Thelyss,” he answers.

Beau cups both hands around her mouth and boos.

“No, it’s better that he’s honest,” Veth says. “We already know he’s a terrible actor.”

“Herr Thelyss,” Caleb says, raising his voice above the heckling. “Do you have a question?”

Essek leans forward, resting his elbows on the table in a gesture that’s much too endearing. “I wondered what you will be teaching us today, Professor Widogast.”

Caleb tries not to dwell on the way the title hits differently on Essek’s voice, instead straightening up and waving one hand behind him. An illusory chalkboard appears in the air behind him to polite applause from Veth and Yasha. Back on track.

“Well, this is your first day,” he says. “So I know that - Beauregard, please remove your feet from the table - I know that most of your other teachers will be spending time going over the material that you will be covering this semester, but, ah…” What is he meant to be doing with his hands? They feel limp if they’re at his sides, but too formal behind his back and too awkward in front of him. Perhaps he should have a lectern? Somewhere to rest them, or shuffle with papers?

His gaze drifts back to his “students,” who all blink back at him expectantly. Essek inclines his head as though to prompt him on. He clasps his hands in front of his chest, hoping it will do for now.

“Right,” he continues. “Ja, so I thought we would take a look at something more practical to start. We will leave the reading for tomorrow; you have enough of that today.”

He waves his hands again, and behind him, a set of runes and diagrams appears on the chalkboard. Above it is written the word Prestidigitation.

“So, ah, partner up,” he orders. “Introduce yourselves. If there is someone on their own, a group of three is perfectly acceptable.”

“I call Miss Lionett,” Beau shouts, grabbing Yasha’s hand.

“Can I go to the bathroom, first?” Yasha asks.

Caleb gives her an incredulous look.

“I really do need to go,” she says.

He gestures towards the hallway, and she shuffles off. In the meantime, Veth and Essek scoot their chairs closer together. Caleb’s gaze lingers questioningly on Beau, who shakes her head.

“She’s not learning anything tonight, man. Go ahead.”

“Ja, okay,” he says distantly.

It feels silly, explaining the spell to this motley crew. Beau has leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, eyes glassy, clearly not paying an ounce of attention. Essek has produced a piece of paper upon which Veth occasionally scribbles, though the way he periodically nods approval at Caleb’s points betrays his own prior knowledge of the subject. After a few minutes, Yasha returns and attempts to take down notes of her own.

“Is everyone following along?” he asks after a while, knowing it’s a futile question.

“Yep,” Beau lies.

“Hmm.” Yasha hums.

“Perfectly,” Essek says.

“You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” Veth confirms with a wink.

He continues, running them through the various applications one by one. Beau gives him an occasional “uh huh” that he believes not one bit. At one point, he catches Essek take a passing glance at Veth’s paper, widen his eyes, and lean forward to murmur something to her. He isn’t sure he wants to know what that’s about.

“Let’s keep focused, please, everyone,” he reminds them.

Essek waves a hand to signal him to continue. Nothing too scandalous, then. He goes through the final few points, then comes to stop in front of the chalkboard, hands awkwardly clasped again.

“Okay, that is it,” he says. “You have as much time as you require to finish the spell, and when you are finished, I would like one person from each group to demonstrate.”

He gives the others a questioning look. It’s one of the points he’s most worried about. A way to take pressure off some of the slower students could just as easily be a way to unintentionally foster competition and resentment. But none of them objects, so he gives them another nod.

“I suppose we should skip the demonstration portion,” he mumbles.

“I can do it,” Yasha chirps. Without warning, she swings the massive greatsword from her back and sinks the tip into the table, making the others jump. “I made a small mark.”

Caleb covers his eyes with one hand. “Ja, will it go away in one hour?”

Yasha silently places her drink down over the indentation. Caleb sighs. It isn’t as though he has very many guests, anyway.

“I can probably swing producing an odor, for you,” Beau offers. “But I figure you probably don’t want that.”

He ignores her, and instead gives Essek a tight smile.

“Well, would my second group care to demonstrate?”

Beau jerks a thumb in Essek’s direction and fake-coughs to Yasha, “Teacher’s pet.”

Essek ignores her and sits back, fingers working in those little patterns he draws when something has piqued his curiosity. “I believe so,” he says, and nods to Veth.

Caleb raises his eyebrows as all eyes turn to Veth. Though Essek had the courtesy to leave her a halfling, her features and coloring are entirely different - but that wide smile as she stands and rubs both hands together would give her away, no matter the face it was set in. And as Beau swears under her breath, Yasha and Caleb look on wide-eyed, and Essek watches with a smirk, she pulls her hands apart to let loose a shower of sparks.

“You… learned the spell,” Caleb says numbly. He hadn’t imagined any of them were actually paying attention.

“It was an excellent lesson!” Veth replies.

As she takes her seat again, Beau and Yasha give her a smattering of stunned applause. Essek clears his throat pointedly.

“And I guess, maybe, Essek gave me one pointer,” Veth amends with an eye-roll.

“Hey, so your partner system worked,” Yasha points out.

It had. The lesson had worked, the procedure had worked - his teaching had worked. There’s still a little voice in his head reminding him that Veth is brilliant, and an adult, and perfectly capable of learning things like this without even so much as his help - but he can’t deny that it’s his guidance that taught her this particular spell. ‘An excellent lesson,’ Veth had said. In this moment, he’s inclined to believe it might be half true. Caleb realizes very suddenly that he’s beaming.

With a snap of his fingers, Essek dispels the disguises. The soft smile on his face - his real face, and Caleb always misses it dearly when it’s hidden - says he hasn’t failed to notice Caleb’s relief.

“Danke, all of you,” he says sheepishly, waving a hand to vanish the chalkboard.

“Thank you!” Veth says. “For the shiny new spell and for the masterclass in professoring.”

“You were really good,” Yasha agrees. “I’m, uh... I’m sorry about the table.”

He dips his head to hide the way his face is flushing. They exaggerate, the lot of them. But there is something to be said for having friends who will say such things. “Ja, well,” he says, “I am not convinced it will translate to an actual class, but I will hope.”

Beau takes another swig of her drink, wiping her mouth afterwards. “Dude, we were the worst and you still managed to teach somebody something,” she says. “Those kids have nothing on us. You got this.”

He offers her a smile, retrieving his glass from the table as Yasha, Veth, and Essek do the same. He hopes it’s true. He hopes that, separate entirely from his ability to teach them the how of magic, he will be able to keep them safe. That he will be able to keep from passing on any damage he received in his own time in those halls.

He catches Essek’s eye, and the knowing look there puts some of the anxious buzzing to rest. He will be better. He will struggle, most likely. He will stumble, inevitably. But he will give better than he got. He’s been practicing that part for years.

“To Professor Widogast!” Veth shouts, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Professor Widogast,” the others echo, and Caleb smiles.

“To my very good friends,” he replies.

“To the hottest professor the Soltryce Academy has ever seen,” Veth shouts in response, and Caleb nearly chokes on his drink when Essek casually clinks his glass against hers with a nod.

They drink together. Caleb thinks, just a little bit, he might be excited.

-

thanks @peregrintook for reading this over and telling me it wasn't the worst thing i had ever written (in much more generous words than that), and @saturdaysky for catching me red-handed last time i deleted it and being so kind about it 💜

#okay here's the strategy. i posted a ficlet i'm happy with last week and i finished another one i'm happy with yesterday #so if i sandwich this in between the two surely i will not believe i am entirely worthless as a writer because of it #...probably #queueing it to post when i'm not home to physically wrench my hand away from the delete post button #shadowgast #background beauyasha #caleb widogast #mine #mine:fic #caleb #essek #veth #beau #yasha

[chaos-burst]

questions and answers

He had meant to be rude. And it had not worked even a little bit. Eodwulf is sure that anyone else would have been offended. Hell, he’s even sure that the other members of this weird group were absolutely offended on behalf of their friend. But Eodwulf can’t say he has ever met a person like this.

There was no malice, no ill intent, no anger.

When you work with Trent you have to be aware of every little shift in the mood. The slightest twitch of an eyebrow can mean the weather is about to turn foul. Eodwulf knows what to look out for. It had been his intent to rev this weirdo up and it had backfired spectacularly.

Damn.

No meat. No booze. And balls of steel, apparently. Eodwulf had never seen anyone talk to Trent like that. And while Bren‘s—Caleb‘s—words of wanting to kill Trent outright had been more than Eodwulf would ever admit to his mentor, it somehow felt less crazily reckless than to call Trent Ikithon, Archmage of Civil Influence for the Cerberus Assembly and one of the most powerful mages in the Empire, a fucking fool.

To his face. With a smile. In a complete sincere manner.

Eodwulf doesn’t want to replay the words in his head over and over again but his dumb brain has latched onto them and he can’t stop. Only this time it’s not one of Trent’s lessons that forces him to obsessively repeat something until you have internalized it to the point where you can cite it in your sleep.

No.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people.“

Eodwulf has it on repeat in his head the whole way back to the tower and it is still going when he lies down hours later to sleep.

“What are you“ had not been meant as a serious question when Eodwulf had asked it. But by the time he finally falls asleep he feels like it has become a very vital question indeed, because who or what would dare to speak to Master Trent Ikithon in a way like this with an honest smile on their face.

*

Because for some reason his thoughts have decided to betray him, Eodwulf’s brain makes his tongue and lips form the words again when they see the Mighty Nein the next time. This time, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited to dinner—Trent has very specifically not been invited, you could say he was uninvited with quite a few flowery words in a strange accent.

And as soon as Eodwulf sees Caduceus he remembers the weirdly polite scratching of a chair, the wide smile that indicates that this is a person Eodwulf possibly can not force to lose their composure through careful placed rudeness. And his mouth betrays him.

“So. What are you, really?“

Caduceus blinks mildly surprised before his unfamiliar features shift into a warm smile that has Eodwulf feel quite a lot of inappropriate things he didn’t expect to find in a place like this.

“Gardener. Maker of fine tea. A decent cook. Keeper of graves“, Caduceus lists of and he uses his long fingers to count the things that are important to him about himself.

“Very powerful cleric“, Jester chimes in from the right. She has Astrid next to her in a chair and Eodwulf is pretty sure that Jester has started to put flowers in Astrid’s hair. But surely he must be mistaken. Who in the Nine Hells are these crazy people?

“Oh, yeah. Well, that too, I suppose“, Caduceus says, his smile still warm like honeyed wine.

“Huh“, Eodwulf says because he can’t for the life of him think of something else to say. But Caduceus is yet again pulling out a chair for him so Eodwulf straightens his shoulders and sits down next to Caduceus. Across the table from him the angry one throws herself into a chair and stares at him.

There’s no fear there either, but she can be easily angered, something Eodwulf is good at. He gives her a canine smile and she holds up her middle finger.

This group is full of people with an enormous lack of self preservation.

And they are so loud.

Eodwulf almost doesn’t hear it when Caduceus turns to him to ask him a question.

“Huh?“, he says again, like a fool.

“And what are you, was what I wanted to know“, Caduceus says, his lazy grin open and honest. There is no malice in his words. He actually wants to know.

Eodwulf thinks “Murderer, wizard, protégé, spy“ but he doesn’t say any of these things. “Maker of graves“ comes to mind, but it seems like too dark of a joke to make.

“Enthusiastic about both meat and booze“, he says in the end and Caduceus laughs.

“Yeah, as are most of my friends.“

The implication these words bring is probably only in Eodwulf’s mind but it makes him swallow and look away to find Astrid’s eyes. But Astrid now has pink flowers in her hair and a look of absolute confusion on her face as Jester rattles of compliment after compliment about various of Astrid’s features.

Eodwulf can’t help but look at Bre—Caleb. And he sees that there is a soft, barely noticeable smile on his old friend’s face as he watches the scene unfold.

What am I, indeed, he thinks.

*

Trent’s orders have been clear. Get close to the group called the Mighty Nein to find out what they are working on with Lady Vess DeRogna.

Eodwulf allows himself to think that Caduceus might have been right. Maybe Master Ikithon is indeed a fool.

Because being in the presence of these people is like nothing Eodwulf has ever experienced and it makes him think, wonder, question—

“Here we are again“, Caduceus says after, yet again, Astrid and Eodwulf have been invited for dinner. Eodwulf wonders if this group just wants to make it very easy to spy on them, or if they have an agenda of their own—but it’s hard to believe that there might be any coherent agenda behind anything these people do.

He has watched the buff one called Yasha try and play what looked like a harp made of bone and when the angry one, Beau, told her that she looked hot playing the harp Yasha had torn two of the strings which had led to a whole scene of apologies and various tries to fix the harp.

Jester has drawn dicks on pretty much every surface this magical mansion has and she delights in the fact that Caleb brings the dicks to life in various colors. At some point he made glowing sparkles shoot out of one of the dicks Jester had drawn and Jester had laughed as if this was the best joke she had ever witnessed.

Eodwulf notices Astrid’s eyes on Jester.

Eodwulf also notices that while there seems to be no agenda or efficiency behind anything, they are still being watched.

Beau and Fjord look at them. And Eodwulf is pretty sure Caduceus watches everything as well, but he does it without crossing his arms and glaring so much.

“Looks like it”, he answers. Caduceus offers him tea and Eodwulf’s first instinct is to decline, but then he remembers that “maker of fine tea” had been very high on the list of descriptors so he takes the cup he is offered while somewhere in the background people start screaming something that sounds like “FLUFFERNUTTER”.

Eodwulf tries the tea. He’s not a fan of tea, but this tea is absolutely delicious and he finds himself impressed.

“I believe this one comes from the Hollburns’ graves. Those remains made the tea grow quite fast, it was impressive.”

Eodwulf blinks at his tea and then at Caduceus. For a second his brain wonders if this statement should register as a threat, but it had been delivered with such honest delight and a sense of pride that Eodwulf discards that feeling.

“What?”, he asks. Caduceus points at the tea.

“Oh, well, my family grows tea on those graves we’re keeping. In case you wanted to ask me again what I am. Or—hm, I think I already mentioned that I am a keeper of graves?”

Caduceus trails off and looks thoughtful and Eodwulf stares at him.

“Keeper of Graves. That make you a follower of the Matron?”, he asks.

Caduceus looks at him and smiles.

“Not quite. My family serves Melora. But we are descended from a champion of the Raven Queen.”

Eodwulf can’t help but wonder if this was some kind of weird joke. But his goddess usually isn’t one for joking.

Eodwulf considers for a second, then he pulls out the raven feather pendant from under his cloak.

Caduceus nods. “So”, he says and smiles widely. “What are you?”

Eodwulf snorts.

“For real?”, he says.

Caduceus’ smile widens.

“For real.”

*

It feels like this has become a sort of game.

“What are you?”

“Moral compass. Middle sibling. Eccentric. Amateur flute player.”

Eodwulf finds that through this question he himself posed the first time, he’s been forced to think more about himself than he feels comfortable with.

“What are you?”

“Decent chess player. Dog person. Sportsman. Only child.”, are the things he says out loud.

“Self-made orphan. Patriot. Volstrucker. Torturer.”, are the things he thinks to himself.

Eodwulf has the impression that Caduceus is somehow aware of the things he doesn’t say.

*

“So. This is the crew you’re running with now?”, Eodwulf asks Bre—Caleb one night before the Mighty Nein will leave with Vess DeRogna to who-knows-where. Neither Astrid nor Eodwulf did get very far with their planned infiltration work. Eodwulf is not even sure how hard they even tried.

It’s very easy to get swept away by the chaos and the weirdness and the complete lack of fear that the group displays when it comes to him and Astrid. They are dangerous people in a lot of ways.

The Mighty Nein are also dangerous people in a very different way. A way that Eodwulf doesn’t know anything about.

“This is my family, ja.”

He says it, just like that, without looking at Eodwulf.

Family.

The word tastes bitter in Eodwulf’s mouth as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.

“Weird people”, he says. Caleb huffs.

“You can say that, yes. But they grow on you very quickly”, he answers quietly and with a small, fond smile that makes something inside Eodwulf ache. For a long time Eodwulf pitied Bren for breaking, for not making it, for failing, for being locked away and discarded. Now he realizes that maybe, in a very macabre sort of way, Bren becoming Caleb through failure was the better end of the bargain.

It feels blasphemous to think that.

“The pink one is especially weird”, Eodwulf finds himself saying and he takes a big swig of whiskey from his flask before handing it to Caleb.

“Ja, I noticed that you seem to have a... uh... particular kind of interest in him. And, if I may add, he in you.”

Eodwulf takes the flask back after Caleb drinks. He contemplates the different sorts of feelings inside his gut as the words sink in. Then he tucks it all away very carefully, just as he learned through many years of being in Trent’s presence.

“Still don’t know what he is”, Eodwulf says. Caleb snorts and shakes his head.

“His people are called Firbolg”, he provides.

“Not sure that’s what I mean. Not anymore, at least.”

It seems dangerous to admit that. Caleb turns his head and looks at Eodwulf with a shimmer in his eyes that Eodwulf can’t read. Many years ago he was able to read Bren like an open book, but Caleb is another book entirely.

“You deserve to have some nice things, you know. You deserve friends. A chance of—hm. A chance of peace. A chance for redemption, if you want it.”

Eodwulf gets up and tugs away his flask.

“Pain doesn’t make people. It’s love that makes people. Pain is inconsequential, it’s love that saves them.”

Eodwulf understands the truth in these words now. Bren was broken, Caleb is being healed. Eodwulf doesn’t think that there’s anything left in him that can be saved. Or should be saved.

“Good luck on your journey tomorrow. Don’t die”, Eodwulf says and he leaves Caleb behind.

What are you, he thinks. A sentimental fool.

*

Astrid sits next to him on one of the balconies of her house and looks up at the stars above them. The Mighty Nein have been gone for six days and it has been very quiet.

They sit in silence and share a bottle of whiskey, passing it back and forth instead of words. It’s been like this for many many years that they’ve allowed themselves to just be. Today though, Astrid breaks the silence.

“I’m going to be the one who kills him.”

She says it quietly, without remorse, without indicating that this is a scandalous statement. She says it just how other people would say “I’ll go to bed soon.”.

Eodwulf stops breathing for just a moment. Then he inhales the cool night air and turns his head to look at her.

“Could kill you for treason”, he says. She looks at him and cocks her head slightly, the analyzing gaze of a murderous spy meets its equal in silence.

“I’d love to see you try”, she says. Eodwulf grins. It feels reckless.

“Don’t die”, he says, the same thing he’s said to Caleb before. Astrid regards him for a long moment and Eodwulf takes another sip. “Will you help me or try to stop me?”

Eodwulf considers this for a moment. Would he try to stop Astrid should she try to kill Trent? No. Would he help her? He doesn’t know that either.

“Can’t you just wait for Bren to do it for you?”

“I won’t lose to him again.”

Eodwulf snorts.

Always so competitive.

“That’s some fucked up shit, Astrid.”

“Shut up, Arschloch.”

Eodwulf grins before getting up to stretch. He puts his hands on the railing of Astrid’s balcony and wonders what Caleb’s new family is up to.

Making a new family never came to mind before. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale. While he contemplates the question whether he would help Astrid kill Trent Ikithon, a slow, familiar voice pops up in his head.

“Hey. Uh—Jester told me to send you an update. We’re still alive. Hope you’re good. Got  a new question for you. What will you become?”

The rustling of Astrid’s clothes as she stands up as well somehow tells him that she received a message in her head as well. She steps beside him and puts her hands on the railing next to his.

“They’re persistent”, she says quietly.

Eodwulf nods and inhales.

He doesn’t know what he will become. He didn’t even know that was a question to be asked. The path is clear. It always was.

Pain doesn’t make people.

“Not going to answer?”, she wants to know.

“Don’t have an answer yet.”

It’s unclear to him whether she means her own question or the message Caduceus just sent him.

He answers the sending spell with a simple “I don’t know.”. It takes a few minutes before another message comes in.

“That’s good. Uncertainty is good. It’s the first step in a better direction. I’m going to kill a dragon now. Wish me luck. Good night.”

“I’ll keep you posted on the answer to that question of yours. I’ll see you tomorrow”, he says and leaves Astrid behind on the balcony. Eodwulf thinks about something he hasn’t thought about in a very long time. A priestess in his Matron’s temple once told him: “Death is the only certainty in life.”.

He thinks that Caduceus would agree.

And Eodwulf hopes that the next time he sees that weird, reckless man, he’ll have an answer for him.

#cadwulf #blumengrove #caduceus clay #critfic #critical role #eodwulf #cr spoilers #fanfiction #caduceus #text #screeching into the void #this got a bit out of hand #but i just wanted to get some stuff out of my system

[beauregardlionett]

i think i might understand the concept of home

AO3 Link

Yasha’s car had broken down on the side of the road in some tiny town she only meant to pass through. She hadn’t even read the welcome sign half-a-mile back, so gods knew where she was. Thankfully, there was a shoulder and a sidewalk, so she wasn’t stuck in the middle of traffic. She had the hood popped and stared helplessly down at the tangle of mechanics she did not understand.

Nothing was smoking, so she figured that must be a good thing.

“Need a hand?”

Yasha glanced up, catching sight of a woman standing just outside the coffee shop Yasha broke down in front of. She stood defined in the sunlight, composed of sharp lines and lean muscle, contained by planes of smooth, coffee-colored skin. She had on a simple grey sports bra under denim overalls littered with stains and distressed patches torn in random places on the legs. Her hair was in a low bun sat over what looked like an undercut all tucked messily beneath a backward cap.

Damn...she was hot.

The woman cocked an expectant eyebrow, reminding Yasha she had yet to answer.

“Oh, um...yes?”

Hot Lady smirked and stepped off the curb to stand at Yasha’s shoulder, leaning over the open hood and inspecting the mess. Yasha was busy inspecting the tanned slope of neck to bare shoulder, all of her quite a sight in the midday sunlight.

Gods, was that a tattoo on her back?

With abrupt yet easy precision, Hot Lady hauled herself up onto the lip of Yasha’s truck and shoved her hand between various pieces of metal. Startled, Yasha looked down at the engine, hoping she wouldn’t have to call emergency services for a hand lost in her car engine.

“The alternator might be shot,” Hot Lady said, squinting as she moved her hand around a little.

“What does that mean?” Yasha managed, only a little strangled.

“Means you need to get your car into a shop because you aren’t going to have much luck getting far without it.” Hot Lady removed her hand and gave a little hop back down to the pavement. She wiped her hand carelessly on her overalls and shrugged a little.

“It’s not a super challenging thing to fix, but it will take a minute. I can point you to a good garage if you need.”

“That would be very helpful. Thank you...um...”

“Beauregard,” the woman said, sticking out her hand with a grin. “Call me Beau.”

After hesitating a moment, Yasha grasped Beau’s hand and gave it a tentative shake, cheeks warm. Her face flushed even warmer when Beau raised her eyebrow again, clearly waiting for Yasha’s name.

“Yasha,” she blurted, horrid awkwardness muddying her chest. “I’m Yasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Yasha,” Beau said as she slowly took her hand back. Yasha already like the way her name sounded rolling off of Beau’s tongue - perhaps far too much for someone she just met.

“You might need to shack up somewhere for the night,” Beau said, pulling her phone from her pocket and texting someone. “Depending on how long the garage takes with your car. I haven’t seen you ‘round here before. You got a place to stay?”

“Oh...no,” Yasha managed. “I’m just passing through.”

“Well, I texted my buddy over at the garage to come get your car. He’ll be here soon. There’s only one hotel in this town, and to be honest, it sucks. My buddy Caleb moved most of his stuff out of his apartment, but he hasn’t turned the lease over yet. He got a big wig job two hours from here and they had him start early, despite the fact he still had a month on the lease. You can crash there if you want. I’m pretty sure he left his mattress.”

Yasha blinked, dazed and flabbergasted at the turn this conversation had taken.

“I...what?”

Beau looked up from her phone, fingers pausing in their rapid texting. She seemed to take in Yasha’s stunned expression and grimaced slightly.

“Sorry, that was a lot all at once.” Beau tucked her phone away and crossed her arms over her chest. Yasha recognized the defensive tactic attempting to look casual with ease. She performed that move often enough herself.

“This ‘helping’ thing isn’t my forte - more Jess’ thing. But uh...yeah. If you need a place to stay, you’ve got one. Promise there're no strings attached or anything like that.”

“But...you don’t know me.”

“True,” Beau shrugged. “But it’s not like there’s anything to steal from Caleb’s place. It’s basically an empty apartment he’s not getting anything out of. Might as well put the place to good use.”

“Okay,” Yasha said after a moment of strange quiet. What else was she supposed to say?

Beau blinked up at Yasha, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Cool.”

A few minutes later, a tow truck pulled up. Beau greeted the driver enthusiastically as Yasha watched on, wondering what she had gotten herself into.

--

“This is it,” Beau said, shoving open the door with her hip as she wrestled the key out of the lock.

Yasha followed Beau in, fingers curled tightly around the strap of her meager duffle bag. The apartment was near barren, as Beau had said. It had a small living area that faded seamlessly into a kitchenette. Down a short hallway appeared to be a bedroom and bathroom, both doors open. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. The only sign someone had recently been occupying the space was the old mattress just visible through the bedroom door and the sagging sofa in the living room.

“Sorry there’s no food in the kitchen, but there’s a store about a block from here if you’re up for a walk. I’d hang around but I have to get to a class.”

Yasha twisted to look at Beau, something bubbling up in her chest that felt a lot like gratitude and a little like something indescribable. She watched as Beau fiddled with her key ring, only realizing what was happening when Beau pulled a key off and tossed it to Yasha. She just barely managed to catch it and not make a fool of herself.

“That’s the key to the door for ya. And,” Beau pulled a crumpled, folded piece of paper from her pocket, holding it out to Yasha. “My number, in case you have questions or you need anything. I’m a night owl and an early riser, so chances are I’ll answer whenever.”

“Thank you,” Yasha warbled after a long moment, clutching the key so hard the grooves of its identity imprinted into her palm. The notches stung like she would never forget their shape. “I mean it. This is...a lot.”

Beau rubbed the back of her neck, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the worn floorboards. “It’s nothin’ really...”

“No,” Yasha insisted. “It’s a lot. Thank you.”

Beau’s gaze met Yasha’s intense stare, her bright blue eyes wide as they took in Yasha’s sincerity. A handful of seconds stretched into eternity before Beau ducked her head, rubbing at the back of her neck.

“Yeah...sure.”

Yasha was getting the impression she wasn’t the only one completely out of her depth in this situation.

“I’ll come around tomorrow with updates...bye.”

Yasha watched her duck out the door, disappearing down the hallway before she shut the door behind Beau and clicked the lock.

--

The garage had Yasha’s car fixed and ready to go after two days. Yasha was still in town three months later.

In all honesty, she’s not sure how it happened.

The night she planned to leave, Beau had swung by and insisted on seeing her off. They ended up at a diner, tucked into a booth, talking like they actually knew each other. Next thing Yasha realized, it was nearing midnight, and they were being asked to wrap up so the diner could close. The chef had called to them from the window, an older looking man with bright pink hair who gave Beau a knowing look and a wink.

Somehow, that unplanned extra night turned into months. Yasha had taken on the lease from the absent Caleb for his apartment. She found a job at the local florist, a job she quietly enjoyed. The gravity of her situation only set in after she bought sheets for the mattress.

She met Jess - real name Jester, or Genevieve, but Yasha couldn’t sure - a bubbly girl with deep blue hair and the sweetest attitude ever. Her fingertips were permanently paint stained, and she left hastily sketched dicks everywhere she went. Yasha also met the tow truck driver from the first day, a guy named Fjord. They were a weird mix of individuals, but somehow they got on just fine. They ate dinner together every Thursday night at the same bar owned by the guy who tended the bar - one of those small town things. His name was Mollymauk - Molly for short and sometimes they instead of he - with inordinately purple hair and makeup to match.

Yasha never really spent a lot of time in her apartment. She didn’t see the point, not when she had access to the florist shop, or the diner, or anywhere else with Jess, Fjord, Molly, or Beau. Especially not when Jess’ apartment she shared with Fjord was so much warmer, much more like a home.

It took three months before Beau stopped mid-sentence of a story and blinked at Yasha over their pancakes in the diner.

“This is probably a stupid question, but did you have somewhere to be?”

Yasha looked up, confused. “Right now? Uh...no? My shift at the shop doesn’t start for another three hours.”

“No, no, I meant like outside this town. You told me you were passing through, before.”

“Oh,” Yasha set down her fork and looked out the window. Her chest felt tight. That afternoon seemed like a lifetime ago - a whole other person ago. “Not really.”

“Do...uhm,” Yasha looked over at Beau to find her pushing her food around her plate awkwardly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

This was difficult for both of them. If Yasha had learned anything in her time here, it was that they both struggled to convey their emotions eloquently. But that Beau tried meant everything to Yasha. The least she could do was meet her halfway.

“I was running, and I didn’t know where or when I would stop. But I guess this place is where I’m meant to be.”

“Why were you running?” Beau stared at her, gaze intense in a way Yasha found endearing. She watched like nothing else in the world could distract her.

“I...I had a wife. And I lost her rather abruptly almost six months ago. I tried to stay for a while, to keep what we had built together, but I wasn’t strong enough. So I ran and hoped that I would find something worth staying for again before I fell off the world.”

Beau stared at Yasha openly over their half-eaten breakfast, eyes wide.

“You stayed here. Does that mean you found something here?”

Yasha looked at Beau, at her messy bun and her undercut that needed a fresh shave. She took in the puddle of syrup, slowly saturating Beau’s pancakes and the half gone pile of bacon. Beau’s cellphone sat face down on the table so her attention stayed on Yasha. She realized the baggy sweater Beau had on was one Yasha had misplaced almost a month ago. Yasha lost her breath at the butterflies that fluttered to life in her stomach.

“I think so,” Yasha breathed, tethered and unhinged all at once.

--

They didn’t talk about it, because of course they didn’t.

But two weeks after their pancake conversation, Beau invited Yasha out for a night on the town. There were only two bars with decent night life here, and Yasha had been to both of them exactly once during her time here. (The daytime trips to Molly’s bar didn’t count, of course. She had only been to their bar for the night life once.)

She met Beau in the middle, and they walked together the rest of the way.

Beau had gotten her undercut shaved tight again, but it was hidden with the way her hair spilled loose and long down her back. She had a cobalt lace crop top on - the one with the built-in bra. The way it showed off the definition of her muscles was doing things to Yasha. The black cigarette pants didn’t help either.

A few drinks and way too many EDM songs later - or maybe only a few? Yasha couldn’t tell them apart - Yasha remained upright from adrenaline alone. Somewhere between the drinks and the beat of the music, Beau pressed up against Yasha, wiry arms winding around Yasha’s neck as they danced. Yasha wasn’t much of a dancer in any regard, but she was just tipsy enough to not care.

Beau’s hips fit comfortably in the space between Yasha’s hands, and Yasha resolutely tried not to follow that train of thought. For no other reason than she didn’t want to ruin a good thing, and there was no way Beau felt the same.

Beau pushed onto her toes, shiny black boots creasing with the motion as her lace top rode up her enticing torso.

“I really want to kiss you,” Beau called over the heavy thrum of the base. Her voice nearly got lost in the din, but Yasha heard her. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t. The weight of her heart dropping into her stomach hit too heavy and real to ignore.

Fuck, she wanted to kiss Beau, too.

Yasha’s t-shirt stuck to random parts of her torso with sweat, a detail she was now hyper-aware of with how little space existed between her and Beau. The press of bodies around them was abruptly unnerving. So much so, Yasha wound an arm around Beau’s shoulders and steered them both free, ducking into the hallway that lead to the bathrooms as Yasha gasped for air.

Beau leaned her back against the wall for support, peering at Yasha with far too much clarity for someone who could barely stand upright.

“Are you okay, Yash?” Her voice was quieter now that they had moved out of the main bar, but the base still pounded like a heartbeat through the floorboards.

With more confidence than Yasha would ever possess in her life, she caged Beau in, a hand on either side of her head against the wall. As Beau stared up at her with unabashed awe, Yasha’s face warmed with flushed embarrassment.

“I want to kiss you so bad.”

“Then do it,” Beau said. It sounded like a dare, but she said it as if she were asking permission.

With a quick swoop into Beau’s space, Yasha pressed her lips to Beau’s with the barest amount of pressure. A feather-light, electric brush of a promise, a question, and an invitation. Yasha moved no closer.

Beau leaned in, and as far as kisses went, it was simple. Neither of them surged toward the other, or grappled for purchase to deepen the embrace. It was an easy press of lips, testing the waters despite the alluring tug of the tide.

Tipsy seconds later, Beau pulled back first with a soft gasp. Yasha’s eyes fluttered open, and she felt like a cheesy teenager when she realized they had closed without her knowledge.

“Do you want to do this?” Beau asked, voice soft and a little wrecked despite the chaste kiss.

Yasha, never one for many words, gave a quick nod and ducked back in. It wasn’t confidence, more like the beginning of a realization.

Beau held onto her, this time hands back around Yasha’s neck and fingers tangled deep in Yasha’s wild hair. Yasha took one hand from the wall to cup the back of Beau’s head, fingers sliding easily over the short hairs of Beau’s undercut.

It wasn’t a fireball kiss, but it tasted like the whiskey shots they had done half an hour ago. Beau’s lips were soft and a stark contrast to the way she kissed Yasha. It wasn’t falling stars and fire lit in her chest, nor was it a cosmic shift of puzzle pieces snapping into place. As before, it was a realization, a revelation of something that might have been there for a while.

Beau kissed Yasha back, and she thought about pancakes at the diner and memorizing the way Beau’s eyes scrunched when she laughed. Yasha rubbed her thumb over Beau’s jawline and Beau’s sharp grin burst to life behind her eyelids. A tug to Yasha’s hair reminded her of Beau offering to braid Yasha’s messy locks every time they all slept at Jess’ place. Beau licked into Yasha’s mouth and all at once, Yasha pictured her apartment. She saw the walls she had kept carefully bare, the sheets she had bought, but no other furniture. The echoing emptiness of a place abandoned for a better chance, and inhabited by the echo of who Yasha used to be.

And what did people say about echoes being louder in empty rooms?

Beau kissed Yasha, and Yasha realized she didn’t want to be an echo anymore.

Beau made her feel solid in a way that was undemanding. She merely held out her hand and asked for the pieces of Yasha that were real, the parts she was willing to share. She helped Yasha make them into a complete picture.

Yasha kissed Beau back with all the gentle strength she could muster through the weight of her epiphany and the whiskey.

This time, Yasha knew she found something worth staying for.

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

[saphirered]

Verin + artificer S/O? Essek (begrudgingly) brings him to meet the Nein and while everyone is say hi they hear a loud boom and out stumbles from their room/lab S/O cover in ash and soot. They say hi to Verin and he just looks over to Essek and is like 'why didn't you bring me here sooner?!' thank you!

Once upon a time I was taught chemistry. I recall next to nothing but hey, maybe someone will recognise the chemicals and reaction causing the boom. I hope this turned out the way you wanted! 😘

“Essek will be here any minute! Hurry up!” You hear Jester shout as you almost spill the contents you’re mixing. Luckily you avoid burning a hole in the table of the lab. Nott might have your head if you ruined her alchemy equipment again.

“I’ll be there in a minute! Just finishing up here and then I’ll clean up and join you!” You shout back putting the vial back in the stand as you watch the fluids mix and swirl together. Taking out your tools you us it to heat up the vial carefully. You don’t need to set up a proper flame. Besides, it doesn’t even need to boil. Arcane flame. Much quicker.

The divines must be looking over you as the vial does not shatter. You set it at the burner to keep the contents at a constant temperature and move on to the next part of your experiment. Time for some powders. Now it’s key they do not come into contact with the liquids in the vial so you set that one out of the way in a safe place before you grab the powders you’ll need.

Goggles and gloves on, tools at the ready you set two beakers apart. With your tools you scoop some grey powder from one container and put it in the one beaker. You close the container and put it to the side before moving onto the next one containing bright yellow pebbles. You take a few and get ready to powder them when-

“Hurry up they’re here! They’re here! They’re here!” Shouting and violent knocking on your door makes you jump out of your skin, the yellow rocks dropping into the beaker with the grey powder, your elbow knocks over the vial from the burning spilling the contents on the desk, ignited by the burner like a fuel trail. You try to snatch the beaker from the desk but it’s already too late.

“Oh shit-“ You take cover casting a quick spell to protect yourself from the blast shattering the beaker in an explosion that should be audible a blocks away. When you get up your goggles are covered in dust and ash from whatever the flames reached. Yep… Nott’s gonna kill you if Caleb doesn’t get to you first… Hope he didn’t have any of his precious books laying around here….

Your ears still ringing you lift the goggles from your eyes giving you visual of the carnage left. You take off the gloves and quickly put out the remaining flames. Oh shit! you’re having guests! Rubbing at your ears trying to get your hearing back to what it’s supposed to be, you stumble to the door slightly disoriented. Opening the door you’re met with some familiar faces, and a new one.

Caduceus had already put aside whatever tray of tea or food he had been carrying and got ready to heal. Caleb is trying to contain the urge to run in and make sure his precious books are alright. Nott’s already screaming her equipment better be fine or you not just owe her a new set but also several fluffernutters to make up for the emotional damages you’ve caused, whatever that’s supposed to mean. Jester joins her at the mentions of receiving fluffernutters. Beau’s laughing her ass off and upon seeing you’re alright Fjord joins her with a light chuckle. Essek looks completely unfazed if not a little worried.

Then you see the other drow. There’s definitely similarities between him and Essek so you feel safe to assume this must be Verin Thelyss. Damn. He’s handsome too… And just your luck you just fell victim to the carnage of your experiment. So much for first impressions. Here you stand covered in ash, dust and sooth probably looking like a maniac or some sort of mad scientist. Oh god… You’re staring. Can he see your staring? Oh no…

You quickly brush off your clothes trying to get rid of the worst of the mess and walk up to the two drow with a bright smile offering a hand to Verin.

“Hello. You must be Verin! Pleasure to meet you.” You look down at your outstretched hand to see it also covered in the grime from your desperate attempt to make yourself look somewhat presentable. You’re about to retract your hand but Verin takes it anyway and shakes it to your surprise. There’s a bit of a mischievous grin visible.

“It’s my pleasure. You must be the artificer my brother neglected to mention dabbles in alchemy. The pleasure is all mine.” Verin certainly expresses an interest in you, or your work. You’re not entirely sure if it’s both or either and you don’t dare to assume.

“Brother dear, you have no excuses for not introducing me to your friend before.” He directs at Essek as he takes your held hand and links it through his arm.

“Not to be rude but I’ve found myself with a special interest in alchemy. Would you mind sharing your work?” Verin asks you and you look at the others. Some raised eyebrows but before you know it you’re pushed into the lab by a little blue tiefling.

“Yes yes! They’d love nothing more than show you all their work and other things!” Jester wiggles her eyebrows and makes a face as you look behind you in confusion.

“You’ll owe me a fluffernutter.” She whispers at you as the door is closed behind you and Verin and you’re left in the mess that is the laboratory.

Verin certainly expresses an interest in your work and has some basic understanding of alchemy. You catch him stare at your more than once, enthralled by you going of on a rant about storing components properly as to avoid situations like this happen.

“-and you see, it’s so difficult to get these specific components here I’m certain I’ve bought up the stocks of every seller in the city at this point yet I still do not have enough to complete this.”

“I happen to have some connections outside of the city. Perhaps I can help you find some or persuade the kind professor to allow you access to their stocks.” Your eyes light up at the offer.

“That would be absolutely amazing! You’d really do that for me? I mean no offence but we’ve only just met like an hour and a half ago?” You’re looking for the loophole or the strings attached to his offer. Usually this stuff doesn’t come for free. Especially not something so generous.

“See it as an opportunity to get to know you better. With your consent of course.” Maybe you should be glad there’s still the remains of sooth you couldn’t wipe away just yet hiding an onset blush. Jeeze. You feel like a school girl what’s going on and how does this man know exactly how to woo you. Charming, intelligent, nice, a good listener that actually shows interest in your passions? You’re not going to pass on that opportunity.

“With an offer like that; consent, permission and attention. You got it all, handsome.” You laugh only half joking. Does this count as flirting? Maybe it does… This is why you’re not the charismatic one.

“It’s settled then and maybe we can discuss your work more thoroughly in the future. I fear I’ve been a terrible guest to your friends.”

“I’m sure they don’t mind.” The two of you begin making your way back to the rest of the Nein and Essek, the latter of which seems relieved no further disasters occurred when letting his brother leave his supervision with you.

By the time Essek and Verin had to take their leave to return to their duties again you bid them farewell. Before departing Verin stops in front of you and clasps your hands between his.

“I’ll see you soon to make good on my promise?” A little caught off guard you can already see the plot spinning in in Jester’s head and Caleb wonder how you’d managed to charm your Thelyss quicker than he had.

“Yeah. See you soon.” He squeezes your hands before letting go and bidding the rest of the Nein farewell. You’re left there standing watching the Thelyss brother go until the door closes.

“Oh. My. Goodness!” Jester’s halfway through planning yours and Verin’s wedding already. Beau pats you on the shoulder for getting in the pants of another hot-boi. You assure her that’s not how you spent your time with Verin. Not yet, she assures you.

“I-uh should just go clean up the mess now…” You try to excuse yourself and for the first time you’re happy Nott’s still upset about her equipment as she begins dragging you off to the lab.

“Yeah! You better!” The goblin screeches.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #essek thelyss x reader #essek x reader #essek #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1037

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the prompt 'overgrown' supplied by @mllekurtz

***

Jester must have noticed his discomfort earlier, Essek thinks in retrospect. That would explain why she had brought up the topic rather abruptly over their campfire as Caduceus prepared their meal (sweet potatoes, roasted).

Jester then very helpfully pointed out that Essek’s fringe was curtaining his left eye and, gosh, that must be hard when you’re trying to aim your spells, huh? In truth, it wasn’t only his overgrown fringe which had been irritating him in the past few weeks, but she was right.

First, Beau offered to help. She and Fjord kept each other’s cuts neat and tidy on the road all the time, apparently. But the brusqueness of her offer and the, for lack of a better word, sloppiness of their respective hairstyles turned Essek off from the idea somewhat. Secondly, Caleb offered to help. He had pulled out a small shaving razor from a pocket in his coat which lit up with the firelight’s reflection. The offer was more appealing than Beau’s, but still Essek turned Caleb down.

Essek had said he would rather wait until they returned from their quest, until they were in a city again, until he could find a professional. He was lying.

It was during his watch that Jester had sprung her ambush. She must have waited for the others to fall asleep before crawling over to sit beside Essek at the edge of the dome, grinning and clutching a small cotton bag on her lap.

“So, you usually pay someone to cut your hair?” she says as she digs through the bag and pulls out a wooden comb and a small pair of scissors. “My mama always cut mine for me. I would look forward to it, you know. I like how it makes your scalp all tingly.”

Essek grudgingly doffs his outer coat and wraps his cloak around his shoulders, snug against his neck, knowing that it would be no use to fight this fate any further. “Um, yes. There is only one man in Rosohna I trust with my hair.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” She conjures a pool of lukewarm water into a bowl as she speaks. “No wonder your hair was always so fabulous, Essek.”

“I doubt I will ever pay him to cut my hair again.”

She pauses to look at him. “That’s okay though, right? I mean, I can learn how to do your hair perfectly too, eventually, if I stick with it.”

He has to smile at her, just to see her smile back at him. “Yes. You’re right.”

Jester casts a second spell to slowly lift the warm water over his head and hair in controlled globs. It is a frivolous use of magic, but he is not one to judge.

Once she begins shaving the hair on the sides of his head, Essek lets his eyes close and recalls his fleeting encounter with Jester’s mother at the party in Nicodranas. He and Jester have similar hair textures. Her mother’s is much the same, though much longer, thick, and wavy. But he doubts either woman need to trim their hair as often as he. Jester’s confidence as she drags the small razor across his skull begins to concern him.

“Have you cut someone else’s hair before, Jester?”

“Nope!” she replies.

Essek makes a metal note to prepare disguise self the following morning.

When Jester begins to fiddle with the damp hair on the top of his head Essek feels the warm tickle of sleepiness behind his eyes. He isn’t sure, but he might slip into a trance if she is as gentle as this for too much longer.

The quiet snip snip of Jester’s scissors is the only sound in the dome louder than the snores of his friends behind them and he hopes Jester is keeping an eye on the wilderness outside the dome, because he is not.

After fifteen more minutes the pleasant fog of trance drapes itself over his mind and body.

Essek is dimly aware of an itchiness around his neck and in the hollows of his ears where the clippings must be accumulating but he remains statue-still for Jester. He wants to make this fair on her, since she is doing him a favour. He thinks about what obscene shapes she might be shaving into the sides of his head.

After another ten or so minutes Jester speaks up.

“You did great today.”

“Pardon?” He blinks the drowsiness away.

“You were super cool in that fight, is all,” she says. Snip snip snip. “Even though you couldn’t see through your hair.” He giggles and shuffles on her knees until she is kneeling on his opposite side, then goes back to work. “Tip your head this way? Thanks. Oh! You could have kept your hair out of your face with a hairband or something, that would have been super cute, Essek.”

“I would rather you just cut it, thank you.”

When she finishes, Essek shakes the clippings from his cloak onto the ground and brushes his hands through his hair. It feels comparably lightweight, shorter than before, suspiciously neat. And now, it’s in no danger of falling into his eyes.

Jester sits patiently in front of him with her hands on her knees and smiles. “Wanna see it?”

He expects a mirror. Instead, Jester waves her hands in a familiar pattern and casts disguise and transforms into Essek. Across from Essek sits Essek, his hair trimmed neatly into a style impressively close to what it probably looked like five months ago, a crimson weasel asleep around his neck, grinning ear-to-ear.

Rather than pay too much attention to how disconcerting Jester’s blinding smile looks plastered across his own face, Essek stares at his hair. She hasn’t shaved obscenities into the sides of his head; she has shaved a pair of small, crooked stars behind his ears though.

“Jester, this is perfect. Thank you,” he says, running his fingers over the uneven, but comfortably short hair at the back of his head. “I will return the favour soon.”

Her eyes widen. “You’ll cut my hair?”

“That is, ah, that is not what I meant—”

“I bet you’ll do great! Making it up as you go is the best fun anyway.”

#ficlet #cr fic #critical role #critical role fic #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #critical role essek #shadowgast if you squint #critical role jester

[utilitycaster]

Wizard Breakdown Tracker, #135

Each week I think “man it would have been cool if I had thought of this idea, in which I make jokes about how stressed out the wizard NPCs are, during, you know, the Vergesson heist or something when we were interacting with more than one wizard NPC instead of during a dungeon crawl with only one wizard NPC, emphasis on crawl” but you know what, I persevere, because where else am I going to put song parodies about the death of Vess Derogna that are literally only funny to me? Twitter?

Anyway while I am personally team Jester, in that the faster Lucien is simultaneously disintegrated, run through in the chest with both a vestige and a holy avenger, shot through the heart (and Veth’s to blame), beheaded with a hand axe, banished, punched in the face, and sent into a black hole the better, the party has other plans. Thanks to the long rest though it has been about 12 hours, plus the 4-ish from last week, so I guess we’ll check in with a few of our other wizard friends as well.

As a reminder Caleb Widogast is a PC and thus excluded from this list.

Currently sidelined

Presumably having a good day: Pumat Sol (blissfully unaware of all of this); Allura Vyesoren (saint-like patience and a wealth of experience with disaster adventuring parties; at least this one has a cleric at more than 0.33 FTE, a wizard, and some lesbians), Ludinus Da’leth (this miserable pile of power plays wakes up every morning and is like Isn’t it Grand to be head of the evil wizard council and no one realizes I probably destroyed the first non-drow elven civilization on the continent to arise after the calamity! Fetch me more pastries!).

No idea but here’s hoping he found the cat portion of ScryTube: Oremid Hass

Lady DeRogna, taken off the scene, sorry that your murder happened while off-screen.

Trent Ikithon: I’ve established that I think the only real things that can damage Trent emotionally are Caleb paying too much attention to him so as to destroy his standing within the empire, or else Caleb ignoring him. Honestly if Trent would not continue to torture students and spread propaganda if left unchecked I think he could be slowly murdered solely through Caleb expressing apathy. So despite the amulets of nondetection I like to imagine that somehow, somewhere, Trent felt Caleb reaffirm to Essek that his top priority is still stopping the city from returning, not Trent, and it necrotized just a little bit more of his liver.

Conclusion: 7/10. I went to the OG evil mageocracy and no one knew who you were.

Essek Thelyss: Well on the one hand he’s still flirting but on the other imagine spending a literal century being like “what if we’re wrong about how we approach the fundamental basis for our society” and he just got proved right. I have to imagine he’s got that kind of stress where suddenly everything becomes dead calm and also this explains why he unnecessarily cast a 3rd level spell, which he knows could in theory cause him to lose all his hair, to impress a boy. I didn’t even get into the conversations he had with Caleb, the bad dreams and eyeballs, Fjord teasing him, Yasha being like “ALRIGHT ALREADY”, the horrible Aeorian creatures, the fact that robots might be back(?) or his ongoing terror that the Assembly is after him!

Conclusion: 8/10 but he’s like, kind of having a good time. Essek is in all ways but physical in a Hawaiian shirt right now drinking a Mai Tai and going Nothing Matters; I presume he will have a full breakdown following the boss battle and honestly he deserves it.

Astrid Beck: Others have already established the parallels between Essek and Astrid but honestly I want to highlight it because really, on the one hand we have Essek, whose world is crashing around him because he was right all along and is in terrible immediate danger but surrounded by friends, and on the other we have Astrid, whose world is crashing around her because she was wrong all along and she’s probably not in immediate danger but Eadwulf is the only person she can trust and we don’t know all the details about that either.

Conclusion: 8/10 but in the bad way, not Essek’s kind of fun way.

Wulfpupy:

Conclusion: 3/10. You know that tiktok with the blonde woman with glasses who has a lot of highlighter on her nose who talks about how sometimes if you have guy friends they will say something deeply fucked up and you’ll be like “oh my god do we unpack this right now” and then you look over at them and the only thing in their mind are the lyrics to Kokomo? That’s Wulf. He will activate the second Caleb comes back in town or Astrid actually falls apart but until then he is on Island Time.

Yussa Errenis: I wonder if there’s a small part of Yussa that is part of the city’s awareness and, moreover, can see what Beau and Caleb at least are doing, and he’s like “I’m so simultaneously proud and impatient, also we live in a world that does not have IV fluids so like, hopefully my body still exists in some kind of functioning state when I am rescued” (note: did I google “how were coma patients kept alive in olden times” for this? Perhaps.) Anyway if he is aware he’s also just like, watching all this like “I WILL GET YOU SO MUCH PAPER OH MY GOD CAN YOU JUST KISS THE OTHER WIZARD SAVE ME FROM THE EVIL HIVEMIND CITY.”

Conclusion: I mean still infinity/10, he is still trapped in the city of madness and also if he does have a small part of his mind that is sane and able to observe the material plane he also is aware that Trent and the Volstruckers broke into his tower.

Known Gem Wizard Hotsauce Lutefisk: I know, I know, weird that I brought him up. However consider: Yussa’s wizard tower now contains two wizards in suspended animation, their consciousnesses trapped in eldritch astral sea-related spaces. This is incredibly funny to me. We’re in a real Old Lady who swallowed a fly scenario except it’s centuries-old wizards getting sucked into traps because of their own hubris. The reason why mageocracies no longer exist isn’t the lack of magical knowledge or even because power corrupts absolutely, it’s because literally just put some lightly fried forbidden knowledge under a box with a stick propping it up, add your parody of Long-Term Nuclear Waste Warnings above it, and a wizard will be like “that sign won’t stop me because I CAN read and what’s more I’m better at reading than you are!” And then they get trapped in a box.

Conclusion: what is a breakdown tracker to a man whose mind has been stuck in a gem for, from his perspective, at minimum about 35 years?

#critical role #critical role spoilers #wizard breakdown tracker #shadowgast #honestly i want shenanigans that rival any post-dragon vm shenanigans after aeor and i want essek to have a starring role #sorry percy i want a BLACK HOLE in the hot tub #your music this week was lady madonna by the beatles and kokomo by the beach boys #i swear i am a millennial i just spent a lot of formative time in the car with my boomer parents listening to the oldies station

[sockablock]

I’ve had a small idea for a little while now, so I’m testing the waters with a first chapter! It’s a bit long, so excuse me there, but hopefully y’all enjoy reading! :3

—

It began with a letter that arrived one morning as Essek sat alone in the kitchen.

The courier himself had seemed just as surprised to be delivering a message to the reclusive Shadowhand, but a cursory glance at the carefully-folded envelope and a less-cursory casting of Detect Magic had signaled no foul play. So Essek took the letter, settled back beside the dining table, and floated over a glass of chilled juice for the reading.

His eyes flicked over the return address, and though it did seem familiar, it did not immediately spark recognition. His first real impression of the message was simply that of crisp, neatly-printed handwriting and the faintest whiff of…hmm. Lavender.

The letter began with a standard greeting.

To Shadowhand Essek Thelyss—

I hope you have been keeping well since we spoke. It has been some time, and I admit it is strange for me also as I realize this is likely the first letter I have sent you since our meeting.

He sipped the juice.

You are a busy man, and I would not intrude on your time if my request is unwelcome or unfeasible. But you see, in the time since we have ended the war and sealed away the Chained Oblivion—

Essek nearly spat out his drink.

He managed, in the proceeding moments, to weakly swallow, and shakily set his glass back onto the table. He cleared his throat once or twice. He gently coughed.

He picked up the envelope he had discarded earlier and quickly, the pieces fit together.

The Firmaments. Eastern district. The neighborhood where once, Den Thelyss had provided a house for a ragtag group of outsiders…

He snatched the letter back into the air.

—and semi-accidentally, though certainly also purposefully toppled the Cerberus Assembly.

Essek had to pause and re-read that sentence. It still didn’t sink in until nearly a minute later. He rubbed his temples, and resumed.

As such, it has befallen on I, and by extension the rest of the Mighty Nein to rebuild some of the arcane infrastructure of the Empire. To be more specific, in our meeting with King Dwendal’s court, a lord accused us of trying to cripple the nation by eliminating a powerful institution of magic and Beauregard volunteered that I would be the best candidate to replace it. One comment led to another, and perhaps it was our past efforts in politicking, or our recent defeat of the Maw of Eternal Darkness—

Essek wondered if he had any alcohol.

—but the court ultimately, shockingly, decided that I should be put in charge of creating and overseeing a new arcane academy for the Dwendalian Empire. And so, at the time in which I am writing you this letter, I have been appointed the Headmaster of a new Soltryce Academy, though I certainly will not be keeping that name.

It is with this in mind that I am writing to you now, my friend. For you see, despite the apparent confidence of my friends and my “superiors,” I do not believe I am capable of running a school on my own. Certainly not implementing the necessary infrastructure to have a school of any repute by the next century as well. And though I have my friends, and some resources, and an idea of where to start, the destruction of the Assembly and the Cobalt Soul’s anti-corruption efforts have left our nation in a sorry state regarding reputable mages. So, my dear friend, as we have worked together in the past, I have quite a large favor to ask.

And as Essek’s eyes continued scanning further down the page, the sinking sensation gripping his stomach was not helped by the decanter of plum wine that floated over to his table.

—

Meanwhile, beneath a shining sun on what seemed like the opposite side of the world, Caleb Widogast, the appointed head of a yet-to-be-named-academy was being berated by one of his closest friends.

Beau at least had possessed the decency to shut the tent flap so the army of woodworkers outside would not hear this.

“—suspicious! Caleb, there’s no way it’ll work. And not just because he’s the Shadowhand of the Bright Queen, also because…because…well…everything!”

“I think if he carried an umbrella during the day—”

“Not what I’m talking about,” Beau said. “I’m talking about literally every other problem that asking Essek to teach will cause, good gods.”

Caleb leaned back on the small wooden crate that was currently serving as his favorite chair. The slightly-larger crate he was using for a desk said “Honigblumen Brewery” on it.

“Well, nobody will be teaching for quite some time yet,” he said, “so we will have plenty of chances to work out the kinks.”

Beau shook her head at him, then took a seat. “I’m so far down disbelief city that I’m not even going to talk about the fact that you just said kinks.”

“I meant—”

She waved a dismissive hand. “I know what you meant, and here’s what I mean. Caleb, as much as I know you like Essek, there’s no way any of this is gonna work. First of all, he’s already got a job as the Shadowhand, and I doubt he’d wanna give up a cushy position like that to come work for a nothing-at-all school in the middle of the Empire.”

“Ja, I know, I know, I’ve thought about that—”

“And did you think about the part where he’s the fucking Shadowhand and you’ve asked him to come to the middle of the Dwendalian Empire to teach a goddamn gen-ed course?!”

Caleb was quiet for a moment. And then he said:

“Actually, I was thinking of asking him to take the more advanced levels—”

Beau reached across the ale crate to flick Caleb in the head. “And you don’t see a problem with that, at all? Caleb, for the gods’ sake, use your stupidly big head to consider the fuckin’ political ramifications of that. If the Empire catches wind of this, they’re gonna hate it, war over or not over. And I don’t even mean that in a ‘there’s gonna be shitty racism’ way, which is something else you’ll probably have to deal with later, I meant that in a ‘think about his last job description way.” And speaking of that, I mean, on Essek’s side, really, are you really expecting him to really settle down and help teach after he’s spent a lifetime—a human lifetime—being a military spymaster? Not to mention the fact that he’s a power-hungry war criminal who betrayed his own nation to get ‘arcane secrets’ or whatever. Seriously, dude, there’s no scenario where this goes well for you or him.”

At Caleb’s expression, Beau’s tone eased just slightly and she added, as a peace offering, “Really, dude.”

Caleb sighed. He scratched at his head.

“I…look. I…I think you’re right, but…there are also good possibilities of having him around. He is knowledgeable, he is skilled, I know his magic firsthand, and he has always been trustworthy—”

“Ha!”

“—for us, Beauregard. I think he is one of our best potential candidates, especially as he is only one of three so far. Just…trust me on this one, alright?”

She studied his face intently. The sheerness of the tent walls let in quite a bit of light, giving both of their eyes a faint, sunny sparkle.

With these two, though, it was more of a manic glint.

“What’s this really about?”

“Was?”

Beau leaned closer. “I said, what’s this really about? I don’t think that’s your only motivation. And if I’m gonna trust you, you’ve gotta be straight with me. I know you’re not an idiot, so I believe you when you say you’ve thought about the risks. What’s made them all worth it? What do you really think, and don’t give me that crap about him being a good teacher. You’ve got good teachers. Two advanced ones anyway, and you said yourself yesterday that the rest can be trained. So what’s up? What’s your real game here?”

Caleb floundered only slightly under the intensity of her stare.

“How long have we known each other now? No, fuck that, I pulled you out of the mouth of a forsaken god. Tell me, dickwad. Come on, it’s me.”

And after a moment, Caleb pinched his nose.

“It’s…it’s… it’s partially selfish. And…”

This, Beau understood. She nodded. “And…?”

“And…well, I…was thinking last night, after dinner, about who I want on this project. Aside from you all. And I realized…thinking about everything we have been through, that…for the most part, especially after our…revelations at sea, Essek is one of the people I want around. Largely because, well…”

He gave another sigh.

“Because I want to see what has become of our Xhorhastian friend. More importantly, I want to see if he has…or…could, ah, change.”

“Change,” she said flatly.

“Ja. I…I think I need to seem him change.”

“Because?”

“Because...” Caleb exhaled. “After everything we have been through, what we have seen, after fighting against the Assembly and watching so many mages crumble, I find myself searching for…assurance. Assurance that not every wizard is bad. Assurance that we even deserve this second change. And…if at all possible, what I most would like is to know that anyone, even the most driven and ambitious, the most ruthless, cutthroat, power—as you said, power-hungry—wizard can be shown that there is another way. That…ultimately, all of us can be redeemed.”

He looked back up, and raised an eyebrow. “I want to make this school a force for change. And I want to make it a place where we change, too. I said once before, and I still believe it is so, that Essek and I have a lot of things in common. It is time to see how much we can be changed.”

Beau did not answer for a drawn-out moment, but neither did she look away.

“I think you’re pretty changed, Caleb. That should be a point in your corner already.”

“That’s true,” and this time his smile was a little brighter, “but that is largely due to our group. I think Essek has gotten some of the Mighty Nein treatment, but probably not enough.”

“So…so is he your pet project now, or something?”

“Ach, no, nothing so…no. It is more of a…the thing is, Beauregard, I do consider him a friend. And we got so caught up with the Angel in Irons cult and then the Assembly that, well…it is just, before all that happened, I did like spending time with him.”

“Me too,” she waved a hand, “he had good wine, and when we got him in the hot-tub, he wasn’t that bad. Still don’t know if he’s worth all this. He’s a war criminal—yeah, I know what you and Jester think, but that’s what I think, and Veth agrees. Seriously, you never know, he could be too far gone, and I don’t want him near this school and project if it’ll put you in danger or risk anything.”

“We are no strangers to danger,” Caleb murmured. “And I…would like to think that with enough effort, nobody could be so far gone.”

Beau sighed. She leaned across the crate again, but this time it was to put an arm on Caleb’s shoulder.

“You’re really fucking stubborn, you know that?”

“Ja, so I have been told.”

“Essek has betrayed people before. His people, before.”

“Yes, but…” Caleb shrugged. “He also will probably be betraying his own nation to join this school.”

“Oh, good,” Beau grunted. “So at least he’s had some practice.”

—

By the time Essek had managed to re-arrange his thoughts into something even mildly resembling order, the letter in his hands was so thoroughly crumpled that all its corners were bent.

He attempted to smooth them back out. When this failed to be satisfactory, he put it back on the kitchen table.

A…teaching position at Caleb’s school. Well not Caleb’s school, but a new Empire Academy that Caleb would oversee. And they needed instructors, as well as mages to help build it, and he thought Essek would be a good fit…

Idly, he wondered if Caleb wanted a teleportation network, as many of the finest institutions had. He wondered if this was something he would have to organize.

Apparently, the Mighty Nein had defeated the Chained Oblivion in some obscure corner of the world, without most of civilization even noticing. But Essek remembered the readings that morning, remembered the clamor and panic in the Cathedral, remembered the theurgists in the Conservatory practically tearing themselves apart to understand what was happening. If their claims were true, and this wasn’t an elaborate prank on the Mighty Nein’s end, a large part of Essek vowed he would draw chalk circles for them forever, if they asked.

But a small part of Essek had the needling thought: why didn’t they tell me it was happening? I could have helped them.

He glanced back at the note.

Well, they were asking for help now, weren’t they? And if nothing else had changed, it was the simple fact that Essek would still do his best to help his friends.

There were just some minor complications to be dealt with.

Namely, what to tell the Bright Queen. And his—

He made a face.

—and his mother.

—

A few days later, Essek stood in front of his bathroom mirror.

It was a beautiful piece, made from polished volcanic glass and set into an ornately-twisted frame of dark metal. It was the perfect gift for someone who regularly floated around Rosohna being called the Shadowhand, but as far as mirrors actually went it left some details lacking.

Still, it served Essek well enough, and he’d never really gotten around to replacing it.

He stared into his dim reflection and slid a hand over his chin.

—

Elsewhere, another wizard stared too, but not into any reflective surface.

Veth’s eyes hadn’t refracted light like that for nearly two years, now. But Caleb could still feel the weight of her gaze boring into his skull as she searched for answers.

Eventually, she sat back.

“Alright. How?”

“Yes, I know it’s—was?”

“How?” she repeated, and steepled her fingers. “How are we gonna do it? He’ll need a disguise, right?”

There was a long pause as Caleb processed this. He managed, “You are…not mad?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m happy, but I trust you, Caleb. You have a reason?”

“Er…yes. I quite do.”

“So…alright, then.” There was a pause, then she added, “I am kind of annoyed you already sent the letter without asking, though.”

“Sorry.”

“I feel like I should ground you.”

“That, er…you can, if that makes you feel better.”

Veth genuinely seemed to consider this. Behind them, through the thin tent-walls of the office, they could hear a delighted child running circles around adults. They were, respectively, Luc Brenatto, having the time of his life shooting the Mighty Nein with wooden darts.

They were rounded off, of course. Yeza had seen to that with great care.

“No,” Veth sighed eventually. “No, that probably sets a bad example. I don’t think a professor can ground the Headmaster.”

“Head Professor, do not forget. I trust you the most out of everyone on this project. Not just because you are my friend, but you are qualified. And you really understand our mission.”

His tone of voice suggested that this was a conversation they had had many times. The way Veth’s face colored just slightly suggested she was still having trouble with the ‘qualified’ part.

Nevertheless, years of trained suspicion broke through the treacle-sweet flattery.

“But you didn’t trust me enough to tell me you were planning to ask Essek to come earlier,” she pointed out. “What did you think I was going to do?”

Caleb winced. “No, Veth, I…scheisse. That was…I was being impulsive that night. I…the idea occurred to me and I did not even hesitate to contact him. I…in retrospect, I should have.”

At least, to his relief, Veth nodded in response. “I get that,” she shrugged. “And like I said before, I am on board. You’re lucky I like you so much, Caleb. I don’t…care for Essek, but if this is what you want, I’ll…deal with having him around.”

“I am sorry again,” he said. “And, er…if it helps, you will also be his boss.”

Veth hadn’t been a goblin for years, but her eyes gleamed.

“Please be nice to him,” Caleb added.

“Nice?” Veth scoffed. “He’s not exactly nice.”

“He was nice to us—”

“Not Yeza.”

At the tortured grimace that passed across Caleb’s face, Veth sighed.

“Look, don’t worry, seriously. I was mostly kidding—I’m kidding! I just…you know that I have complicated feelings about Essek. In a…in a sort of way, I understand what he did. And I know where he’s coming from, I do. Lots of us are...well, we were pretty sketchy too. He really reminds me of the things we’ve done. But…he hasn’t shown nearly as much remorse as I’d like. And some of the things he’s done are—” She risked a glance up into Caleb’s impassive expression, “—I don’t like that he still doesn’t seem to care. But…he is a wizard, and I guess he’s our friend. So…if you can keep him from doing anything, I don’t know, very sketchy, then I’m on board. I trust you.”

Caleb’s expression went soft. He nodded.

“Thank you, Veth. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And I do hope that…well, I hope we can stop him from ‘sketchy’ things. In fact, ah…a small part of me is hoping that eventually, he will want to stop doing sketchy things all by himself.”

“Really?” Veth sounded more than skeptical. “How?”

Caleb shrugged. “The same way you and I did, no?”

—

Now Essek stood before the iron wrought gates that led into the expansive manor grounds of his family home. He could see, high above and a bit back, the five towers that made up the domain of the Umavi of Den Thelyss, long empty after all her children had moved on.

And, Essek recalled with a grimace, after his father had most probably, definitely, died.

It was a lonely castle. A feeling he could commiserate with, even in his smaller manor.

He straightened his collar. He knocked twice.

—

“By getting rich as adventurers.”

“By getting friends.”

—

“It is a surprise to see you here,” said Umavi Deirta Thelyss, Denmother of Den Thelyss and also Essek’s actual mother. “You rarely visit outside formal events and holidays.”

She did not add that Essek had totally missed the last two get-togethers, and thus must have been in a charitable mood. The rare—albeit leftover—tea blend that Essek had brought might have tipped the scale.

“I know, Mother.”

“I worry about you, of course.”

“I know, Mother.”

“And I’m certainly proud of what you’ve accomplished thus far.” At this, she took a sip of the Blooming Grove’s best. “I trust you are finding ways to keep yourself busy even during these times of peace?”

“Of course, Mother. Er…actually, it is partially that subject which I wish to address with you.”

His mother lowered her cup.

“Ah. So this is not purely a social call.”

“Er…no.”

She dabbed at the corner of her mouth, but Essek could have sworn she’d just smiled. Or, he backpedaled, at least tactfully smirked.

“Is this about access to the Beacons again, dear? As I always say, I can try to put in a word, but we have never been the den as involved in religious matters.” She paused, and tilted her head at him. “Is this about Consecution?”

“Er…no.”

“Oh. Well, then? Speak your mind.”

Under the table, Essek twisted at the hem of his sleeve.

“I, ah…well, that is…I’ve received a letter, Mother. An offer of…professorship. From…an Academy.”

This seemed to genuinely surprise the Umavi.

“Professorship? But…why?”

“Someone out there believes in my arcane prowess, apparently.” With the first sentence out of the way, Essek managed to sip his tea. Only a true observer would have noticed it falter slightly in its trajectory.

“Well,” said his Mother, trying to meet his gaze, “what a strange request to make of one already so gainfully employed. As the Bright Queen’s master of…let us call them the more obscure matters of state.”

When Essek did not match her eyes, she continued, “What sort of Academy is this, dear? Surely none in the Marble Tomes would write you in this way, and I find difficulty imagining you taking up permanent residence in Asarius. Which must mean…”

Essek sighed. His mother certainly was a true observer.

“Yes, Mother. It is outside the Dynasty.”

“Worse than that, I am sure.”

“Er…”

There was a sweeping of long robes as his mother leaned. She wasn’t wearing her headdress, but could loom without height, her sheer imposing presence doing the work just fine.

“Essek?”

He sighed again.

“Inside the Empire, Mother.” And because they had gotten this far, and he didn’t have much else to lose, he added, “Run by Widogast. Caleb Widogast, if you remember him, as well as a number of his friends, I gather. It is the…replacement institution currently being built to fill the void—”

“That the Assembly left, yes, I assumed.” She settled back, and a shifting of fabric indicated that she had crossed her arms. “And our dearly departed hero Widogast wants you to teach there?”

“And to assist him in establishing some of its curriculum and facilities, yes.” He tactfully ignored the ‘dearly departed’ bit.

“That would certainly be an odd career move for you, Essek. And surely, foreigner or no, he has spent enough time in our country to be aware of the implications of what he is asking.”

“Surely, Mother.”

“And as we all know, he has had training in Dunamancy these last years. I do hope his teacher had impressed upon him how vitally important it is to keep such training and knowledge a secret.”

For the first time since reading the letter, Essek paused.

In all his…well, excitement was not a word ever ascribed to the Shadowhand, but certainly in his anticipation to consider his offer, it had never actually crossed his mind that he might be asked to teach Dunamancy.

A small but very significant part of him riled.

Across the table, his mother drank some more tea. She was watching her son, who to his credit, had mastered the art of freezing his micro-expressions so swiftly that they could not be read. But without his mantle on, sitting in his mother’s tearoom, his hands were fidgeting up a storm across the table.

He probably hadn’t even noticed. She took another sip.

In a matter of seconds, Essek was back. He shook his head, and reached for a dry cookie.

“I think he is aware of the gravity of the situation. And I trust him to have already, ah…weighed the pros and cons.”

“And have you?” asked Deirta Thelyss, knowing the answer.

Essek bit down.

“I believe I have.”

—

“So…that’s it? We just wait for an answer, now?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll say yes?”

“Well, I certainly hope so.”

“How’s he supposed to tell you?” This one was Jester, leaning across a stack of milk crates. “He doesn’t have Sending, I’m pretty sure.”

There was a pause in the air as the Mighty Nein watched Caleb consider, and realize this.

“Oh,” he said eventually. “I, er…I had assumed he did.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Beau said. “How did you think he was going to answer back? You didn’t think Xhorhas had a postal service to Felderwin, did you?”

“I, ah, admit that—”

“Maybe you should check our mailbox in Rosohna,” said Fjord kindly. “He probably just sent it to the Xhorhouse, or something.”

Caleb faltered, and scratched the back of his head. “…scheisse. You don’t think he has been waiting all this time to answer already, has he? I had not even considered—”

“I would not worry about that.”

All of them turned as a voice outside the door drifted in through the thin walls of the tent.

Then the voice added:

“How do I…oh, there is a latch—”

But he did not manage to finish the assessment before Jester ran over, threw the flap open, and tackled Essek bodily in a hug.

—

“In that case, there is only one last thing to say.” The Umavi of Den Thelyss sat back in her seat. A thin trail of steam curled up from her cup.

“I forbid you from going.”

“Thank—you what?”

She steepled her fingers. “I say ‘no,’ Essek. I will not let you chase this Empire wizard across the continent to teach at his school.”

“I…but…that is not…Mother, why?”

The swiftness of his outburst answered the question for both of them.

She studied his gaze.

“Essek, you have a purpose here. You have a bright future, and a reputation, and glowing prospects and I will not let you squander that to go off spilling our nation’s secrets.”

Essek managed to bite his tongue just in time. His mother would not have liked his instinctual answer.

Instead, he choked out the words, “I’ll quit, then. I’ll defect. I want to do this. More than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.”

Later, he would wonder why he said that. Even later, later, he would wonder if that were true.

The oldest and nearly-youngest souls of Den Thelyss stared at each other across the tea table. Their drinks cooled, and somewhere high above, the sun began to rise over the city of Rosohna.

But down here, beneath the blanket of perpetual stars, the only light was from the low, flickering lamps along the wall.

“I would do anything,” one said.

“…is that so?” said the other.

—

He was released after the impact knocked his parasol aside and his skin very quickly, visibly, began to redden. They immediately ushered him into the tent, shouting and laughing and clapping him on the back all the way, though he noticed that despite the friendly reception from Jester, Caduceus, Fjord, and even Yasha, Veth seemed somewhat frozen in her smile, and Beau even less warm.

That was…probably to be expected, actually. He wondered if this might present an issue and was about to open his mouth, say something, until he noticed a figure striding across the tent floor, side-stepping a stack of crates, and taking him by the hand.

Essek met his eyes. It had been some time, since he saw those eyes. Then he blinked.

“By the light, Caleb, you have grown a beard.”

There was a pause, and then Caleb laughed, and that was new too. Essek always forgot how quickly humans could change.

“I had meant to shave it before you arrived,” Caleb admitted. “It is, ah, a product of sleepless nights overseeing the construction of a new school.”

“It’s terrible,” Jester said. “It makes you look old.”

“I can fix this now if needed,” said a voice, followed by the sound of an unsheathing sword.

“Er…maybe…later, bitte?”

And Essek couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I nearly forgot how boisterous all of you are, all the time. I have…” He turned, faced the Mighty Nein. “My life has not been nearly as interesting without you in it.”

“Well then, welcome back,” Caduceus gave a smile.

And even Veth, despite their…history, stepped forward.

“I said it once before, didn’t I? Welcome to the Mighty Nein, Essek.”

She even stuck out a hand for him to shake.

—

“I want you to report back everything to me. And when the time comes, when your Headmaster is summoned to the castle, I want you to go with him.”

“But…Mother, why?”

Her voice was nothing but gentle as she addressed her son.

“It is well-known that King Bertrand Dwendal has no heirs. And rules over quite a…combative court, with an iron fist.”

She leaned in even closer.

“What would happen to the Empire, do you think, if he was removed from that picture?”

—

And somewhere else, on what felt like the opposite side of the world, Caleb put an arm around Essek’s shoulder, and grinned.

“It is good to see you again, my friend.”

Essek’s lip twitched into what could approximately be called a smile.

“Good to see you as well,” he said.

#to be continued...? #critical role #critfic #shadowgast #critrole #cr2 #the mighty nein #fanfiction #fanfic #jay writes #long post #LONG ASS POST #SUCH A LONG POST IM SO SORRY #for later #i dont have a tag for this yet so let's call it #time to build a magic school #text #fic

[stardustedknuckles]

The idea in your fic of Yasha choosing her birthday to be in the spring is really cute and it got me wondering, do you have headcanons for when the rest of the M9s birthdays are?

Okay okay so first, I know nothing of astrology so nobody @ me about personalities or whatever. This is a vibes only zone.

Yasha: Spring, probably late March when things are getting colorful but it can still snow. I feel like Yasha would adore a dusting of snow on the colors of spring. Also storms!

Beau: I just said I don’t know astrology and I’m not willing to fight about it but that girl is a Leo (ask me how I know). Mid-August birthday, but not mine bc I am on the wrong side of a cusp.

Jester: Early September. Summer giving way but it doesn’t know it yet. Sunflowers in full swing, those last sweet days of warmth and in a lot of places, rainy weather.

Caleb: November. A month overlooked in the mainstream as the dead zone between halloween and the winter holidays. It’s widely considered a miserable month, but everyone forgets the first half is still very much autumn in full swing - at its peak, even. There is a lot to miss out on in november if you don’t look closely and it’s rewarding if you do.

Caduceus: Early June. I almost put him in autumn as well, and it would still fit him depending on how you looked at him, but he’s there when spring has finished flourishing and the dog days of summer approach. There’s a lot of life in summer - it’s what it’s known for - but if you’ve ever seen whole lots of brown grass or heard the dry whisper of overheated leaves in the middle of the year, you know summer holds a lot of decay in it as well. And that’s perfectly natural.

Veth: February, but I have a hard time nailing why. Nothing to do with Valentine’s - I think she’s the sort who takes a bad situation and makes it her own. It follows that an objectively miserable month in the very depths of winter, that bridge where january refuses to give way to spring, would be the same kind of place Veth would inhabit and not only make it her own, but make it something worth looking forward to for others too - whatever the reason.

Fjord: Also August, and that is pure vibes. End of August, I’d say. I genuinely don’t know how to make pretty words about it - he just matches the impression that comes to mind when I think of that space where summer isn’t over and you know its end is coming and you’re already missing it even as you look forward to the cooler weather coming. It’s a time to savor, and if you’re me, you’re savoring the very same heat that you’ve spent the last three months trying not to die in lol. I’m ready for summer to be over almost as soon as it starts, and then we hit the end of August and I find myself soaking it in as much as I can and drawing strength from it as summer fades. Whatever that is, I feel like that’s Fjord.

#this was funnnn #i have dnd in...now so I have to go but #thanks for this! #asked and answered #Anonymous