#shadowgastober

[rainbowcaleb]

Next up for Shadowgastober, my Over the Garden Wall fusion fic :)

Warning: ambiguously sad ending, but there’s a tiny glimmer of hope if you squint.

Summary:

Sometimes the loveliest lies are what we whisper to ourselves when we look into the dark.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgastober #critical role fic #critical role #shadowgast fic #over the garden wall #my fic #fic

[copperhawkthoughts]

Chapters: 18/18 Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series), The Lady of Shalott - Alfred Lord Tennyson Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast, The Mighty Nein & Essek Thelyss, Essek Thelyss & Caleb Widogast Characters: Essek Thelyss, The Mighty Nein, Ludinus Da'leth, Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre Additional Tags: Shadowgastober 2022 (Critical Role), Shadowgastober (Critical Role), Shadowgast, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Lady of Shalott, Tennyson would be confused, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, canon compliant through C2E110, And the first bit of C2E111, Temporary Amnesia Summary:

Essek Thelyss departs from the Mighty Nein shortly after the close of the negotiations to end the war and repatriate the Beacon he stole. He tells them he has loose ends to tie up - but he is a loose end all his own, and not the only one looking to weave this tapestry…

#critical role #cr fic #shadowgast #shadowgastober #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #the lady of shalott #copperhawk writes

[asheepdraws]

Days 2 + 5 of shadowgastober: academic rivals and library dates 📚💖

(aka when arcane deliberation is a love language)

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #beauyasha #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #critical role #critical role fanart #Asheepdraws #sgtober2022

[blazingstar24]

Finally updated my Sailor Moon Shadowgast AU!

It’s shadowgastober so best time to come back!

Idk why it’s on chap one, but I updated chap 5!

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #cr fic

[animatrobin]

#sgtober2021 day 7! Ghost Stories

This one is inspired by Kay Nielson, my first go at digital in a looong time

#shadowgast #essekthelyss #CalebWidogast #CriticalRoleArt #Criticalrole

#shadowgast #shadowgastober #inktober2021 #inktober #critical role #critical role art #critical role fanart #cr caleb #critical role essek #essek theyless #cr essek #essek art #dnd #dnd art #dungeons and dragons art

[imalsoscarlet]

Can't Sleep, Never Quite Restless

For day 2 of @daydreamdeuce's Shadowgastober. See Day 1 here.

The tears aren't real. They can't be; he agreed to this. And yet watching Beauregard and Yasha kiss is not a painless experience. They are happy, even if Yasha will outlive Beau. Even if Caleb and Essek are-

Essek stands up from the table. This is suppose to be a happy affair. The Mighty Nein getting together once a month, for good times. For remembering the hard ones. They just finished with dinner, where Caleb made a toast to surviving the end of the world. They're talking. Essek's eyes catch Caleb's. He gives an unhappy smile. Essek sits on the couch, away from him. Somewhere within him, there's a crack. A fissure. Caleb's hair is full silver. The wizard is wrinkled and experienced and beautiful. Essek is... himself.

Jester makes a joke about tielfing ages. Fjord laments being old, even while he doesn't look it. Caduceus catches Essek's eyes. He sees what Essek is feeling, because of course he does.

"Essek, can you go back into the house and get the other tea pot? I must have forgotten to bring it." Caduceus gives him a smile.

Essek doesn't run out of Caleb's tower. He floats. But if there's a sense of urgency, no one says anything. Essek floats to the house, but doesnt get the tea pot. He floats past it. He goes into the forrest. The gently floating drow harshly drops his cantrip and falls to his knees.

These tears can't be real. He agree with Caleb. They separate in mural agreement. And yet-

And yet Essek hasn't been able to get rest as of late. His thoughts are about Caleb. About letting him go. About regret. The gods knows he has enough of that. Why not more? He takes several deep breaths.

Stop it Thelyss. Stop. Count to ten. Hide it.

It's been years since he was Shadowhand. But surely he can-

Weariness has plagued him lately. It shouldn't. He shouldn't be feeling like this. Is this what they call a break up? Is misery a right emotion? His trances are filled with thoughts of Caleb, Caleb, Caleb. I want to hold you, Caleb. I want to kiss you again Caleb. Why can't we be together like Beau and Yasha Caleb?

He curls up beneath the tree and tries to trance. Some rest will do him good. Then he'll be able to smile again. He begins the trance. Four full hours isn't needed. Two hours rest is enough.

Caleb holds him in Aeor. It's one of their many research trips. Essek is laughing with joy. They just defeated a monster and are alive. Alive and in love. Caleb kisses Essek. Darkness fades in then the scene shifts. Essek is on the ground now. The Dynasty has caught up to him. To the Mighty Nein. They know what the Mighty Nein hid. Caleb breaks from a Dynasty soldier and goes to him. Embraces him. Another kiss as the teleportation spell takes hold. The scene shifts again and this time, it's the day Essek confessed to being in love. They embrace and purple hands tangle in red hair. The scene snaps to Essek on the floor of their study, unable to look upon a book because there's a familiar scarf sitting all alone in an arm chair. The house has been so quiet since Caleb left.

Essek pulls out of the trance with tears in his eyes. He still can't rest without Caleb on his mind. He's awful. He sighs and wipes his cheeks. Purple hands lift to cast teleport.

"Essek, is everything okay? You disappeared."

Essek turns around. Caleb, in all his handsome glory, stands there. Essek bows his head and looks away. Then, there are arms around him.

"Trancing is so much harder now that I'm alone," Essek whispers and leans into the mage's chest.

"You're not a lone Thelyss."

"I am in our bed," he replies. "I miss you. I'm sorry."

"I'm right here." Caleb tilts his head up and Essek looks into two orbs of neverending oceans.

"You know what I mean." Essek pulls away. He starts the motions for teleport again.

"So it's true then."

Essek pauses. "What is."

"What our friends said. You are upset. I have hurt you."

Essek stays silent.

"Just as I have hurt myself. You're not the only one who has trouble resting."

Essek turns around. Caleb embraces him.

"I'll leave you alone for centuries," Caleb remarks.

"Then let me enjoy the time I have with you," Essek remarks, "let me trance beside you until I can no longer."

Caleb nods and they kiss. "Let's get some rest, ja?"

#critical role #fanfiction #shadowgastober #campaign 2 #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast #critical role fanfiction

[microcosmtoxin]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34209730/chapters/85190656#workskin

chapter two (text under the cut)

Essek Theylss was not a stranger to sleepless nights, in fact he barely needed sleep, yet he wished for it, often. The sweet calm that sleep brought that trancing didn't. But sometimes, sleeplessness was a gift. One late night in the hut, Aeorian mysteries bounding around Essek's mind as he futilely tried to lull himself to sleep. He turned over, checking to see if Caleb had fallen to slumber. Oh He had never seen Caleb so calm. Peaceful, content, Essek could swear that even in the blistering cold of Eiselcross, Caleb was warm. An urge sunk into Essek's mind, it wasn't out of the blue, Essek knew Caleb was attractive and smart and caring and so so strong but this was the first time he realized it. He wanted to hold Caleb. Run his fingers through those glowing ginger locks of hair. Press a kiss to his freckled collarbone. Press a kiss to his freckled everywhere. Hold his hands as they emanate a soft warm. Oh no.

#critical role #shadowgast #shadowgastober 2021

[dhwty-writes]

A Wizard’s Spellbook

I honestly don't know what this is. This whole thing was just born from the "a wizards spellbook" prompt for Shadowgastober and the missing apostrophe that got me wondering... Because it makes a pretty big difference where you place that.

There’s not a lot of shadowgast in this, I still hope you’ll have fun reading this!

Summary:  Why, you will ask yourself, does your professor leave his book on his desk during his lessons? Why then, does he keep it open, why does he invite you to look at it, why is he so careless? Doesn't he know that only the wizard who works alone will succeed? Doesn't he know that solitude mitigates risks? Doesn't he know that that's the thing about wizards? Eventually there is only one left.

Professor Widogast, his wizard's spellbook, and the many lessons he learned from his friends.

Warnings: light lifespan angst

Read on AO3

A wizard's spellbook, they will tell you when you start to study magic, is their most prized possession. They will not share it. They will not lend it. They will not leave it unsupervised.

Guard your spells and guard your knowledge, they will say, lest they be perverted, perfected, poached. Write in a cypher no-one knows, they will teach you, that you have created yourself. As a dragon hoards its gold, a wizard hoards their magic.

If you are offered a spell, grab it and take it, you likely won't get another chance. If you can find a wizard's spellbook, grab it and take it, you likely won't get another chance. If you are offered friendship, don't take it, you likely will end up with a knife in your back. 

Be selfish. Be cruel. Be stronger, better, mightier than anyone else.

So why then, you will ask yourself, does your professor leave his book on his desk during his lessons? Why then, does he keep it open, why does he invite you to look at it, why is he so careless? Doesn't he know that only the wizard who works alone will succeed? Doesn't he know that solitude mitigates risks? Doesn't he know that that's the thing about wizards? Eventually there is only one left.

"Professor Widogast," you will say, "should you not keep your spells secret?"

He will laugh and say: "That is the way of wizards of ages past. I learned from my friend at the Cobalt Soul that all knowledge must be shared."

Your professor will have many stories like that, learned from many friends. The first time he shows you a page in his spellbook you will balk at the obscene drawings in the margins. Again, his eyes will crinkle and he'll say: "I learned from my friend, who gave powers to her god, that the world always needs a little more chaos."

You professor is a strange man with strange antics, as old men are wont to be. But he just might be the strangest of them all. He will laugh and joke, he will ask you to give your opinions, to think for yourself, quiz you on the ethics of wizardry (which is the test most of his students fail, even more than their dreaded final thesis). He will drink dead-people-tea and occasionally talk about a traveller named Artie, who apparently stops by from time to time. He's voyaged aboard legendary ships such as the Nein Heroez and was close friends with Archmage Beck, a Shadowhand, as well as a Plank King. You will be convinced that not even half of his stories are true—there can't be a weasel inhabited by an archfey pretending to be a god, surely not—but then he returns with proof and you will have to reconsider your entire worldview. 

Once he will walk around and gesticulate with his spellbook and a pressed flower will float out. When they ask about it, he will reply: "This is a lesson I learned from my gentlest friend: it is important to remember those you love; and it is important to learn how to move on."

Once you realise his offers are genuine, you will stay longer after class and ask if you might see his spellbook. When you look at the first page and ask about the dozens of names and titles that are all attributed to him, he will nod solemnly and say: "If you are in a relationship that does not suit your needs, it is never too late to change your allegiances. This I was taught by my friend who challenged, threatened, and denied a demigod and lived to tell the tale."

You will be taught that wizards do not share, yet that is exactly what your professor asks you to do. So eventually, you have two options. Eventually, you will drop out of his class—his school is not the one you're interested in anyways, you want to learn Evocation which is his third-favourite school. Or, eventually, you will learn to speak up when your professor asks for your opinions. Eventually, you will learn to challenge his. And eventually, you will learn that he will just listen and nod along. In the end, he will praise you for your thoughts and say: "This is what I learned from my considerate friend, who almost let another live his life, because he thought it was the right thing to do: solitude might be safe, but it's not fulfilling. You need to share with others who have the same powers as you do and might just find out that what they do is way cooler." You are not quite sure what that statement has to do with a spectral lollipop.

When you will ask about a spell you try to remake, your professor will smile and offer his help. You had just hoped for advice, maybe, and do not know how to deal with that offer. At your confusion he replies: "I learned from my friend who's an alchemist and detective, that when you work together you just might make the impossible possible. And you just might become who you're meant to be."

You learn how to work with your professor and learn more about his wizard's spellbook. You learn that it is so heavy he cannot lift it without adjusting its gravity. You learn that this is not his first spellbook, that he began creating it with his husband. You learn that there are some pages that are so covered with annotations and corrections, that they are barely legible; some are annotated with glued-in papers that together could cover the entire Academy. You will whisper to your friends about this and he'll hear you and chime in: "This is a lesson I had to learn myself. You will make mistakes and you may regret them. But you cannot erase them, so you will just learn how to live with them, learn from them, and do better in the future." 

At some point, when you are working on your third or fifth or tenth spell, you will reach the part where you are stuck. Where none of the knowledge either of you have amassed, none of the rules and guidelines can help you. Then, your professor will sweep his age-white hair out of his eyes and sigh: "I have almost no lessons left to share with you, but this is what my friend, the pirate, taught me: fuck the rules." Surprisingly to both of you, that will work. Surprisingly to one of you what will solve the problem is a combination of Transmutation and Dunamancy—an idea your professor will not tell you where it originated. 

    When you finish that spell, your professor will laugh and hug you and do a little dance. After, you will finally ask him about his strange wizard's spellbook. Your professor will sigh and deflate and suddenly you will realise just how much time he must have spent on this earth (how long does it take for an elf to even show a single wrinkle? How long until they are looking as ancient as him?)

"It's easy," he will reply, "for this is no wizard's spellbook. This I learned from my husband, who taught young mages like you before me: this is a wizards' spellbook. Every student I ever taught, every friend I ever made, every soul I cared for, I ask to add to this tome." He will smile thoughtfully, tears glimmering in the corner of his eyes." Look," he will say, "it's almost full. Hopefully, in time I may pass it on."

And hopefully, in time you may find that what they tell you is wrong. Hopefully, in time you may find that Professor Essek Widogast and his many lessons from his many friends are right. Hopefully, in time you may pass them on and leave the world better than you found it. 

#My writing #critical role #critical role fanfiction #essek thelyss #the mighty nein #the mighty nine #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #fjord stone #kingsley tealeaf #caduceus clay #veth brenatto #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #shadowgast #sgtober2021 #i literally don't know what to tag this as #this might be the weirdest thing i've ever written #i like it #but it's weird

[mooneloquence]

that's it

(3/4 of the full ficlets I'm posting here to motivate myself to write more in the coming year! These were written and already posted here for Shadowgastober, but I'll post the final one in a few hours (it's my favorite of the four))

Here's some Essek whump ficlet with background, established Shadowgast. Content warnings are: whump, blood loss, panic attacks (maybe), death mention, unconsciousness. Title (technically) from Hozier's "Wasteland, Baby!"

They were still on his tail, he knew it, but he had managed to lose them long enough that he could attempt a teleportation without fear of getting Counterspelled. Turning into a dark corner, he fervently uttered the incantation, lacking his usual poise for casting.

With a flash of arcane energy, Essek appeared in the circle Caleb and him had installed in the small basement of Caleb’s—their?—home in Rexxentrum.

He was safe. A wave of relief washed over him as adrenaline slowly started to leave him, only to skyrocket again as soon as he noticed.

Something was wrong.

The basement was uncharacteristically dark.

He blinked once, twice to try to clear his vision, frowning as the darkness at the edges of his vision not only did not recede, but crept closer.

Ah, right.

He looked down, looked up again as a wave of dizziness made the world tip on its axis before righting itself. He didn't need to see that. It was going to be hell to clean up, he thought as a chuckle escaped him unbidden, half delirious with blood loss.

But he was supposed to be doing something else. His mind strained to remember as his eyes drifted closed, his drifting form tipping forward—he doubted he would still be upright if he had been on his feet. Maybe it had been stupid for him to cast his signature cantrip as soon as he'd sensed danger, but it had helped him with his stealth for a short while, and he was still alive because of it, wasn't he? He was alive, and bleeding all over the permanent teleportation circle, and unconsciousness threatened to overpower him, and there was something he was supposed to...

The potions!

Caleb had insisted on keeping a small cabinet stocked with healing potions for occasions right like this one. That clever, clever young man. Light, he loved him so much. That had to be the thing he was forgetting.

Drifting forward, he felt aimlessly across the wall with his hands. The surge of relief and hope in his chest started swiftly turning into panic. The cabinet was not there. Why was it not there? It had to be, it had been in the same place for the last three years. His eyes searched frantically for it, but his field of vision was narrowing and narrowing and narrowing and everything was a dull gray haze, and the cabinet was not there. His heart, already pounding in his chest as it tried to supply his organs with blood that was not inside him anymore, went into a frenzy. His lungs followed suit.

"Caleb..." he rasped out.

No answer.

He breathed in as much as he could, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest as he did so.

"Caleb," he tried again, getting nothing louder than a whisper. He coughed with the effort anyway, and  his lips became coated with wetness that slowly dripped down his chin.

He hadn't noticed, but at some point he'd stopped hovering and fallen to the ground, ending half propped on the wall.

Head swimming and fuzzy, he closed his eyes and tried again. No words came out. He still felt like he was forgetting something.

An eternity went by, Essek drifting aimlessly in and out of the darkness that felt more like a warm blanket by the second.

He felt like there was something he was supposed to remember. It had to do with... the day? No, not the day. The date . It was...

It was Fessuran 3rd.

Oh.

Oh .

Had he been thinking objectively, he would have come to the conclusion that being chased through Feolinn by assassins that had once been his people was a valid excuse for forgetting he had promised the Mighty Nein to be in Zadash with them for the Harvest’s Close Festival. But he was not, so he whimpered as hot tears slipped through his eyelashes.

Caleb was not home, he was in Zadash with the rest of the Nein, basking in nostalgia, as Beauregard had put it. All of them—mostly Jester; especially Jester—had been so eager to show Essek and Caduceus around, neither of them having experienced a similar festival before. And he had completely forgotten.

Thinking of Jester yanked him out of the pit of despair he had fallen into. A message. He could Send a message. Surely someone would come help, and then maybe they could go back to Zadash and spend the rest of the day there.

Mustering all the concentration he was capable of, he formulated the best message his muddled brain was capable of and attempted to cast. Once again, he let out a panicked whimper.

His hands. He couldn't feel his hands. Nor the rest of his body, for that matter.

It was ironic, Essek thought, to die in the basement of Caleb's home, killed by assassins sent by his former Queen, on the anniversary of the beginning of the war. The war he had helped start, and the Mighty Nein, his friends, his family, had helped end. He would have laughed if he had enough air.

Hopeless, he surrendered to the darkness.

Essek!

The voice was oh so distant, as if someone was calling him from the opposite end of a cavern in Aeor.

Where are you? You're gonna miss the fireworks! Caleb’s been saving you a candied apple, and we found a weird shop that has that—

With that, the message fizzled out, and it was as if those twenty-five words had breathed new life into his lungs. He was stubborn enough to get back in the fight.

With his tongue heavy as if it was made of lead and his throat dry as a Marquesian desert, he wheezed, "Jester... Jester. I'm—" he coughed again— "so sorry... Tell... tell Caleb I'm home..." Suddenly, he was very tired, the bout of energy leaving him as quickly as it had come.

With his last instants of lucidity, he breathed out a pitiful, "Help..."

An amber flash of light pierced through his closed eyelids. There was commotion, and he could swear someone was calling his name, but once again, it was very far away.

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fanfiction #my writing

[rainbowcaleb]

let the Shadowgastober commence!

mega thanks to @professorofeljay for the prompt list!

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast fic #october fic prompt #i have ideas for these prompts :3 #stay tuned #scary shadowgast #shadowgastober 2022

[copperhawkthoughts]

A very little drabble on haunted houses and ghosts for shadowgastober.

#critical role #cr fanfic #the mighty nein #shadowgastober #copperhawk writes

[asheepdraws]

Shadowgastober day 10: cat dads 💖🐈

#shadowgast #sgtober2022 #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #critical role #critical role fanart #Asheepdraws

[blazingstar24]

Summary: Climbing the ladder of power was always Ludinus’s favorite game to play. But with the latest addition to the Ruidus inquires changes the game significantly.

Notes: Lmao Morrigan may have standards, but does Ludinus? Here’s the Ludigoth crackfic I promised. They would be the most toxic ass, evil power couple. Def does not even come close to the Briarwoods but on the same level of evil certainly.

This isn’t my first crackship rodeo, and boy I can’t wait to see how long this goes before it’s unironic. (I can’t believe I wrote this before finishing my shadowgastober fics)

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

The first misconception of secret dealings and back alley scheming is that it is rife with action and grandiose. The truth of the matter is what it always has been: power plays of the inferior and slow thread plucking of the unambitious.

Ludinus suppressed a sigh as Otohan and the various Unseelie squabbled over every little thing. If he wanted to listen to thinly veiled jabs and idiocy, he would have stayed in Rexxentrum. The Cerberus Assembly did not pale in comparison nor did it rise above this collection of powerful individuals. It merely remained stagnant in its progress. Much like this meeting.

He had hoped these inquires into Ruidus would turn up something fruitful. Something powerful. And yet nothing. Nothing but a trail of messy assassinations. Even the now bygone volstruckers could do better. If they had nothing to show, then Ludinus would be withdrawing his contributions to this cause. Gods know he was the one truly giving Otohan’s little gang the power to move in Marquet.

“If this is all we have to present today, I shall be taking my leave.” Ludinus said, rising from his seat.

Otohan held up a hand. “Just one moment, Martinet. I have one more announcement that may pique your interest.”

The elven man raised an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue.

“I am not too proud to admit that our work has stalled. We have yet to gain any true knowledge of our goal. My time in the Apex War left me with many things. One of which is a connection that may be of good use to us.”

As Otohan finished her speech, she gestured to her right and materializing from the shadows, appeared a tall long limbed fey. The Unseelie hissed their disapproval as the fey crept closer into view. His unnatural smile widening at their reproach.

“I believe you all will know him best as The Nightmare King. But this is—”

“Ira Wendagoth”

The fey gave a mock bow and his huge black eyes caught Ludinus’s gaze. The elf remained stoic, but Otohan was right. His interest was certainly piqued, as per usual, Ira Wendagoth had waltzed back into his life without warning. Ira’s smile grew even wider as the fey took in Ludinus.

“What exactly are you proposing by bringing him here?” growled an Unseelie assassin.

“I have filled him in on what we have been researching and he has offered to help us as he has a few theories of his own.”

“And what have you asked for in return?” Ludinus asked, his unflinching gaze focused on Ira.

Ira waved a hand in the air. “Nothing really. Truly I was bored with all this peace on the Material Plane. This however, will certainly be shaking things up.”

The Unseelie looked unphased, knowing the trickery in the word of the Fey. Nothing can be gained without the exchange of something dear. Ludinus merely nodded and gave his show of approval to Otohan. If she wanted to play the game, it would be her head on the block.

“If everyone approves?” Otohan asked, her tone explicitly saying this wasn’t up for debate.

No one spoke up and Otohan nodded. “Then this meeting is adjourned. We meet again tomorrow to discuss Ira’s plans.”

****

Ludinus waited until everyone left the room before standing once more.

“One might think you have formed an attachment to me, with all these appearances.”

Ira crawled out from the shadows once more and chuckled.

“An attachment? No. An interest? Yes.”

The fey stood at his full height, towering over Ludinus, before bending to be at face level with the elf. His long spindly finger reached out to run through a stray lock of hair. Ludinus’s face betrayed nothing but a slight smirk.

“No mortal has had quite the same thirst for knowledge as you do. And certainly not the conviction or drive to obtain it. You are….an interesting creature.”

“Flattery will get you no info out of me, Ira. I know Otohan isn’t stupid enough to tell you everything.”

Ira leaned in closer and Ludinus did not back away.

“Not now, of course. But in due time, you will tell me everything. You always do…..dearest~” Ira sang.

Ludinus let out a huff of amusement and began to walk away.

“Alone in your tower, with all that pretty little knowledge in your head. All those secrets and not a soul to tell. Of course no one would understand…..”

Ludinus paused in his stride. “Ira—“

“Anyone who could…..well only we know what happened.”

“Ira.”

“What happened in that gray mist. When you touched that relic—“

A firebolt streaked across the room towards Ira, but he deftly dodged it. His smiled went to its full width as the fey looked at Ludinus. The elf’s eyes barely contained rage and another unreadable emotion…to anyone but Ira.

“There it is.” purred Ira.

“Watch your tongue, Wendagoth.”

“Always so fun to be around, Da’leth.”

Ludinus steeled his face back into an impassive expression and turned to walk out.

“We’ll have great fun working together again, dearest~”

#ludigoth #ludinus da'leth #ira wendagoth #cr fic #lmao will I continue this series? #probably 😂

[quinn-of-aebradore]

oooo i'd love to hear about "fucking trouble"! wizardssssss

So Fucking trouble is the current name of my next Shadowgastober fic, which I’m doing for the Day 9 prompt “Professor(s)”. It’s a bit of a follow up to Half awake, I wander through this house in which Caleb and Essek go to Emon for a conference/gathering of the Arcana Pansophical. I haven’t actually started it yet, I’m going to later tonight, but there’s gonna be a lot of wizards in one place. Absolute trouble.

Send me the title of a WIP of mine and I’ll tell you about it

#ask games #WIP ask game #quinn answers

[imalsoscarlet]

Leaves (Or Grief In Autumn)

Made for day 1 of shadowgastober

Content Warning: this fanfiction deals with grief and has themes of death

Verin is dead

Essek holds this news in his heart. Beauregard stands before him. She's the unfortunate messenger.

"Leave," Essek says with grieving nvenom in his voice. "LEAVE."

Beauregard flinches. Her eyes go wide. Her hand reaches out. Essek turns away.

"Please."

"You don't have to be alone in this Essek," Beauregard says, "I know- The Mighty Nein knows grief. We are here for you."

"Ja," came Caleb's voice. A hand on his shoulder. "Tell us what you need and we can provide."

Essek runs. He runs through their living room, down their hallway. To their bedroom. He locks the door. He falls to the floor, back pressed against the door. The silver ring on his left hand buries itself in silver white hand. The star shaped pearl on it digs into his scalp. A sob escapes him. A gasp escapes him. A weight settles onto this

He doesn't deserve to do this. He should have been there for Verin. Verin is dead. Not temporarily. Verin had been outside of a beacon. He was gone forever. Maybe if Verin had been in trouble he could have told-

Outside the bedroom, window, autumn was in full bloom. The trees of the world painted in red, orange, yellow. Essek catches this as he stumbles to the bed. He stops. He stares. The trees will bloom. Plants will come back to life. Verin will not.

He stares.

The world stops around him. In this moment, there is only the leaves falling outside his window. Essek's breathing in the mourning silence.

Silence.

A steady breath.

Another.

He crawls into the bed. Teary eyes watch the leaves fall. Sobs into mourning silence.

Silence.

A door opening.

A pale hand upon dark lavender skin.

"Essek. Schatz."

"Lay next to me," Essek whispers in that terrible silence. "Watch the colors fall with me."

Caleb says nothing more. There's a weight on the bed. Arms around Essek. A gentle Zemininan voice. Hushed tone.

Leaves fall in brilliant colors.

#critical role #campaign 2 #prompt writing #fanfiction #critical role fanfiction #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadogast #shadowgastober

[microcosmtoxin]

day one of shadowgastober is upon us!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34209730/chapters/85117885

contrary to popular belief. i can still write.

text below the cut

day 1: fall leaves (post canon/fluff/drabble/cottage au of sorts?)

The leaves are changing just outside Rexxentrum, the sun shining through the leaves is no longer glowing green, but glowing a warm orange.

Essek Widogast awoke just as the sun’s light streamed through the window above Caleb and his bed. By some gift of the gods, the light hit Caleb’s hair, making it glow auburn bright.

Essek took the moment to press a kiss to Caleb’s temple. He settled back and reached for his book, a recommendation from Jester. It was just romance trash, but Essek had been coming around to it, since the Dynasty looked down on such “frivioulus” things, expanding his horizons to “trash” had been a fun adventure.

The human next to him slowly awoke as the hours bled together. He stretched out and grumbled.

Essek ruffled his hair “You are just like a cat in the morning,”

Caleb slowly open his eyes and curled into a ball, fitting right into Essek’s side.

Their morning continued calmly, eating breakfast, getting dressed into comfortable warm clothes, feeding the cats, drinking a morning tea and sitting in their morning room.

“Would you like to go for a walk my darling?” Essek asked, looking up from his book.

“Yes, I think Beau said her records said this was the best time of year to see the leaves.”

“Only the Cobalt Soul would measure something like colors of leaves.” Essek mumbled, putting down his book.

“What, do you think it’s silly?” Caleb chuckled, pulling on his coat and shoes.

“I think it’s frivolous, it’s simply leaves” Essek replied, following suit.

Caleb opened the door and smiled, “Ah, but without it, how would we know about this.” Caleb opened the door, revealing a beautiful scene of bright warm toned leaves, painting the brown outlines of the trees surrounding their home.

“Yes we would. We have windows.” Essek playfully deadpanned.

“Sigh, will you ever be satisfied schatz.” Caleb replied, matching his tone.

Essek linked their arms together as they stepped out into the woods. They set out onto the path and walked, their arms swinging in time together.

#shadowgast #shadowgastober 2021 #critical role