#yes i will continue to have feelings about essek i love him so much and hes grown so much aahhh

[thebest-medicine]

Day 2: Accidental

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - Campaign 2 - lee!Essek

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

A/N: It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss. It was only a kiss. (Shadowidomauk but Caleb is out getting groceries or spell supplies ok.) [read on AO3]

Words: 661

—

From the floor, Essek makes his best attempt at a glower, his face fixed on Mollymauk, who sits above him, a few inches away, on the love seat. He tries his best to ignore the burning feeling rising in his cheeks as he takes in Molly’s absolutely devious grin.

They both stare, energy tense and prickling in the air, waiting for the other to make a move. 

Instead of attempting to dissuade him or plead, when Essek opens his mouth it is to start the incantation for Misty Step. Not the brightest move, but he was still yet unaware of just how good Molly was becoming at hindering a spellcaster in close range (thanks, Caleb).

“Well,” Mollymauk interrupts as he pounces off the love seat and onto the drow below. “This afternoon just became much more interesting.”

– 

A few minutes earlier, Essek had been thinking things would take a very different direction. He was laying against the love seat in the study he shared with Caleb beneath a very persuasive tiefling. The books the wizard had been studying lay strewn about on the nearby table. He had gotten less than an hour of studying in while Caleb was out before Molly traipsed into the study and demanded affection. He had asked Essek to read something to him on the chair, but that quickly devolved into him snuggling into the drow’s chest and starting to pepper kisses on his cheeks, taking his lips soon after. The book Essek brought over tumbled out of his hand as he readjusted to kiss him a bit deeper.

This was still rather new for Essek, Molly was quite a different type of partner than Caleb. They both shared a streak of mischief, though Molly was much more ornery about it. Mollymauk also showed his affection much more openly, and while Caleb pushed his mind, Molly pushed his… buttons. In the best of ways. Though it was sometimes not without inconvenience or embarrassment. Speaking of embarrassment… 

They made out for a few minutes before Mollymauk’s kisses began to trail off of his lips and catch the edge of his chin. Essek leaned his head back, eyes fluttering shut as he hummed. Molly kissed his way down Essek’s neck, nipping once or twice playfully. Essek was smiling, a pleasant squirm baring his neck further. Molly kissed just below his ear and Essek tensed up a bit, shaking it off when he pulled away.

Molly gave him a curious look, one that Essek barely registered, eyes trained on Molly’s lips, and leaned down and nipped at the side of his ear.

Essek let out a squeak, his whole body jumping with a flinch. 

Molly made a pleased sound and started to kiss and nibble the edge of his ear, from base to point. Essek screeched, hands coming up to push at Molly’s head and shoulders. “Wait- wait!” He laughed as his voice caught up to his brain. Molly blew slightly into his ear and Essek scrambled to the side, sliding out from underneath the tiefling and onto the floor, his cheeks bright. “Molly.”

– 

Essek would like to think he doesn’t shriek when Molly bounds after him, the attempt at Misty Step fizzling off his lips. Instead of somatics, his hands scramble to grab Molly’s arms. He rolls a bit, squirming to get out of the way. 

“Light above- you- you’ll kill me!” Essek cries out. He shuffles on the ground beneath Molly, wrists pinned near the sides of his head.

“Oh, I’ll do no such thing.” Molly pouts. He sounds so sweet, almost songlike as he continues. “So, tell me, are your ears the only place you’re ticklish?” 

“No!” Essek flushes more. “I-I mean, yes- I- I-” He feels giggles already starting to build up in his chest.

“Well which is it? No? Yes?” Mollymauk teases. 

Essek’s eyes meet his, frantic and bright. He shakes his head as he fights off a smile.

“Guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”

#tickletober 2023 #tickletober23 #ticklish!essek #shadowidomauk fluff #critickle role #fluff #shadowidomauk #essek thelyss #mollymauk tealeaf #tickling #mine #cute cute cute #accidental tickles #then you get tickled for real #make out ? no. get tickled. #shadowmauk #critical role #fic #tickletober 23

[spottedenchants]

Hey chanse, hope this isn't too weird but I just wanted to thank you for the touching sentiments series. Fandom is really good for finding fic with aspec perspectives and I've noticed essek/sg fic has a lot of it even compared to that. But I've never read anything like ts and it means a lot to me. I've been thinking lately about relationship dynamics as performances, and if you use that metaphor, a QPR is a performance of some really obscure play that I keep hearing about and it sounds SO good but i cant imagine how it would actually look, much less see myself as an actor in a production. And especially with your most recent two fics-- there is such intimacy between both Essek and Jester and essek and Caleb in these different ways, and at the same time, even when essek and Caleb straight up have sex, Essek is still at the same place on the ace/aro spectrum the whole time and it's just. Really nice to see, if that makes sense. I've read aromantic/asexual/QPR stories where sex and romance are just not on the table at all, and while those are great it's really comforting to see a story that blurs the lines even deeper than that. Not to get too serious about it, but it's so hard realizing you're gonna spend a lot of your life trying to write your own relationship blueprints, and I really can't emphasize enough what a comfort it is to know that someone else has thought about it enough to be able to write it out the way you have, and I'm really really grateful for it.

Hi hi! If a ‘thank you’ is weird, then I give you an equally weird ‘thank you for reading’ right back :3

(got rambly so the rest is under the cut xD)

I've definitely found fandom to be an excellent place to engage with aspec stories and feel very lucky to have found a corner where they feel not only accepted, but celebrated in good faith, and I am touched (ha :D) that Touching Sentiments has found a unique place in your mind and heart! 💜

As far as I’ve personally read (though tbf I have not read nearly as much published aspec fiction as I would like), I definitely get what you mean about the yes/no dichotomies of sex and romance that often show up in stories with aspec characters. ‘No’ is a lived truth for a lot more people than pop culture tends to imply, aspec or not, and I heartily agree that it’s very cool to see in print and on screen that ‘no, never’ is an option in the first place. :D It also has the benefit of being a very convenient shorthand to express a character’s orientation in a self-contained story that isn’t About their orientation, but also I get what you mean about wanting to see the lines blurred with ‘maybe’ more often. (Though that can get tangled in the whole ‘aces/aros can still conform to amatonormative standards’ side of things, which I really don’t have a solution for other than continuing to write and engage with aspec stuff, cause it’s hard to have a spectrum with only two points and getting multiple perspectives is the only way I really know how to build it out).

That’s definitely one of the reasons why I’ve found fanfic to be such a cool medium to write in- there’s soooo much room to really dig into nitty gritty details that a fixed story might not have the same space for! What is romance, what is sex, what is care, what is intimacy, what is love? *cue the music* We’re throwing out the dictionary here and writing our own so that everyone’s on the same page. >:3

I don’t have the bulk of these things posted yet, but TS!Essek’s intimacy with each of the Nein is very important to me and all of it is for sure flavored by his sexuality, and I am Thrilled that you've found him to be consistent!! I don't necessarily think TS goes deeper than other explorations in which the characters in question discuss or display their feelings around sex and romance, especially in the the fanfic scene, I’ve just published quite a lot of it and am reaping the benefits of breadth; no single TS fic needs to be everything or display every facet of him, it just needs to be whatever sliver it is. :3 (also I Do have a few cr fic recs (mostly sg) off the top of my head that dig into those lines of intimate conversation if you are interested :D)

As for relationships as performances! That is a lovely metaphor and I entirely understand what you mean, same hat and everything xD In some ways, I consider TS to be a very informal study log/synthesis paper on exactly that, and the script has just gotten more nuanced as I go xD That said, if you or anyone else is interested in the sorts of things I’ve researched to build the flavor of TS!Essek’s relationships with the Nein, I recommend searching up ‘relationship anarchy’ and ‘queerplatonic relationships’ specifically for further means of describing interpersonal relationships outside of the framework of amatonormativity, and then ‘loveless aromantic’ and ‘lovequeer’ for conversations about varying definitions of love and its applications both as a term and a concept.

I’ve also found pre-written/referenceable materials like Relationship Anarchy Smorgasbords and Yes No Maybe lists to be very helpful with relationship blueprints, too. The latter are often about the expression of sexuality as a whole, and they involve individualized thresholds of things ranging from states of dress to preferred anatomical terms to hygiene to safety to what is/isn’t deemed sexual, and other such points of emotional and physical intimacy as well. (Also I recommend Scarleteen just in general. very useful very informative very comprehensive groundwork)

I am sososo heartened to know you’ve found so much comfort in TS 🥺 It’s been almost three years since I started writing, period, and I am very glad my writing has been received with such grace and patience. Thank you for sharing your enthusiasm with me! I hope you continue to find stories that speak to you, and am grateful you've allowed mine to be a part 💜

#words!!! #words words yay #i could talk for a While about the intricacies of ts!essek's sexuality as i've carved it out so far #almost did here but it would have been Quite a digression xD #orientation and expression and identity and and and #people are all so intricate and unique #it's fascinating #he is a vessel of investigation and discovery #ALSO if you or anyone has recs for aspec fiction please gimme i wanna read them #talesofsymphoniac #chanswers

[ariadne-mouse]

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

(~1k words, cw: lifespan angst)

-

“Essek!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Essek agrees, fondly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At last, Essek speaks.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or if you simply wish to be unattached—”

“No, it’s not that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Essek nods.  “Yes.”

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

“Alright.”

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

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

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

[pitchblackkoi]

i’ve had this for ages but here is a piece of a wip i’ve had for over a year now. i’ve been working on it again and maybe posting will bully me into finishing it. so here’s some of my shadowgast childhood friends au

When the server has gone and Caleb has a hot coffee sitting in front of him he asks “So, what is it that you do these days?”

Essek perks up at this. “I’m at the Marble Tomes Conservatory. Mostly I teach classes, but I do have some time dedicated to research. I’ve been able to invent a few spells of my own, actually,” he tells Caleb, speaking with an energy that is incredibly familiar.

“I am happy for you, friend,” he says, a genuine smile on his face. “It’s all we ever dreamed of as boys. I assume your area of expertise is dunamancy?”

“Yes, graviturgy specifically,” Essek answers. “When I started school here I got access to so much knowledge about magic and dunamancy, in particular, was fascinating. Using magic to manipulate the workings of the universe. It really was beyond any of our imaginings as children.”

And just like that Essek is off talking about magic theory, enthusiastically gesturing with his hands as he explains complicated concepts that he clearly understands very well. Caleb is listening intently, filing it all away to be examined alongside what else he knows of dunamancy at a later time. Mostly he is focusing on Essek himself, the way his ornate earrings sway as he talks, how bright his eyes look as he talks about his passion, and the way his sleeves are rolled up to show off his forearms. Even when their food arrives (sandwiches with a small bowl of soup that reminds him of meals they ate in his little house as children) he only pauses briefly to take a bite of his food before he’s off again. It’s endlessly endearing and makes him smile.

Caleb realizes the danger of this, of course. It would be so easy to fall back in love with Essek. As far as he can see he is close enough to the boy he knew and loved that it wouldn’t even be difficult. He’s never been good at letting things go. But it would be doomed to failure from the start because he would have to tell Essek about what happened after he left and he would never feel the same way after that.

Essek seems to catch himself after a while. “Ah, but I have gone on for a long time. What have you been doing? I do wonder what landed you in Rosohna.”

He sets his sandwich to the side, trying to decide what to disclose while he finishes chewing. “My friends and I are renting a house on the edge of the Gallimaufry. A lot of us are just doing odd jobs. Jester spends her days working in a bakery, Veth is at a small apothecary, things like that. When money gets tight sometimes we’ll do bounties to make ends meet, whatever we have to.”

“Bounties?” Essek asks, eyes wide.

“Ja, usually someone needs to get rid of a monster for some reason or another, and my friends and I became adept at killing them as we traveled together,” he says with a shrug. “We get by and usually it’s good money. We would rather not if we can help it, but it doesn’t always work out that way.”

“I must say it surprises me to hear that you adventure for money,” Essek confesses. “I always imagined your pursuits would be of the more… academic variety.”

Caleb gives him a wan smile. “Unfortunately it is not always easy to focus on academics and pay the bills. As it is I can only spend some of my time teaching magic to some children in the Coronas.” His smile turns genuine at this. “It doesn’t pay much but I enjoy it too much to stop. If I have to use my magical capabilities to kill monsters so that I can continue to teach, so be it.”

“So what is your specialty? I had always wondered which school you would land on,” the drow asks.

“Transmutation magic is my specialty, though I have some skill in evocation as well,” he answers, feeling much more comfortable discussing magic. It is well-tread ground between the two of them as well as something he feels confident discussing.

This makes Essek give him a fond grin. “I should have known. It is the school with the most flexibility, the most room for creativity and change. It is perfect for you.”

The words send a feeling of relief flowing through him. It’s a confirmation that though he has changed much, maybe some of the boy he once was still lives on in him. His oldest friend recognizes him in even the way he does magic, which is the closest thing to his soul that he has. It’s almost a validation that he chose right when he tried to pick back up the pieces and relearn the art.

“Ah, Danke, Essek. It has done well for me and given me the tools to tinker with spells where I can. All magic is personal, but I find that understanding the intricacies of transmutation lets me make bigger changes than those that come naturally. It just takes a bit of working through,” Caleb begins to explain.

The drow just looks at him with a smile, lunch set to the side as he looks at his friend affectionately. The expression on his face makes Caleb pause in his explanation.

“Ah, sorry. I don’t want to bore you with things that you already know,” he says, blushing a little bit. He can’t believe he’s trying to explain basic magic theory to someone who actually finished their schooling and teaches at a high level, in a lesser-known and complex school of magic no less.

Essek waves away his worries with a hand. “No, that’s not it. It’s just nice getting to watch you get excited about magic once again. I missed it. I missed you.”

Something in Caleb’s chest melts at the words and he smiles warmly. “I missed you, as well. I am glad fate has brought us together once again,” he replies.

This, however, causes Essek to make a sour expression. “I don’t know if I subscribe to the idea of fate,” he admits. “My time in the dynasty especially has put me off of it. Not just because I practice dunamancy, either, but because of how it is talked about as fact here, an absolute.” He pauses, considering. “But if some grand design has brought our paths together again I cannot help but find myself grateful.”

#shadowgast #critical role #my fic #childhood friends au #i just kinda decided to smash together my love of childhood friends to lovers and these wizards #modern urban fantasy au as well #any feedback wld be lovely #wld love to finish this already 10k+ fic

[flappingduster]

flirtynein and/or get that robo dick

aaah flirty Nein, my beloved this is inspired by @wtgw-fic​‘s mushroom fic, which she talked about over here 

It made me laugh way too much and I started that fanart months ago when the snippets for it were written 

as for the robo dick, that’s the ‘Essek falls in love with an automaton down the line’ fic that I’ve not touched in a whole while, but it’s set maybe a few hundred years after canon  Aifl folks provided the name Bob which made me snort hard enough that I went with it lmao

have some snippets from two unrelated scenes

“Fascinated by the technology and having access to an Aeormaton that was privy to information of how to build us, Ka'lith Mirimm had started to acquire components to build automatons for all sorts of purposes. By the time I was made, they had been building them for 13 decades. I am, through outstanding sourced materials, far more advanced than my predecessors."

  Essek snorted and turned around to face Bob just to lift an eyebrow and look at them. "Well now we're just bragging, aren't we, my friend." A gentle laugh erupted from their body and once pleased, Essek leaned back into his previous space. "Continue," he prompted before Bob obliged with a hint of delight. "Yes. Now, this of course was quite an exposition to provide context. The rest I can show you from my cache of memory." (...) "I am your companion, you need not be shy in your desire."  Essek's breath caught as he heard them say those words, feeling a flush rise to his face at being so directly called out. Still he could only feel his desire for the automaton grow. Bit by bit, as they let their hands move on him, he gave in and closed his eyes, guiding one of the mechanical hands to the closure of his robes. "You are terribly accommodating, my friend. I do not wish to take advantage of anything you're not offering freely. If you want this, want me, you can go ahead." He could hear gentle noises from his companion as he moved, their hand then skillfully and easily opening up his robes despite the finicky small buttons. Essek's breath hitched once the warm fingers touched his skin directly. So different from human hands he was once so familiar with feeling, yet just as warm and pleasant in their gentle pressure.

#dusty answers #my scribbles #that flirty nein wip has one of my cuter art styles that I didn't know I had

[ayzenigma]

Essek and grief vs guilt

As with last week, there really is something wonderfully appropriate in who is affected by what Somnovem eye beam, and specifically I've been thinking about Essek and the slow effect from Luctus.

Specifically how Luctus evokes intense feelings of grief, not guilt (that's Culpasi) which would also have been appropriate given his arc, and how that grief I feel is honestly even better than guilt in some ways.

Guilt can be, and generally is, based around regret of your own actions, feeling bad for something you specifically did. Guilt is more singular, more individual. And we know Essek does feel guilt for his actions now, or at least something close to it.

But grief? In a lot of ways I think grief necessitates connection to others. It's about missing the connections with and between others, about what was, or what could been. Grief comes from caring for or about others, and for Essek, who did not find it within himself to really care for others before the Nein? That's pretty huge.

And sure, the intense, action and movement slowing grief was caused by the eye, but his utter grief and despair at the end when they failed to rez Molly? His repetition of "It's not fair"? Essek cares so so much, about someone he has never met, doesn't know at all, but still cares for because his friends, the people he cares for, care about Molly, so he can care by extension too.

Idk I'm just full of feelings about Essek and how he's grown so much from the selfish creature he once only knew himself as.

#critical role #c2e140 #essek thelyss #cr spoilers #cr meta #my posts #yes i will continue to have feelings about essek i love him so much and hes grown so much aahhh #full disclosure this is 95% me having feelings and like 5% me being lowkey annoyed by 'essek being slowed by built' lmao #i have chosen this hill and i will die on it apparently #but its mostly feelings. and just. essek! learning to care! aaahhh #and this is all to say nothing of grief and death and how little experience essek might have with all that in the dynasty #others have brought that up and i am just ;--;

[the-kaedageist]

The prompt for this snippet, requested by my friend Kat, was “Caleb starts a waltzing club at Soltryce”. I hope you all enjoy!

The waltzing club ended up being Jester’s idea. During one of her visits to Rexxentrum, she and Fjord had accompanied Caleb and a disguised Essek to the dance hall, where Caleb had cajoled Essek into a dance. After, as they sat back down, Jester propped her chin on her hands and peered at him.

Caleb was still weak to those eyes. “Ja?” he asked. “What can I do for you, Fraulein Lavorre?”

“You love to dance,” she stated. “You should do more of it!”

Whatever Caleb had been expecting, it was not that. “More of it?” he repeated.

“You’re a good teacher,” Jester continued. “You taught Essek the steps and he was SO bad at it when he started!” Across the table, Essek made a face at her, but it wasn’t as stern as the one he’d have given anyone else. “And you taught me! You should teach dancing.”

Caleb opened his mouth to reply…and realized that she had a point. He was busy at Soltryce, yes - but why not find a way to teach students how to dance as well?

Thus, the waltzing club was born.

The first week, Caleb only had four students in attendance. Thankfully, it was an even number, so he could pair them off and slowly teach them the steps to a waltz that he had learned himself when he was their age.

As he watched the students move around the room to music produced from a whimsical spell that Jester had taught him, his mind drifted back to the memories of his own youth, before Ikithon. When it had been just the three of them, happy and curious and so talented, and he’d had huge crushes on both of his closest friends that he felt like he could never do anything about…

“Professor?” a student called, snapping him out of his nostalgia and bringing him back to the present. It was a welcome reminder that he would never be that child again.

The next week, the number of students tripled dramatically. Presumably, the first bunch had told their friends to attend, and the classroom was filled with excited chatter as Caleb queued up the musical cantrip and asked the students from the first session to teach the waltz they’d learnt to the rest. With a lot of laughter and smiles, the students untangled their feet and slowly remembered the steps.  

The waltzing club grew and grew. Week after week, more students joined, learning the dances from the ones who came before them. Some of them brought dances from their own homelands or cultures, and Caleb began to weave those in as well, allowing them to demonstrate and teach the steps as though sharing a part of themselves. One evening, feeling the thrill of something illicit, he even taught them a traditional dance from Xhorhas, practiced together with Essek in the study of his small house over laughter and wine, over and over until he remembered the steps well enough to teach.

The club had been running for an entire semester when he received his strangest visitor yet. He was helping one of his transfiguration students, a serious wide-eyed firbolg, walk her way through the steps of a new dance when a familiar voice sounded out behind him. “I should have known it was you behind this dancing club, Bren.”

He turned to take in the sight of Astrid, leaning against the door frame and watching with an expression that, after all this time, he no longer could read. He straightened, leaving his student to practice the dance on her own, and walked over to stand next to Astrid, mirroring her casual posture. In his head, flashes of memory superimposed themselves over the image of her; Astrid, seventeen and laughing as he spun her around; Astrid and Wulf, dancing beautifully as Bren tried to tease them and cause them to lose their footing. It didn’t hurt like it used to, not after so much time.

“Of course it was me,” he said in Zemnian. He thought for a moment and then added, “Would you care to dance?” Somehow, it didn’t feel like he’d opened a wound.

She considered it. Glanced around at the students, noting their smiles and the ease of their laughter. Possibly remembering a time long ago when theirs had been the same.

“I would love to,” she replied, and held out her hand.

#critical role #caleb widogast #jester lavorre #shadowgast #astrid beck #astrid becke #professor widogast #critical role fics #fic snippets #my fics #please pardon the author who has never danced in her life #these snippets are really stretching my ability to write what I don't know #it's good practice!

[dhwty-writes]

The Terribly Sad and Tragic Affair that Is the Fake Funeral of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss

Apparently, I am not only drawing for the Critical Role fandom, but writing for it, too. After months of nearly no progress I just vomited out 3k words this Tuesday and it only went downhill from there.

This fic is based on this post by @anne-o-nyme, I really hope I managed to capture the energy of it.

Have fun!

Summary: There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience.

After the sudden "death" of Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, it is his brother Verin's job to empty out his towers. The Mighty Nein show up to help (and maybe steal a few things).

OR: Verin is grieving, Essek just wants his stuff back, and the Mighty Nein are the Mighty Nein.

Warnings: I didn't tag this with MCD, because Essek is technically alive and kicking. Since Verin doesn't know that though, and this fic is written from his POV, this is dealing with grief and includes depictions of depressive thoughts as well as anxiety attacks. For more explicit warnings, please mind the tags on AO3. Take care of yourselves, and let me know if I forgot anything.

Read on AO3

There were eight strangers in the foyer of his dead brother's towers and Verin Thelyss was slowly losing his patience. "Listen," he said with what little calm he had left, "I know that by returning one of our beacons you became heroes of the Dynasty and were placed under Es— My bro— his stewardship. But this here—" he gestured vaguely at the interior of Essek's towers that had always been too cold, too empty, but not like now, never like now— "This is a very difficult situation for me, so if you could please leave, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Yes, yes, it's very sad that Essek died," the blue tiefling said—Jester, her name was Jester; she had given him that already as she had offered him her condolences with a hug—and Verin could barely contain his anger. After the funeral he had quite enough of lying dignitaries, nobles, and heroes currying favours with him. That had always been Essek's thing, he would know what to do, how to make them regret even daring to speak up; Verin had never been any good at it.

"But we're his friends!" He grit his teeth at Jester's blatant falsehood. Perhaps his anger showed on his face, since the tiefling faltered. "And, uh— Fjord?"

"It's true," the half-orc with too-smooth words and too-smooth voice lied, too. "We spent quite some time with your, er— your brother here. Made some good memories. We thought we might take this as our chance to say goodbye, too."

"We are here to help as well. We wouldn't want to infringe upon your grief, though," the tall firbolg added. "So, if you'd prefer us to return at a later point, we'd be happy to."

Verin was still trying to process everything—from these strangers showing up unannounced to their overwhelming presence to the fact that his brother was dead—while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the halfling who looked like she might have sticky fingers. So, he latched onto the word that stood out the most to him: "Help?"

"Right," Fjord said, looking slightly embarrassed, "we probably should have led with that..."

"We should have called ahead, too," the scary-looking human in blue—they didn't even wear white for the funeral—added. "We always forget to call ahead."

"But Beau, how should we have called ahead?" Jester complained. "We didn't know Verin yet."

"Well, Essek—" the human was interrupted by the even scarier-looking woman next to her stepping on her foot unsubtly. She at least had the decency to act embarrassed. "Right. Sorry 'bout that."

Awkward silence fell across the room, the Mighty Nein looking anywhere but him. It took him a few moments to realise they were waiting for him to speak up. "Help how?" Verin could have kicked himself. By the Light, he could do better than that. He had to do better than that.

A beat of silence followed, then everyone seemed to talk at once. Verin wanted to weep. How was he supposed to deal with this? How had his brother dealt with this? 'He probably hasn't,' he thought. 'They're probably all liars, probably—'

Someone cleared their throat and all eyes turned to the other human who hadn't said anything so far and who looked properly miserable. Immediately, the Mighty Nein fell silent. "Word has reached us that Den Thelyss ordered these premises to be vacated as early as possible," he said quietly with an accent Verin has been taught that belonged to the enemy. "And while some of us may not look like much, I can assure you, we are quite capable."

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "I supposed such menial tasks are beneath the heroes of the dynasty. There are servants—"

"Well, sure," the halfling with the probably sticky fingers interrupted, "but we know him. Knew him, I mean; sorry, force of habit."

"Besides, there's a lot of stuff," the lavender tiefling, who Verin was pretty sure was a known pirate, piped up. "Looks like you could use the help."

"If you want to, of course," the sad Empire human added.

Verin only wanted to scream, to give room to the torrent of thoughts raging in his head. 'My brother just died. My brother just died and he wasn't consecuted, so he's gone for good. He's gone for good and I didn't even know him; I didn't even know about these supposed friends he had because he didn't allow me near him in decades. I was a horrible brother and so was he, but I can't even be mad at him because he's dead.

'And now these liars show up and talk about friendship and knowing him, but those are all lies, horrible ones, because Essek had no friends. Essek was cold and cruel and lonely and do you even know how horrible that is? Dying alone with no-one who mourns you, just the favours you still owe them? Do you? I don't even know, and I'm his brother.'

Were he a weaker man, a less disciplined one, he might have said so. But he was Taskhand Verin of Den Thelyss and he had learned discipline before he had learned to talk. So, he said: "Your help would be greatly appreciated, thank you. I'll have the servants bring up some tea. There are, uh—" He straightened his back, summoning the composure that was befitting a Taskhand, even one with a dead brother. "There are boxes up there, they've been brought to the rooms already. Anything of value will be sold; the rest will be given to charity. The things— Well, if you find anything that might have sentimental value, something in his handwriting, perhaps, I think I should like to keep that, please."

The firbolg nodded sagely. "Of course. We will be careful with our selection."

With that, Verin turned around and— froze. Where was he even supposed to start? The towers had always seemed to huge for just Essek and he knew that there were very few personal belongings in them. Still, they would have to be scoured clean within the fortnight.

A large hand on his shoulder made him jump, although he'd never admit it. "Sometimes, when a task seems too large, you should start with the smallest part," the firbolg said. "If I were you, I'd start with the smallest room."

"Thank you, that, uh— that seems like good advice," Verin replied, still a bit startled and confused. "I, er— I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."

"Caduceus Clay. I live in a graveyard, so I'm used to this," Clay said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

Verin furrowed his brows slightly. A graveyard? It seemed highly unlikely to him that one of the heroes of the Dynasty would live in a graveyard of all places. Perhaps they were not only liars, but impostors too? But they had the symbols of the Bright Queen, so there wasn't much that he could say.

"Right," he mumbled. "I believe the smallest room would be the closet. Although it might be tied with the bathroom..." He trailed off again. He had never seen Essek's bedroom in his towers. Judging by how many times he had even seen the inside of the building; he could count himself lucky if he even found the way there.

"Why don't we split up?" Clay suggested. "One group takes the closet, one the bathroom and one the bedroom. We'd get done sooner that way."

"That is a great idea, Caduceus," Jester said excitedly. "I'll take the bathroom; I promised— er, I'm curious if I can find more of that hair oil, I got for Fjord that one time!"

"Ohhh, are you saying this is... an investigation?!" the halfling joined in.

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Veth!"

"Seems like a case for Wildemount's best detectives!"

"Bye, Verin!" Jester called and he blinked and they were gone. Fjord joined them as well, muttering something about having to supervise them.

The purple pirate-tiefling shrugged, heading off in the same direction. "Well, I wouldn't mind rifling through some drawers. I'll have a look at that bedroom."

"Yeah, I don't need to see Essek's underwear, so I'll pass on the closet," Beau added tactfully—Verin was getting the sneaking suspicion that manners were not really her strong suit. She linked hands with the large woman at her side, pulling her along. "Come on, Yash."

"I'll go handle the tea," Clay said. "Don't worry about it." He vanished in the direction of the kitchen, his steps accompanied by the constant tap tap tap of his staff.

When Verin looked around, he realised that only the sad Empire human was left with him in the hallway. "If you wouldn't mind," he said, pointedly avoiding eye-contact, "I would love to have a look at the closet. I always, ah— appreciated your brother's sense of fashion."

Verin blinked at him a few times, then shrugged. "Sure." He began heading up the stairs.

"My condolences," the human continued. "I realise I didn't speak up earlier, but— I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said, letting the same numb feeling wash over him again that he had embraced since the news of Essek's death had reached him.

"I know that we seem like a bunch of, ah— forgive my language, but assholes, but we're really here to help. I will tell the others to tone it down a bit."

"Thank you," he repeated.

"If you'd prefer that we start in, ah— less personal rooms, we can do that also."

"If I'm perfectly honest, I don't even know what I should be doing there."

"Neither am I." The human laughed nervously. "I have dealt with grief before, but I've never had the, ah— how do you call it? Hang on." He pulled out a copper wire and whispered: "Beau, how do you say zweifelhafte Ehre in Common? You can reply to this message." A moment later he straightened. "Right. I never had the dubious honour of emptying out a deceased person's house before."

"Neither did I," Verin admitted. 'Usually, the deceased person comes back,' he didn't say. Instead, he opted for: "You're, er— What's the word in Common? You're weird? I'm sorry if that's insulting, I just— waele xanalressen [stupid languages]."

"I don't understand your words, but I think I understand the sentiment." The man grimaced. "And I've heard that one before. I hope we're not too much of a... too much."

"It's alright," he lied and opened the door to Essek's bedroom. 

It wasn't alright; Verin wanted to weep again.

The door to the bathroom stood ajar, as did several drawers and cabinets, although he couldn't glance inside. Considering that he heard glass shatter and a quiet "oops" followed by a hushed "Jester!" he was rather glad about that. Besides, what he saw was already quite enough to handle. Beau was currently rifling through Essek's nightstand, the tall woman tossing unread books on the bed carelessly, while the lavender tiefling seemed to make his way through his brother's collections of make-up and jewellery alike.

They froze when they spotted him and the sad human in the door. "Heeey, Verin," Beau drawled.

"These were all still closed, I swear," the lavender tiefling said immediately, gesturing at the jars in front of them.

Verin just sighed in defeat. "I don't wear any make-up, I don't care; you can have it. Put the jewellery in the box to be sold; the books are for charity if he hasn't read them. Just leave the earrings in front of the mirror, please. Those were his favourites."

Without another glance at them, Verin headed straight to Essek's closet, desperate to get some quiet. He took a few moments to collect himself, before closing the door and leaning his head against it with a heavy thunk.

He stayed like that for a minute or maybe two until he heard someone clear their throat. "I have been debating for the past fifty-five seconds, if I should just Dimension Door out," the sad human said and Verin very nearly jumped out of his skin, "but that would be loud and I didn't want to startle you. Not that I didn't startle you like this but—"

"Vithin shu," Verin cursed.

"Vithin shu ke," the sad human agreed, his accent in Undercommon even heavier than normally.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, equally startled by the course of events. Then, the human looked away again. "I, ah— have started learning Undercommon before, um— well, before." Verin tried very hard to focus on the way the human was scratching at his forearms; that way he had something else to focus on besides his nearing breakdown.

"This is a bit embarrassing, but, ah— I believe I forgot to introduce myself," the human continued. "I'm Caleb Widogast. Essek and I were... friends, yes, and ah— colleagues, of some sort. It's... complicated."

He scratched at his arms again before turning towards the shelves and pulling out a stack of tunics. He unfolded one, looked at it, then carefully folded it again, cast a cantrip to smooth out the wrinkles, and put it in the charity box. Then he repeated the procedure with the next. And the next. And the next.

Verin frowned, thinking for a moment about his words. There was something about them that seemed painfully familiar, although he couldn't quite remember. Then: "The transmutation specialist."

Widogast looked up in surprise. "Yes."

"Essek told me of you," Verin admitted.

The last time they had seen each other had been here, in these towers, just a few months ago. He had found his brother in his office, pouring over notes for a new spell, alive and healthy as ever. As always, he had entered without knocking. As always, he had pretended to read the notes. Not as always, he had noticed something wrong. "Whose handwriting is that?" he had asked.

"What?" Essek had snapped, his head whipping up. Then, however, his expression had softened. "Oh. A friend's. A colleague, of sorts. He's helping me out, a bit."

"With the spell?" Verin had asked incredulously.

"Yes. He's a transmutation specialist; you know that's not my forte. Now give it back, will you?"

"A colleague, huh?" He had grinned and held the paper out of Essek's reach. "Are you sure that's all?"

Perhaps Essek had been sick after all, for the strangest thing had happened: instead of using his floating cantrip to snatch the notes back, he had gotten a dreamy, far-off look in his eyes. He had even smiled with an expression Verin might have called dopey, if it weren't his brother they were talking about. After a few moments, he had snapped out of it, sighed, and said: "It's complicated."

"Did he?" Widogast asked tentatively. "Did he, ah— did he say anything else about me?"

Verin pinned him down with a glare, sizing him up. In hindsight, he should have noticed the thick spellbook at his hip earlier; judging by his slim frame alone, he should have known the man was a wizard. He supposed Widogast was handsome enough, although his brother had never cared much for that, with his copper hair and his striking blue eyes. Blue eyes around which crows' feet were gathering, as he noticed to his dismay. 'He's human,' Verin reminded himself. He might have a few decades left, maybe, whereas Essek had centuries ahead of him. The thought why his brother might condemn himself to more loneliness crossed his mind, though it hardly mattered. His brother had been the first to die, after all.

"Verin?" Widogast inquired quietly.

"I'm sorry," he answered with a thick voice. "I got lost in my thoughts there. He, uhh— he said that he trusted you." That didn't even begin to cover it, but these Mighty Nein had been lying to him since the moment they got here, so what was a little lie by omission? Besides, there were some memories that he wanted to keep just to himself.

"Essek," he had teased, still waving the sheet of paper out his reach. "Come on! Aren't we brothers?"

Essek had crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn't done that since they were both little. "Unfortunately. You are a menace. And a child."

"If you tell me about him, I'll give it back. Is he handsome? Is he a drow? Where's he from? How did you meet? When will I meet him? Can I promise to kill him if he hurts you?"

"Verin!" Essek had groaned and hid his face in his hands.

"What do you do when you meet? I bet you stay up all night, talking about 'arcane research' or something."

"We do, in fact. Are you done now?"

"Oh, is that what young people call it these days?" He had cackled at his own joke.

"Evidently not," Essek had muttered. "Might I remind you that you're younger than me?"

"Might I remind you that you're a buzzkill?" Verin had shot back and placed the note down. He had gotten bored of his own game.

Essek had taken the sheet of paper almost reverently and thanked him. "I would have hated it to rewrite that page." He had smoothed it down, stored it safely away in a folder, silent for a long time. Then, he had said: "Caleb."

"Excuse me?"

"That's his name," Essek had said. "Caleb Widogast."

Verin had frowned. "Hey, Essek?"

"Hm?"

"You must trust him a lot, to share a spell with him."

His brother had taken a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. Verin hadn't expected him to answer, yet he'd said: "I do, actually. It's not the first spell we've created together and I would be honoured to create a thousand more with him. I'd trust him with my life, my death, and beyond. I think—" He'd huffed. "I think I trust him almost as much as I trust you."

Verin watched Widogast as he was looking through his brother's tunics, placing most of them in the charity box, and he wondered. Wondered if the trust Essek had obviously put in Widogast had been misplaced. Wondered if it had extended to his friends, as well. Wondered if ultimately trust had been his downfall, as he'd always feared.

Then again, if Essek had trusted him... perhaps that trust had been mutual. Perhaps they had been friends. Perhaps there was another person mourning his brother after all.

"Do I have something on my face?" Verin had given up on counting how many times Widogast had now startled him out of his thoughts.

"No, no I—," Verin stammered. "I'm sorry."

He tilted his head to the side. "For staring?"

"No, er— For your loss." Liar or no liar, it only seemed appropriate.

"Oh." Widogast turned back to the tunics. Verin probably should get started, too, shouldn't he? "Thank you. Though I'd wager your loss weighs heavier than mine."

"Probably," he agreed and turned to the task at hand. At this point, Widogast had moved on from the simple tunics to Essek's court regalia. After a short moment of consideration, Verin decided to look through the pants; he also had no interest in sorting through his dead brother's underwear.

Out of the corner of his eye he kept watching the wizard, pulling out one cloak after the other. At a few he wrinkled his nose, at others he just stared before putting them with the tunics. After a while one made him pause; an elaborate, beautiful robe in deep purple. "This is what he was wearing when we first met him," he said.

'He hated that one,' Verin thought. Not that he could say that out loud. Instead, he cocked his head and asked: "Are you sure? He has a lot of those. Had, I mean. Had a lot of those."

"Yeah, I'm sure." He tapped his temple with a faint smile. "I have a good memory."

"As does Essek," he snapped, suddenly feeling very defensive about his brother's capabilities. "I suppose most wizards do."

Infuriatingly, Widogast only nodded. "Indeed. Or they're not very good ones."

Silently, Verin turned back to the trousers. The sooner he got done, the sooner he got these people out of his brother's towers, the better. He didn't know for how long they worked in silence, Verin reminiscing about the times he had seen Essek wear the clothes and wondering about those he didn't know. Eventually, he folded the last of them and forced himself to return to the present. "I think we're done here," he announced. "Do you have a preference for a next room?"

"Perhaps the library?" Widogast offered a tentative smile. "I think I might be of more use there than folding clothes."

"More use than I will be, surely."

"I take it the wizardry doesn't run in the family, then?"

Verin only scoffed and opened the door to the bedroom again.

He immediately spotted Beau leafing through one of the books Essek had never read, while the tiefling was chatting amiably with the aasimar while braiding her hair. He also noted the boxes neatly stacked in the middle of the room. Besides that, he noticed with a heavy heart, the room looked much the same. If anything, it looked less orderly and empty than before. Except for—

"Where are Essek's earrings?" Verin demanded to know.

"What earrings?" the lavender tiefling replied with a too-wide grin the same moment Beau said: "Dude, there's tons of them, why don't—"

"No," he said decisively. "Essek's favourite earrings; they're always up here. I told you about them. Where are they?" His hands curled into fists, his neatly manicured fingernails pressing almost painfully into his skin.

"Perhaps you should look in one of the boxes," the aasimar woman suggested "I'm sure they're—"

"You're lying," Verin interrupted her, barely containing his anger. "Why are you lying? If they're in one of the boxes, then only because you put them there. So: where are they?"

Widogast only now stepped out of the closet, wearing an amber necklace he hadn't noticed before. "Verin—" he said tentatively, but he'd had enough.

"Shut up!" He startled himself with how loud his voice was. But he was beyond caring. "I know they're not in there, because the only ones to put them in there would have been you. So, either you're lying about having them put in there, or you're lying about stealing them, I don't care. Just— please. Please give them back."

The four of them passed a guilty glance. "We can't," Beau replied finally.

"The fuck you can't," Verin spat. "Give them back!"

"Verin, love, we would really love to," the tiefling added, "but we can't."

"I don't understand; is it precious things you want? Here, have some!" He strode over to the boxes and ripped the first open, tossing the lid towards the bathroom door Jester was peeking out of. He reached in to grab a necklace—an ugly one, he had always thought, with a stylised beacon—and threw it in their direction.

Beau caught it. Of course.

"Have a whole box, actually, if you like them so damn much." He reached inside and pulled out a jewellery box, tears prickling in his eyes. He threw one of those, too, just for good measure. It gave him some satisfaction that Widogast had to dodge it. "Just give me back the bloody earrings that my brother wore at my fucking consecution!" He was properly crying now and could only imagine the mess he looked like, but he had reached his limit. And, in his opinion, he was allowed to with all that was going on.

At least they looked a little bit guilty. "Fuck man, we didn't know," Beau mumbled.

"It's just one pair, Beau," Jester called over from the bathroom. "I'm sure it will be alright."

"Yes, there's no need for this to escalate," Fjord agreed and strode over to them, his hands raised innocently.

"I don't even know you people," Verin muttered, looking at the people crowding into his brother's bedroom. "Why did I even let you inside?"

"Do you want the earrings back?" the aasimar woman asked, reaching into a bag at her hip. Had she been carrying a greatsword for the whole time? Verin suddenly noticed how overpowered he was, were he to face all of them. "You can have them back if you want. Here, you can have them back."

"For a moment," Widogast added, slowly drawing closer to him and taking the earrings from the aasimar. He held them out on his flat hand, almost like he had seen soldiers offer treats to horses. His whole demeanour reminded him of someone trying to calm a spooked animal. For some reason, that seemed hilarious to him and he couldn't help the hysterical giggle that escaped his throat.

"Verin, I need you to calm down," he continued. "I know that's easier said than done, but you need your head."

"I think we should all calm down," Clay said from the doorway. And despite being surprised again, he did. It didn't make any sense, but few things these days did.

"Did it work?" the halfling asked. Verin wasn't really sure what she was talking about.

"It did," Clay confirmed.

"Gut," Widogast said and pressed the earrings that had seemed so important a moment ago into Verin's hands. "I think we should maybe go somewhere else, ja? Will you come with me?"

Inadvisable as it might be, if Essek had trusted that man, he should, too. And out of all of the Nein, he seemed to be the most normal one. The one he could see Essek with most. So, he nodded.

"I'll get us back to the kitchen, quickly." Caleb held out his hand and Verin closed his eyes, steeling himself. 'I hate Dimension Door,' was the last thing that crossed his mind before the teleportation spell ripped him away, together with: 'We haven't been to the kitchen, yet.'

Evidently, there went something wrong with the spell. Verin didn't know much about magic, but he knew Dimension Door couldn't transport more than two people. So, when he heard Beau groan and say "Fuck, dude, warn us next time," he knew that something wasn't right.

"You knew about the plan, Beauregard," Widogast replied.

"It doesn't matter," Fjord decided. "Caduceus, do you think you could make tea again? I think the Calm Emotions is about to wear off."

Cautiously, Verin opened one eye, then the other. They were, in fact, standing in a kitchen, as far as he could tell. All of the Mighty Nein were surrounding him. The furniture seemed to have been made for people taller than them; Essek probably would need to float in order to avoid awkwardly climbing onto the chair. The firbolg, however, who was fussing with a teapot, seemed to fit right in. All in all, the interior was very rustic. And very much not in Essek's towers, not that he had ever seen that room, of course.

The panic hit him once more. Verin whirled around to the wizard, instinctively grasping for his sword. "Where the fuck—" he faltered, finding his hip bare. Of course, he hadn't brought it for the funeral. Instead, he opted for just grasping Widogast by the lapels and lifting him up a bit. It was supposed to be menacing, which surely would be more effective, were humans not so annoyingly tall. "Where the fuck are we?!" he spat out.

A lot of things seemed to happen at once—he heard a "Fuck, man, what-" from Beau, a "Well, Mister Thelyss" from the pirate, several hands trying to tug him away from the weak wizard—but he didn't pay them any mind. He just shook Widogast, who looked entirely too calm for his liking, and demanded: "Answer me!"

"Leave him," was all Widogast said. "He has every right to be angry."

Indeed, the people grasping at him retreated, still on guard and surrounding him. There was a creak outside the door and Verin desperately wished for his sword once more. Then, a voice cut through the tense silence that had descended over the kitchen: "Caleb, is that you? You're back early."

"Yeah, there were some complications. Best come and look yourself, Schatz."

There was a sigh that was entirely too familiar for Verin's liking. Then, the door opened with a creak and in walked a dead man. "Complications," Essek Thelyss said with a fond smile. "I was just a Sending away, what did you come here fo— oh."

The person wearing his brother's face stopped in their tracks as they saw him. A couple of complicated emotions passed over his face—confusion, surprise, regret, guilt. If he hadn't known before, Verin was certain now that they were impostors, all of them. His brother would never tolerate such a display of weakness. Still, the impostor said: "Hello, brother."

Verin whipped his head back around to the wizard in his grasp. "What the fuck are you playing at?" he hissed.

"I- what- Verin!" the Essek-impostor sputtered. "What are you doing; put him down!"

"I would appreciate that, yes," Widogast added.

"Not before you don't tell me what's going on."

"Going on?" The impostor sneered and shook his head in a perfect imitation of his brother. "Nothing is going on, Verin."

"You died," he accused him.

"Evidently not," Essek scoffed.

Verin narrowed his eyes, looking from the man claiming to be his brother over the other too calm wizard to the rest of the Nein, seemingly perfectly happy to let this play out. "Prove it," he demanded. "Tell me something only my brother would know."

"You've become paranoid," he noted and Verin couldn't decide if it sounded proud or disappointed. "Alright. When you and I were in our early thirties, you once got in trouble for scaling the outside of mother's mansion. Rightfully, I should have gotten in trouble, too, but I was hiding on the attic. And the reason you never told anyone, is because then you'd have had to explain that I, the wizard, had somehow outpaced you, the fighter, in a climbing competition."

Verin wrinkled his nose at that. "Well, my brother cheated."

"I did not cheat, thank you very much!" He huffed indignantly and crossed his arms. "You didn't say 'no magic' before we started."

He stared at Essek for a few moments. "It's you," he whispered.

"Obviously."

Verin dropped the wizard on the ground and looked over at his brother; really looked. The man looked nothing like the one he had known for most of his life. His hair was longer than it had ever been since he'd cut it off and his bare feet were touching the ground. His clothes were casual, a simple tunic and trousers. After this day, Verin knew for a fact that not even Essek's trancing clothes were that informal, and yet his brother looked more comfortable in them in another's house than he had in decades. On top of that, he kept glancing over to Widogast. And smiling. Essek was smiling.

No, this man looked nothing like the one Verin had known for nearly a century. But he looked a lot like his brother.

"You're alive," he said stupidly.

"Yes, of course I am," Essek said, as if Verin hadn't just attended his funeral.

It felt only right to tell him so: "Why are you alive? I was at your funeral."

"That's a long story," he sighed and floated onto one of the chairs that were slightly too tall for him. He accepted a cup of tea from Clay with thanks and turned back to Verin. "Why are you here?"

"Well, that's a pretty long story, too," Jester spoke up. "He kind of started freaking out about your earrings, I think? And he was crying and looking pretty awful and everything, right Caleb?"

"I, ah— didn't think he'd believe us if we told him about you," Caleb said. "So, we had agreed beforehand to bring him here, in case of an emergency."

"He thought we were lying," Clay added.

"I suppose it is my story to tell," Essek said. "Earrings, Verin?"

"They're your favourite," Verin said stupidly and held them out to him.

His face grew soft. "Oh," he said as he took them gingerly, "I didn't know that you kne—"

Before he could overthink and do something stupid like stop himself, he surged forward and enveloped his brother in a tight hug. After a moment Essek closed his arms around him, too.

It seemed so unreal, to be able to hold him after mourning him for what felt like years. All the worries, all the grief and anger that had crushed him in the past few weeks and for what? For the bastard to still be alive after all. It wasn't fair. Why had he had to go through all of that? And why did he feel the pressing urge to start crying again? He should be happy, shouldn't he, that his brother wasn't dead. So why did it make him feel so awful?

"I think this is our cue to leave," Fjord said. Verin felt his brother nod and heard the Mighty Nein shuffle out of the kitchen, the door closing behind them with a creak. 

Only then, Essek spoke up. "Verin," he asked quietly, "are you crying?"

"Shut up," he mumbled through the thick fog of tears and snot, definitely not crying. "I hate you, Essek. Do you know what I went through?" 

"Meeting the Mighty Nein? Yes, I can imagine."

"They're horrible," he complained. "They're loud and they're rude and they had absolutely no respect for any of your belongings! I thought I was going mad."

"They are. They also are my friends, you know."

"How?" he asked agonised.

"I know they don't look like it, but they are surprisingly capable. And I am sure that you've noticed most of them to be annoyingly charming. But I think their absolute worst traits are their infinite stubbornness and perseverance. They quite literally did not leave me alone until they had befriended me."

Verin glanced up at him questioningly. "And were half in love with the wizard?" he guessed.

Essek scowled darkly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. "Perhaps."

He snorted and disentangled himself from their embrace. Very calmly he said: "You're a liar." 

Essek looked genuinely startled at that. "What?"

"You said, you trusted me more than him. Why then, did he know and I didn't?"

"It's... complicated," he said.

"You wizards say that a lot."

"Verin." Essek closed his eyes. "I trust you. Implicitly. And I care about you. Which is why I chose not to burden you with the knowledge of my misdeeds. I didn't— I didn't want to put you in an impossible situation to choose between me and our queen."

He laughed nervously. "What on earth are you talking about? I mean, you didn't commit treason or anything."

Essek didn't answer, avoiding eye-contact instead.

"Right?"

Still, Essek kept stubbornly quiet.

"Oh," Verin breathed. He took a moment trying to reconcile what he knew about his brother with the fact that he was apparently a traitor. It all fit together ridiculously easy. "The beacons."

Essek looked up at him in shock and he knew he had hit the mark. "What?"

"You stole the beacons." Now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense. Essek had been studying them at the time, one of the only people with frequent access to them. He had always been fascinated by them, yet his theories had been rejected for their heretic nature. As Shadowhand, he had also regular contact with counterparts from the Empire, albeit not officially. Then, a few years after Essek’s research had been denied, they had vanished. How had he never seen this before?

"Oh Essek...," he said softly.

"No, please— I don’t—Please don’t—” He seemed to deflate, curling in on himself. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have told you, I—”

"I don't care,” Verin interrupted his frantic ramblings.

"What?" Essek looked up at him, looking just as shocked as Verin felt.

“I don’t care,” he repeated, realising that it was true the moment the words left his mouth. For how could he care about something as trivial as treason when Essek was sitting right in front of him, alive and well. "You're my brother, I don't care. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in a year. Maybe in ten. Right now, I only care that you're alive."

“I—What—I don’t—” Essek stuttered, lifting and then lowering his hands a few times. “I don’t know how— If I can—Fuck.”

There was a joke on the tip of his tongue, but even he knew that this wasn’t the right time for it. Essek was obviously trying to tell him something and it took him a minute to decipher that strange behaviour. “Are you asking for a hug?” he hazarded a guess.

An agonised expression passed over his face and for a moment Verin thought there were tears gathering in his brother’s eyes. Surely not. “I don’t know if I may. I don’t mean to overstep—”

Without further ado, Verin stepped forward and gathered a yelping Essek up and squeezed him tightly. “Of course you may!” he assured him, awkwardly patting his shaking shoulders. “I love you, Essek. I am very glad that you’re alive.”

“I’m very glad to see you, too,” Essek answered and squeezed him a little tighter.

#critical role #critical role fanfiction #my writing #verin thelyss #the mighty nein #jester lavorre #fjord stone #caduceus clay #beauregard lionett #yasha nydoorin #caleb widogast #veth brenatto #kingsley tealeaf #essek thelyss #shadowgast #beauyasha #fjorjester #only a hint of it #the main focus of this fic is verin #and how he deals with the mighty nein and the apparent death of his brother

[mllekurtz]

My dearest @dawl-and-dapple gave me the prompt “laying awake at night, wishing your lover was next to you” for Shadowgast. Thanks for the prompt, friend, and thanks @kmackatie for making sure this was readable 💜

This is a continuation to this ficlet and this one, and YES, THIS IS THE ONE WHERE THEY KISS.

Shadowgast, post-canon, 1k words, no CWs

His friends drift off to sleep one by one, either in their beds (the sensible ones) or in a cozy nest of blankets in front of the fireplace (the ones who could or would not resist Jester’s suggestion that they have a sleepover).

As he steps out of the tower for a breath of fresh air, Essek thinks that, as much as he loves these people, sometimes he enjoys them more when they’re asleep.

And yet, as he spreads his cloak on the grass outside the temple of the Wildmother and lies down on it, casting the insects and the dirt and the grass stains out of his mind, as he lies down and his eyes trace familiar patterns among the stars, something’s missing.

The feeling is even more familiar than the constellations, and he’s used to carrying it around with him like precious cargo, a well-known weight in his ribcage. Even today, when by logic he shouldn’t have felt it, it was still there: a premonition, maybe, an advance payment to the absence waiting for him once his and Caleb’s paths will diverge again, until their next meeting.

If there is a next meeting.

At first he thinks the steps are a figment of his imagination, but the yawn can’t be. He doesn’t move, just waits for Caleb to spot him and join him, as he knows he will.

Even his trained, sensitive ears can barely hear him approach, barefoot on the grass. “Looking for a quiet spot?”

“Everywhere is a quiet spot around here,” Essek replies, even as his heart leaps. “That's what I like about graveyards. Who betrayed me?”

There’s enough room on the cloak that he doesn’t have to scoot when Caleb lies down next to him, leaving a hand’s breadth between them. “Ah, that would be Gretchen.”

Good cat, Essek thinks.

Much unlike Essek’s thoughts, the silence is easy and uncomplicated. His mind is going through everything that happened at dinner and after that. He remembers how Caleb’s hands looked on his spellbook and how they felt on his skin. He remembers touching and holding and groaning when they were interrupted before they could…

“Sometimes I struggle to accept that this is real.”

When he turns his head towards him, Essek can see Caleb’s profile perfectly. It’s etched in his memory, too.

“I know there’s a long way ahead of me. There’s so much I still want to accomplish, but I already have so much. I have… this sense of urgency, sometimes. Pointless, but strong, like I’ve forgotten something.”

Essek hums. His anxiety is fuelled by more concrete threats, but he understands. Of course he does. “It’s not easy to adjust to an ordinary life when you’ve never known one, Caleb.”

When Caleb turns his head, their eyes meet. The night is clear but moonless, and Caleb can’t see the yearning in Essek’s eyes. Surely he can’t. “Would you even settle for it?”

“I don’t think it’s in my cards.”

“But say it was, even for a small amount of time.” Caleb props himself up on an elbow. The question is deceptively easy, which makes Essek suspect Caleb is asking something else entirely. “A humble, boring life, with nothing more exciting in it than a parent-teacher conference. Would you take it?”

Even though Caleb can’t see him very well, Essek is sure his eye roll can be heard in his tone. “A quiet, peaceful life, where nobody wants me dead? How awful.”

He feels gratified when Caleb chuckles. Making him laugh makes Essek feel like he’s won something priceless, every time. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I think some parents want me dead.”

Essek stares at him in silence for a moment. Between Caleb and the sky, he doesn’t know which one is more unreachable. “I would like to see them try,” he says, allowing himself a smile when Caleb laughs again.

The silence that settles over them next is so heavy with anticipation that reality seems to crack under its weight.

Since he’s a coward, and he can’t resist the temptation to self-sabotage, Essek wets his lips and says, “You should rest, or I’ll have to Teleport you to Rexxentrum tomorrow.”

“Would that be bad?” Before Essek can react, Caleb has taken his hand, and in doing so has leaned so close that a lock of his hair tickles Essek’s cheek. “Come with me.”

Essek closes his eyes and inhales as if he had just received a blow. Meanwhile his fingers close on Caleb’s hand on their own, as if it were their purpose.

“Come with me,” Caleb insists, bringing Essek’s hand to his lips. Essek opens his eyes, and the sight of him is just as devastating as he thought it’d be. “It’s been long enough, and we’ll be careful. It doesn’t have to be forever. You can leave whenever you want, just… let’s try.”

Essek waits for him to be done before whispering, “Yes, alright.”

Caleb stills. He’s probably trying to see if Essek is joking (as if he would joke about this), or allowing himself to believe he’s just said yes (as if Essek wasn’t doing the same).

Essek exhales with a small, breathless laugh. “Honestly, I was just waiting for you to ask.”

It’s embarrassing to admit, but he has spent so much time wondering how it would feel like to kiss Caleb that it’s become a quiet, constant thought, occasionally coming to the forefront but otherwise just there, a soothing twin to the ache of Caleb’s absence.

When it actually happens, it feels inevitable. One moment Caleb is looking at him and murmuring something that sounds like “You idiot” in Zemnian, the next he lets go of Essek’s hand in favour of taking his face in his palms and leaning down until their foreheads are pressed together.

Essek doesn’t know who moves first; his hands are on the back of Caleb’s neck, fingers carding through his hair, and Caleb doesn’t put up any resistance when Essek pulls him closer.

His lips part almost immediately — so much for his modesty, finally, finally — and he pulls Caleb even closer as his tongue slips into his mouth, hungry and eager, as if trying to make up for lost time.

No, not lost. If years of dancing around each other, and sometimes with each other, is what it took to bring them here, together, on the threshold of a hopeful future, Essek will take it. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

#and SCENE #thanks for following what definitely didn't start as a three-parter but. here we are #critical role #shadowgast #cr fic #my fics

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked. 

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins. 

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent. 

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Essek Thelyss #tradecraft #mostly Cold-War-related tradecraft TBH #hot boi got ROLLED by the Assembly though #sounds like he didn't even get paid! #I do wonder at stealing TWO beacons though #why two? what was wrong with one? #maybe Essek was just showing off at that point #it's been a long pandemic

[sockablock]

When Essek's old alter ego is suddenly asked by Da'leth to work at Soltryce Academy, nine semi-retired adventurers are thrust back into a web of danger, intrigue, and wizardly shenanigans. (Surprise, surprise! I’m back with another Shadowgast WIP)

Chapter 1: The Worst-Case Scenario

Caleb watched Essek hover back and forth like a miniature, panicked storm cloud.

“This is ridiculous! It must be some kind of joke. We haven't had any contact for years, and now he expects me to believe him? What is he playing at?”

“Breathe, Essek, breathe. You will not solve this mystery by wearing a hole in—above—the carpet.”

“What?” Essek looked down, then stopped floating. “Oh. My apologies. I’m a bit…well, you know.”

“I would be too.” There was urging in Caleb’s voice. “Take a seat, Schatz. Let me see the letter.”

Essek obliged, handing over a crumpled scroll right before collapsing heavily into his chair. The fire of a cold late-autumn evening cast their den in gold and orange light.

“Does he explain himself?” Caleb turned the scroll the right way around. “Does he say why?”

“Has Da’leth ever done that?” Essek snorted. “All he wrote was that I—rather, that Thain, had been selected. And I only have two days to respond.”

Caleb waved his hand, and a glowing orb appeared. He brought it closer to the parchment. “May I?”

“Please.”

“To the esteemed Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas—good grief. He really isn’t subtle.”

“Tell me about it,” Essek said.

“Perhaps,” Caleb continued, “you are aware of the ongoing investigations into the Cerberus Assembly. If so, then perhaps you have also heard that Archmage Tversky and Archmage Margolin will be leaving our ranks by the end of the week—ah yes, Beau was quite proud of that.”

“She should be,” Essek said miserably. “It’s about time. Read the next part.”

“And so it falls on the surviving members of our organization to fill these vacant roles. We believe, for the safety and stability of our country, that the next Archmages of Conscription and Dysology should come from within the Empire; however, it has been brought to our attention that adding a Nicodranian mage to our ranks could be quite valuable. Such an alliance would strengthen our ties to the Menagerie Coast, as well as assuage any concerns that the Empire is isolationist or inflexible. Therefore, as we have been friends for some time—really?”

Essek made a face. “I would not have called him my ‘friend’ in any form, but we have known each other for a few decades. Unfortunately.”

“Unfortunately,” Caleb commiserated. He smoothed out the letter and found his place again. “—I wished to have the pleasure of informing you that on behalf of the Cerberus Assembly, you, Lord Dezran Thain of Nicodranas, have been extended the honor of replacing Archmage Margolin in his secondary capacity—as the distinguished and peerless Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy. Oh. My gods.”

Essek groaned. He had his head buried in his hands.

“You Identified this already?” Caleb managed eventually.

Essek nodded. “I wish I hadn’t.”

Caleb continued to stare at the letters. The fluid, curving script seemed to blur all together. “That’s…gods,” he said again.

“Agreed.”

“I…can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.”

Essek snorted. “Actually, if anyone could, it would be you.” Then something occurred to him. Suddenly, the hearth shone an odd color in his eyes. “This was delivered to our home. To this house, in Rexxentrum. Yours. That…bastard.”

Caleb was quick to understand. He took a deep breath, then reached over for Essek’s hand.

“Maybe it was just enchanted to find you wherever you are. Like a Sending spell.”

“I’d hate to think otherwise. That would mean—”

Caleb interrupted him out of mercy. “Every inch of our tower is warded from divination. Besides, you’ve adopted an endless array of personas. I don’t even think we’ve been seen together with you as Thain, not since the party years ago.”

“Still.” Essek rubbed his eyes. “The timing makes me think he knows something. That, and the fact that it’s for Thain, I mean—what has Thain accomplished? I don’t even remember telling anyone I was a mage!”

“That, ah…that might have been Jester’s fault. She really enjoyed adding to your personas. You needed a past, after all, otherwise you would have just appeared from nowhere.”

“So she told everyone that Thain was a famous wizard?”

“The best lies are often true,” Caleb shrugged. “Though I admit that she might have gone a little overboard. You know how much she likes to praise her friends.”

It was a testament to Essek’s troubled mood that he barely acknowledged this. Caleb squeezed his fingers. “They said…they did say you could reject them. And their political reasoning is not unsound. Maybe that is all there is to it—the Assembly needs someone to be the Headmaster, and they thought of you.”

Even after so many years of trying, Caleb’s reassuring voice still left some things desired. Essek shut his eyes.

“My love, the very idea that the Cerberus Assembly is even thinking of me is a nightmare.”

 “Fair enough.”

“I just want to know why,” Essek muttered. “Why now? Why me? What is he after?”

“I don’t know,” Caleb said. “I wish I did.”

Essek suddenly turned toward him. “I—I hate to ask this, but can you find out? You know…ask our old friend the newest Archmage.”

“Ah.” Caleb’s face gave a complicated shuffle, one common these days when Astrid was mentioned.

“If you don’t want to—” Essek hurried.

“No, no, I can…try.” He scratched his chin. “She’s just been less open, lately. She’s not…pleased by how thorough the Soul is being. Beauregard is relentless.”

“It has been seven years. That’s a lot for your kind, but probably just enough for Da’leth to finally realize they mean business—” Essek blinked. “Do you think that’s why he picked me?”

“We don’t know that he’s behind this,” Caleb said lamely. At Essek’s expression, he relented. “Alright, alright. I’ll stop suggesting otherwise.”

“It’s not unappreciated, I just prefer to be direct. It is clear that Da’leth is trying to use me again. This time, in order to hurt you and the Cobalt Soul. There is no point in believing otherwise.”

Caleb brushed Essek’s face. “No, that would require him to think he could use you in the first place. But that is impossible, because Thain does not know Widogast.”

“He does, though.”

“Yes, but is Da’leth aware of that? He cannot be.”

“I thought we put an end to that.”

“Only to statements of idle hope, not facts.” Caleb was now holding both his hands. “The truth of the matter is that…yes, perhaps the Martinet does want you for some devious plan—”

“Oh, lovely—”

“—however, any plan he has cannot be based on our connection. We have been doing this…being us, for seven years now, Essek. If he were going to play against that hand, he would have done so already. This must be something else.”

Essek huffed. “What, though? What reason does he have? I haven’t been important to the Kryn for years. I resigned, I’m virtually a stranger there, and I certainly don’t have any more secrets for sale.” He paused. “Well, ones that Ludinus would desire. I’m useless to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” Caleb said. And his voice, while kind, had a faint edge to it. “You are right in that there probably is some motivation here. It might be related to the investigation in other ways—after all, two members of the Assembly are leaving. That makes four upheavals in under a decade. And if the Soul and the crown are both pushing for the appointment of more partial Archmages, then it might very well be the case that Da’leth just wants someone he can control. In your case, through blackmail.”

“Hooray for me.”

“He probably wouldn’t, though,” Caleb said. “Since, as you said, this is a situation of mutually assured destruction.”

Essek grimaced. “I have been somewhat wishful in that department. Even with your support, it is still my word against the Martinet.”

“Our word. That includes the Cobalt Soul.”

Essek shook his head. “You’ve seen how well he’s stood up to them so far. Can you honestly say that my safety is a sure thing? Don’t lie to me, Caleb.”

There was a pause.

“Essek, I will do everything in my power to protect you.”

"I know." He patted Caleb on the hand.

Outside their tower, far away, the evening bells of the Rexxentrum began to ring. One, and then two, and then almost a dozen, loud and bronze across the dimming sky.

“There is one way to find out for sure what Da’leth is planning.”

Essek sighed. “I know. But I don’t like it.”

Caleb leaned back in his seat. “Neither do I.”

The cry of the great bells waned. In their den, all around the wall, points of magelight flared to life—flickering and purple harbingers of night.

“Will you do it?” Caleb said.

“I don’t know if I have a choice.”

“You do,” Caleb said. “The worst-case scenario is that Da’leth tries to talk, and we…deal with that.”

“We’ve been trying to deal with him for years,” Essek said. “And…maybe this is bold of me to say, but the worst-case scenario isn’t that—it’s not knowing. Maybe I can…maybe I can find the answers here. If Da’leth thinks he is controlling me, if he trusts me to do his bidding, maybe I can finally learn something to break his hold.”

“As long as he never truly controls you,” Caleb said. “That is a risk I cannot accept.”

This time, Essek was the one to offer assurance. He gently pressed a kiss to Caleb’s hand.

“You forget,” he said wryly. “I am a powerful wizard. Haven’t you heard my title?”

“Shadowhand?” Caleb said. He did not look fully mollified, but he managed a chuckle. “I thought you were retired.”

Essek smiled. “I was, my love, but now it seems that I have a new role. Starting soon...you will be sharing your home with the next Headmaster of the Soltryce Academy.”

—

✨ Ko-Fi Link in Bio! ✨ | Requests are OPEN :3

#critical role #critrole #critfic #shadowgast #fic #thanks so much for reading!! #i'm really hoping to keep up this story consistently and any feedback is very appreciated <3 #jay writes #long post #fanfiction #text #fanfic #that 'keep reading' had better work i s2g #without fear or favor

[loquaciousquark]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E125 (Feb. 16, 2021)

Goooood evening good evening good evening, all! I hope you’re all staying warm and safe and dry in this chilly weather. Tonight’s guests: Travis Willingham and Laura Bailey. 

We open tonight with Travis ribbing Brian for his continuous remodel of his office space. Laura demands a second introduction of herself as she wasn’t paying attention during the first one.

Travis: “You’ve gotta love Julianne Moore. She’s the only actress who can cry and show you all her teeth at the same time.” I was listening pretty closely when he said this and I’m still not sure it had any context. 

Jester thinks there’s a strong possibility at least half the party will die against the Tombtakers. Fjord doesn’t think the odds are quite that high, but it will be dangerous. Laura points out that most of the M9 are also willing to sacrifice themselves for the rest of the party, so that changes their odds as well. Travis: “The game is not a stress reliever. It is not a stress reliever. I mean, it’s fun as shit, but it is stressful!”

Laura thinks Essek will give them a better chance. Travis: “A plus-one? A powerful plus-one, but a plus-one?” Did you see his reaction when we gave him the lowdown? Let’s be real: we kinda trust Essek. I got $50 that when we come back, he’s gone.” Laura is convinced he is trustworthy & wants to lighten his soul.

Jester spent so much time trying to bring out the Molly side of Lucien that to have him then betray them sucked. She knew that trying to bring the good out of everyone they met would eventually fail, but it stung that it was the most powerful one they encountered to first betray them.

She tries to talk about finger gestures during the answer as a reference to the HBO show “Raised by Wolves,” and Brian and Travis tell her to keep digging this hole she gets herself into about fingering. Travis: “Just get off the interstate at the next exit and turn right.” Laura, of course, immediately mimes turning a hard left, and they spent the next few minutes laughing at her inability to tell right from left and that even now she still has to hold up her hands to tell left from right.

Fjord is furious that they nicked the Bag of Holding. The loss of Vess DeRogna is bad enough, but he is genuinely IRL anxious about the loss of the Cloven Crystal. Laura points out that Fjord has also explicitly talked to Lucien about the deep sea creature patron he used to follow as well. He’s terrified one of Lucien’s scimitars is suddenly going to have a big eye sticking out of it. Laura suggests they’ll just succeed, bring back the city, and wake up Uk’otoa for the heck of it.

It was really rough to go from the Gelidon fight to the Tombtaker fight, especially since the first fight sent so well. Travis felt great that he initiated the dragon fight - he knew they had a far advantage in the numbers and felt that it was an open and shut case.

Laura does boggle that if Caleb hadn’t asked for that item from the Bag of Holding, they might have slept all night before realizing it was gone. They’re both relieved that they now know so much more about how the Tombtakers fight, especially the anti-magic cone. The most anxiety-ridden part was when they were trying to run and the TTs weren’t letting them. “You know when you don’t even have squares, when Matt’s black-tableclothing it, you’re in deep shit.” Laura had no spells left - she was so worried if she dropped the polymorph she would have had nothing left.

Travis: “Thanks for healing me, babe.” Laura: “You’re welcome, baby. It was ultimately a waste, though, because we took a rest immediately and you could just spend your hit dice.” Everyone laughs at Travis’s pain. She does say it was worth it in the moment since they didn’t know if they would be able to get away.

They joke that Laura’s just wearing the Fire Resist ring on a chain around her neck/Sprinkle is wearing it now to keep it safe since she’s not attuned to it anymore. It’s pretty hilarious!

Travis hoped that the TTs were originally actively looking for more acolytes rather than just having Caleb & Beau read the book. Otis needs to die. He’s relieved they have an idea of what all their blood rites do. Laura thought the time with them was fun, but it makes her retroactively wish that she’d dropped Zoran in the lava when they had the chance. Travis wishes they’d put a chime on the door of the tower.

Laura loved the tarot card reading, since Taliesin sent her really detailed breakdowns of the cards & gave her a real deck for Christmas. Taliesin told her she did a great job afterwards which she really appreciated, since she’s not sure what she’s doing. She does wish that she knew why Lucien seemed so nervous when she was talking about rebirth.

Cosplay of the Week! @clever_comics on twitter with a lovely Veth in her snowy lavender-colored outfit and pigtails.

Travis on confessing to Jester: “It FUCKING made me crazy!” He’s never been an instigator of campaign romances in the past, but because he loves Laura and was able to connect to her on that level he felt like it was a good challenge instead. He doesn’t think he could have done it with someone he wasn’t comfortable with. It was also important to him for it to be founded on real-game moments and after real-game time had passed, and he felt it was a very natural progression. Seeing the statues rip five years from her in such a benign situation made him realize that to let the opportunity pass wouldn’t have been worth it. He wishes he’d told Vandran what he meant to Fjord as well.

Laura loves that Fjord is becoming more confident as well. The post-Gelidon smooch took Laura completely by surprise since she’s finding Jester is a little surprisingly awkward with IRL affection, and she was surprised Fjord was the confident one there. “It’s so wonderful. It’s a matter of finding a way to get comfortable with it with her away from the Tombtakers.” Travis thought it was important to continue the “go for it” mantra. He notes that he’s pretty private about his personal life IRL, so it’s been a bit of a shift. It’s slower in a way - not a “you’re my one true love” kind of thing, more of a “let’s see where this goes and act on what you can” thing.

They were all “poopin’ in their pants” to get to go to Emon. The worst part was not getting to explore outside the tower since they had to leave again immediately. Kima is so cool, and Travis was actively trying to get Kima to come with them. Everyone boggles that they got to borrow Allura’s staff.

Laura only was thinking about the item-tuned-to-the-target-plane because she’d been texting with Liam trying to iron out their spell choices. She’s so relieved that they were able to get something tuned to the Sea from Allura.

For the most part, Laura knows what spells are the most useful for Jester, but every now and then she does get caught by major component requirements that she hadn’t noted. She wants to get another chalice for Hero’s Feast before they go into the Sea.

Dani points out that a lot of their allies right now are mages (no Kashaws, no Kimas, no Grogs) and they’re heading to a bad place for mages.

Travis has a sudden brain wave about all the TTs being from the Claret Order and wonders if they should investigate that before they pursue. I don’t even remember what that order is and I feel terrible!

Fanart of the Week! It’s a beautiful card by @crovyne on twitter of the Cree counterspell.

Laura really wants Brian to shave the sides of his hair and do Viking braids in the rest. I didn’t want to say anything out loud, but Brian’s hair is really looking pretty...pandemicky.

This is Dani’s four-year-anniversary of her start for Critical Role! Awww, Dani! You’re so short in real life.

Fjord is stoked that the Star Razor is a Vestige, and more now that he knows in-character what that means. It was great to see Allura react the way she did.

Jester doesn’t think they can really go to Nicodranas - they don’t have anymore time. Even more, Jester’s avoiding going home because she doesn’t want the Ruby to see that she got aged up/hurt on her travels.

Travis honestly assumes that the TTs are spying on them 100% of the time now.

Does Jester feel better now that the crest is away from Lucien? Yes, even though it’s gone off course. She thought dropping the crest where they were was a HORRIBLE idea and was appalled so many people were suggesting it. She saw the city with her own eyes, knows the danger of what’s coming, and if they had dropped it in flight she would have dropped with it and defended it as long as she could if that’s what would have kept them from getting it.

Travis thinks that if they can negotiate with Lucien, they should try. Everyone is super worried about Caleb’s and Beau’s new eyes and are fully anticipating they’re on a clock at this point. They wonder if it’ll drive up their exhaustion, allow Lucien to force them to fight against them, maybe make them willing slaves to the mysterious voice...they need to solve it sooner rather than later. 

And that’s all for tonight! New episode this Thursday - usual time, usual place. Stay warm, friends, and is it Thursday yet?

#talks machina #talks machina spoilers #critical role #critical role spoilers #long post for ts

[omniscientwreck]

I know I already sent u a prompt idea but it just hit me that once Essek goes into hiding, him and Caleb could end up easily having a conversation about their experiences, what they missed until they didn’t have it, or techniques, how similar/different their circumstances were, etc. There’s lots of potential (heh) for angst or comedy or both :)

Anyways, do what you will with this info ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

This is a really lovely prompt and I think I took it in a bit of a different direction than you were thinking, but I hope you still like it!

My partner got back last year from studying in another province for 3 years so for nearly half the time we've been together we've been apart so this is a little about that. Please enjoy!

----------

As Essek teleports in, he nearly crumples where he stands from sheer relief. The only thing keeping him from doing so is a fluffy black cat who’s immediately begun curling around his ankles. He lifts the offending creature and stares directly into mischievous green eyes, “Now sir, I understand you are excited to see me. I am glad to see you in good health Ernst but I must insist you allow me to walk unimpeded. Otherwise we’ll have an incident on our hands and you know how long that paperwork takes.” Ernst, who knows nothing of bureaucracy, blinks lazily back.

“It has to be done in triplicate Ernst! I think we’d both rather avoid that headache.” There’s a soft laugh from the doorway as he sets the cat on the ground and he scampers off to bother a sibling.

“I don’t know what you’re laughing at dearest, that’s at least two hours of writing for something that isn’t difficult to avoid in the first place.”

“I know Schatz, I just missed you.” Caleb’s eyes crinkle and they quickly close the distance between them to fade into an embrace.

Pulling back, Essek can’t keep the smile from his face, “I missed you too. I missed this.” The house smells of bread and a light soup, Caleb smells of incense and firewood and he buries his face in his husband’s neck.

“You’ve been gone a long time, why don’t we eat? Tell me about your travels.”

Some time later, after he’s gone through the series of failed leads that had led to his eventual success in locating another beacon, untouched and unknown by the Dynasty, he lands on what’s really bothering him. “It’s much different than I expected, being in hiding that is.”

“Ja, I know that feeling well. The first few years, before I met Veth, it was very solitary.”

Essek nods, “It’s so strange, to be reading and to have a thought I can’t voice to you immediately. I had gotten so used to this, something I never thought I’d have, and now I find myself talking to empty rooms more often than not.”

Caleb nods, “Ja, sometimes when there was a knock at the door something in me would try to find a rational way for you to be on the other side of it. I remember that loneliness too, I would go weeks without using my voice in the warmer months, sleeping on the outskirts of cities and towns scrounging by on stolen food.”

An old bruise on Essek’s heart squeezes. They’ve told each other everything over the years, he doesn’t think there’s an aspect of his own long life that he hasn’t gone over with Caleb. In turn Caleb has gifted his story to Essek in chunks, as it had been bearable to talk about it. Every wound and scar, every silver lining and bright spot amidst so much darkness.

Caleb never deserved any of that. “I would almost prefer I didn’t have to use my voice. I cannot for the life of me keep names consistent with disguises. I had given out three variations on the same name in one city and had to leave when I saw two people I’d spoken with conversing.”

He earns a laugh with that, hearty and low in the chest. It’s his favourite sound, he’s missed that too. “Yes Mr. Lord Lord from around, we all know how you are with your personas. At least you have the benefit of disguise magic.”

He joins in the laughter then. Thinks back to a memory that is still accompanied by a dull ache, but that he can now look back on with a twinge of fondness. That version of him had been so lost, so sorely in need of guidance. He’d gotten what he needed, he is working towards better now, he’s taken care of his younger self and that feels good in a way.

“There are so many things I didn’t know to be thankful for. Even something as simple as walls and a roof to contain heat, or the padding of the cats’ feet.” He hears a cup rattle to the ground, “Hanz, if that’s broken it will come out of your paycheque.” he calls into the next room as a tortoiseshell cat bolts away from the scene of the crime.

Caleb just laughs again and Essek savours the melody. He’s missed the glow of the amber lights that float around the dinner table, the stacks of notes or stray books that litter every available counter surface, Caleb.

His wizard reaches across to take his hand, “I am glad you’re back Schatz. Now don’t think I haven’t noticed the limp you’re walking with. Let me take a look before we retire.”

He rolls his eyes, but the truth is he’s quite injured. “Fine.” he huffs and Caleb laughs at his put on annoyance. “It was dire wolves. They caught me off guard.” His eyebrows knot and he leaves to get warm water, soaps, and cloths.

“Schatz this is a deep bite, perhaps I should notify Jester?”

He shakes his head, “We went through all of Aeor without them, I will be fine.”

Hissing at the warm water poured over puncture wounds, Caleb starts talking again to distract him. “One of the things I used to miss was my name. I think this one suits me now, but that’s because people know Caleb. For a long time nobody knew me by a name and those who knew Bren were a danger to me. It’s strange to lose something as arbitrary and as important as a name.”

Essek nods, “My name was power in my corner for a very long time. Now it is just a bitter reminder in some ways. But I like how it sounds when you say it so I will keep it.”

Caleb smiles down at him, pressing a blessed kiss to his forehead and continues to wash and wrap his wound. “I missed you Caleb.”

“I missed you too Essek.”

“I will have to leave again one day.”

“I know Schatz, I will be here when you get back.”

“I will always come back.”

His wound is wrapped, their bed is warm. Before falling into his trance he curls back into Caleb’s chest and thinks that it will be a while before he can bear to leave again now that he has someone to miss.

#shadowgast #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #critical role #the mighty nein #cr2 #cr fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction #critical role fanfiction #critfic #my writing #omni writes #omni answers #tm9 #Also a lot of things about me and my partner remind me of Essek and Caleb #both academics #he's way smarter than me tho #i'm going to be a teacher #he's going to be a researcher/professor #just something about their dynamic makes me think of me and my partner idk #i'm projecting onto fictional characters again #who could have guessed

[saphirered]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lesferatu]

Just some thoughts on second chances that I wrote the night of the CR campaign finale but forgot to post till right now. As such, it is a reflection on the campaign before the wrap up and I really don't feel like going through it to see if my opinion changed after the wrap up, so here ya go.

Spoilers for character arcs through out the campaign and episode 141 (as well as a Long Post) below cut

The Mighty Nein campaign has been a story of second chances and living beyond your past while staying true to who you are. And love...lots of it.

Fjord was a sailor who followed more than he lived for himself. Vandren showed him how to be a sailor and how to be the man he grew into and, in the end, he tried to become Vandren. Fjord's second chance came twice with a sword and a patron. His first second chance was a false start but one that let him reach his true self through trial, error, and struggle. His second second chance was a much softer beginning; surrounded by friends who loved him for all he was and could be, with a Goddess who cares at his back and a purpose of his own choosing to drive him. He found someone who loved him for who he was, not how he presented himself to the world.

In the end, Fjord is still a sailor but one who lives and loves on his own terms and fjorges his own way.

Jester lived a sheltered life but one full of love and chaos. It was never bad or one not worth living, but for her it was incomplete. Her mother hid her from the world with good intent but it left her naïve of the true nature of the world; books can only teach you so much about life and often it is a romanticized version. Jester's second chance came of her own making early on and yet took a long time to come to fruition. She locked that man on the balcony and, in the end, was shunted into a world she knew about in theory but was clueless of in practice: the real story her books were based on. She spent the campaign becoming disillusioned with the idea of story book love and life and yet found a real love and life along the way. 

Jester never loses her love of romance, stories, and fantasy but found the truth in them all the same that made life real.

Yasha lived a life given and taken from her against her will for many decades. Her clan dictated so much of her destiny that, when she chose to find her own pocket of happiness within it, said destiny was ripped from her along with that happiness. That loss became the chains that a new given destiny used to bind her against her will once more; her mind was taken as well as her life so that no pockets of happiness could be found again. Yasha's second chance came with Mollymauk, then the Mighty Nein, then Beau; choices upon choices that given destiny tried to take once more but, in the end, free will won. 

Yasha lost so much because of love–or rather because of other's reaction to said love–but love saved her in the end. She loved so hard, she found her own destiny, broke the chains that held her, and now her pockets of happiness are overflowing.

Beau's life was one of bucking the system and ignoring expectations. She was forced to live her father's regret and fear and rebelled hard against both. Her rebellion got her trapped by the system she tried to escape. That system taught her much and yet, when she was let loose from it, she rebelled once more. Anger and snark can only get you so far and, in the end, it was love and learning that got her farther. She thought her fists were her best quality but her mind was as sharp as her strikes and tongue. Once she let herself use it to its fullest, she cut through every mystery in her way. Beau’s second chance came through her friends and understanding how the world wasn't always out to get her and, when it is, it is possible to fight it in a way that changes the world and doesn’t just spite it. She grew into a friend, a lover, and a revolutionary; she went her own way and the system had to struggle to keep up with her. Closure she didn't know she needed was given to her but her second chance was something she made herself.

Beau is still angry and rebellious but she has a true family and influence to back it up. She allowed herself to be soft and it made her strong.

Caleb life was forged for him through pain–his own and others–and manipulation. He was naïve in a destructive way; loyal and trusting to a fault...but to the wrong man, the wrong cause. His trust got his parents killed and his life ruined. He didn't want a second chance–didn't think he deserved one–but one came to him anyway in the form of a wild group of chaotic idiots and love in many forms. It came in the form of his friends, of a chance to right wrongs–though not his own for the longest time–and in seeing himself in another and offering the forgiveness his new family offered him. It came in the form of an unexpected fight and a legal battle, both fought with his new family at his side. He got revenge for his old self, his old family and loves.

Caleb is not Bren–not truly...anymore–but Caleb can live with that. He found his purpose in making sure that no more Brens have to become Calebs and finding forgiveness and love–however bittersweet in the end–with his narrative foil and the friends who dragged him to redemption.

Veth is another who's life was taken from her. Yes, eventually by death but first by bullies. She was made to hate herself by the cruelty of society and, though she found love and happiness through that, she never let herself be all she could; she could only see what she was not. And Nott she became and she hated Nott. But love saved her; not love for who she used to be, nor who she could be in the future, but who she was right at that moment. It was the love of her friends, her husband, and herself that saved her. Her second chance was finding her way back to her first, but with an understanding of who she truly is; brave, true, smart, and a great mother.

Veth was Nott but she was not...not and by finding the truth in that statement, Nott became Veth. Veth chose the soft life once more in the end but this time of her own volition and it was her found courage that allowed her to do it. 

Caduceus is another sheltered soul but this time of his own choice, though he didn't really think of it that way. He thought he needed to wait for someone to tell him his purpose and he thought someone had when grieving chaos fell upon his doorstep. He helped them find vengeance and closure and that could have been it, but he stayed, sure that he was supposed to. In doing so, he found his family twice–both metaphorically in the Nein and physically at the Menagerie– and found both his purpose and his choice. He led another to salvation just by being himself and a good friend. Caduceus's second chance came by figuring out his given destiny was given by himself, by the adventure he found along the way, and the chosen purpose he found in the end.

Caduceus is the favorite of the Wild Mother and the best friend anyone could ever want, and he chose to be so by following the first chaos he found.

Essek life was, sadly by Dynasty standards, his own; he was not a lost soul given life once more but a new one given power. Knowledge was his driving force and it led to the ruin of many; He wasn't allowed to do what he wanted...so he did what he wanted anyway and it inadvertently started a war. He was okay with that, truly, until the Mighty Nein stumbled into his life and suddenly he was very much not. It was not a betrayal really–though he was definitely guilty of treason–but it was the loss of the Mighty Nein's trust that he feared the most and felt the most when he finally lost it, however briefly. He thought he has lost the only true family he had but really he had found a life to live. His second chance came when he chose to live that life.

Essek's life wasn't given to him so he took it for himself and it ruined him...but love built him back up and showed him that it was better to live life to change than it was to wallow in guilt.

Molly's life, in itself, was a second chance, though not one asked for by Lucien. He forged forward and made it his own. He loved and he created and he left everywhere he went better than when he got there. We never got to see the true end of his new start. Life is not always fair and not every second chance works out in the end...that is, until the end of Lucien. Molly fought to make his new life his own and how dare his original self try and tear down his progress!

Molly's second chance was cut short when he died for his friends and he died once more helping his friends make sure his first chance didn't ruin it.

Kingsley's life, again, was an enforced second chance, though one Molly would approve of. Molly didn't dwell on the past and neither will his brother, his new self. Kingsley saw the love in the Mighty Nein's eyes and never questioned it; all he asked was that he could learn it on his own. He woke up to chaos and love and he embraced it. Molly would have never wanted to be dwelled upon in a way that stifled change and Kingsley lived that. Kingsley's second chance came in the form of a new life and a new coat, but the same friends. He grew into his own self before learning what was taken from the group he had learned to love. The Mighty Nein could have seen him as Molly, could have tried to force him into the hole in their heart and he probably wouldn't have blamed them, yet he was Kingsley in their eyes and he loved them all the more for it. 

Kingsley's life lives true to Molly's ideas of the past: forget it and continue forward and live every second of it to the fullest. His second chance is in the works but he's not hesitating for one second.

The Mighty Nein were a group a fuck ups from the start; barely contained chaos which changed and grew and erupted at every turn. They were volatile at the beginning yet as ride or die as any adventuring party should be. They did not experience the world separately but as a team; each second chance a member got–whether it was sought after or not–was a chance to learn and grow together and grow closer. Their second chance came when a leetle teifling girl walked over to engage with a smelly man and a “halfling” and a purple man and an angel convinced them all to go to the circus

They will always be a chaotic bunch of assholes, no matter how far apart they travel, but now they are a family and nobody can take that from them.

#critical role #jester #jester lavorre #fjord #yasha #beau #caleb widogast #yasha nydoorin #beauregard lionett #caduceus #caduceus clay #essek theyless #mollymauk tealeaf #mollymauk #Kingsley

[spritewrites]

Hi! I love your writing! I was wondering if I could ask for prompt 30 with lee!Essek

oh, anon, if you only knew how much you absolutely can.

this got away from me so far it’s not even funny. like i can’t even see it on the horizon. expand at your own risks, this boi is beefy

30. “I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

“Caleb?”

“Scheiße—” Caleb jumps.

Oh. Essek.

It wasn’t that he… forgot the man was there, that task would be nearly impossible. It’s only that Essek hasn’t spoken in a few hours, and Caleb had been wondering… well. Maybe he isn’t enjoying the book; recommendations for people you don’t know very well can be tricky. Maybe he simply has to go home. Maybe he got a Message from the Bright Queen, announcing that all of the Nein were to be executed immediately.

All were possibilities.

That is why he is surprised to see Frumpkin’s tiny owl form perched on the drow’s shoulder, investigating a studded ear with nimble precision. The shoulder in question is hitched up quite high, seemingly trying to protect the thin skin but only succeeding in giving the owl further access to the pointed tip.

There’s some kind of quivering tension playing around Essek’s lips. Caleb consciously stops himself from staring. It wouldn’t do to offend his research partner.

“He is—ah, he is nibbling me, Caleb,” Essek hisses. His ear flicks, and Caleb watches his fingers twitch, tracing half-beginnings to a number of spells that he seems to reconsider mid-cast before squeezing his hand into a fist.

Oh, dear.

“Frumpkin,” he says sharply, and snaps his familiar back to his own shoulder. Frumpkin immediately chirps and nuzzles the side of his own rounded ear, and Caleb huffs fondly and gives him a little scritch on his head. “Be a good cat. I apologize, he should know better than to attack anyone ticklish. I believe Fjord taught him that lesson rather well.”

He’d hoped the quip would smooth things over well enough to continue their study. Instead, Essek… bristles. “I’m not—I’m not ticklish, who do you think I am?”

Fuck.

“I do not mean to offend,” Caleb says quickly. Frumpkin gives a skeptical quirk of his head, clearly indicating his thoughts on the matter. Well. We can’t all go around rubbing up against attractive wizards, now can we? “I only thought… well, no matter. I am sorry that he bothered you.”

He shoots the drow a look that he hopes comes across as generally respectful and amiable—he is their liaison, after all, and they’ve worked far too hard to jeopardize such a relationship—but Essek’s eyes aren’t on him. They’re off, just slightly, trained on the spot where Frumpkin’s feathers are brushing the crook of Caleb’s neck. “It’s quite alright. You are… not, I suppose?”

Caleb swallows the “No, Nott is the goblin” that wells up in his throat. “Hm? Not what?”

“Not…” Essek gestures vaguely in the direction of his own recently victimized ear. “Not ticklish.”

After several months of dealing with tieflings, the way he stumbles over the word is not lost on Caleb. A flush begins to rise in his cheeks, and he can only hope his scruff hides the full effect of it. “Ah. Ich verstehe. Ja, but not…” He casts a sideways look at Frumpkin, who blinks. Bastard. “Well, a long time with fluffy animals on one’s shoulder builds up a certain tolerance in the area, I suppose.”

Essek also blinks, unreadable. His face is perhaps a bit more violet than it had previously been, but it may also be a trick of the light.

And Caleb could certainly blame that for making him bold, or something pent up inside from sitting across from Essek for two hours and forty-seven minutes without talking, or something else, but...

“It is funny,” Caleb continues before he can talk himself out of it, “that you say that you are immune. You seemed quite ticklish a moment ago.”

Essek goes still. Scheiße, if Caleb could just maintain enough composure around this man to talk about magic and research like a normal person, and not ask personal questions, they might manage to get out of Xhorhas alive.

“You are…” Oh, Essek’s speaking. “You are not wrong, Caleb Widogast. I suppose it has been… a while. I was under the impression that I had grown out of such things.” He clears his throat, and his ear flicks again. Must be involuntary. “It appears I was mistaken.”

Oh.

Well, that wasn’t what Caleb was expecting at all.

“I see.” He manages a small smile. “I will be sure to keep that information away from the others.”

Essek looks alarmed. “Would they… I mean…”

Oh, dear, the Shadowhand might be in greater trouble that even he realizes. Caleb’s smile pulls harder at his dimples at the thought, but he stifles it. “They can be a bit mean, if they know too much. Not to worry, I will keep them at bay for you if anything were ever to… come up.”

The anxiety in Essek’s gaze fades, but his ears are still fixed in Caleb’s direction. It’s rather difficult not to feel like an insect under a glass, with the way his dark blue eyes seem to see far deeper than they should be capable. “They subject you to this as well?” he asks.

“Sometimes.” Caleb had not anticipated how difficult this would be to say out loud. “When they can.”

Essek tilts his head. “But not your neck, you say?”

“My, ah. My ribs tend to be a bit more… productive. If that’s the sort of thing you’re after.” The flush is back. Fuck.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.” Essek looks… curious, almost. Studious. The way he looks when they’re researching, but he’s eyeing the fabric underneath Caleb’s book holsters instead.

Caleb fights the urge to squirm.

“Well,” says Essek, catching Caleb off guard with the breeziness of his tone. “We have work to do, yes? Frumpkin seems to agree with me.”

Indeed, Frumpkin is hopping off Caleb’s shoulder to peck at a bit of blank parchment. Honestly, Caleb wouldn’t put it past him to be doing it on purpose. Probably for the best, either way.

“Yes, yes of course. Apologies, if I overstepped—”

Essek waves him off. “Nonsense. After all,” he grins, “I find it useful to learn the weaknesses of my friends along with my enemies.”

Hm. “It goes both ways, Herr Thelyss.”

He seems to consider this for a moment, glancing between the owl on the table and the blushing wizard sitting across from him. For a moment, Caleb swears he sees something in the smooth lines of his face—something darker, perhaps, or just deeper—but then it’s gone, and the drow is smirking again.

“Yes. Yes, I suppose it does.”

#critickle role #head empty only shadowgast #ask meme #these are closed!!! #anon #this is over 1k i'm so sorry #these are supposed to be drabbles #finn the nott pun is for you #credit to chock for giving me the guts and inspiration to FINISH something #hope you all enjoy #also props to you if you catch the foreshadowing and themes at the end. we love writing huh