#ariadne writes CR

[ariadne-mouse]

the long wind down

Shadowgast, rated G, 1276 words. An ode to burnout.

-

"Of course I am not fine." 

Caleb's tone was waspish, and only their growing familiarity with each other told Essek that the sharpness was not meant for him, though he had catalyzed it.  Strudel the tawny longhair cat had no such wisdom, and leapt down from Caleb’s lap, offended. 

"We are in the final waiting period of the old man's sentencing, Beauregard has unearthed new dirt on the Martinet that we cannot pursue yet because of political bullshit, and Soltryce has changed the composition of their teaching offer four times.  I am not fine, Essek.  I am going insane."  Caleb clenched his hands in the air as though he could seize reality itself and shake it, then sagged back in his armchair, strings cut.  He rubbed his forehead.  "I am tired and wired at the same time, in equal and contradicting parts.  It has been nonstop for months."

"Caleb Widogast." Up close, the lines creasing Caleb's face were even more evident in the flickering candlelight.  Essek sat on the arm of the chair and rested his palm against Caleb's scruffy beard. "What can I do?"  His thumb soothed the cheekbone beneath it.

"Nothing," Caleb sighed, turning his face into the touch.

"I can distract you, if you wish." 

The offer earned him a faint flash of a grin. "I do enjoy your skills at distraction, Herr Thelyss."  But he did not move, his posture still slumped, the weight of him and the world on his shoulders pressing down into the chair, and so the question and its answer passed between them unspoken in that tender space of knowing.

Essek frowned. "And you cannot rest?"

"Nein," Caleb looked up at him wearily. "My mind wants something to chew.  It is hungry.  But as soon as I try, and pick up this or that, I get lost in the details or else make stupid mistakes like a schoolboy trying his hand at advanced magic.  I have been going for so long, I can't stop, but I have hit a point where I can’t string two coherent thoughts together either." His eyes drifted shut, but his continued unease was betrayed by the way he plucked at his sleeve in his lap, a precursor to his bad habit of scratching.

Essek’s mind was not fully refreshed either, such was his life of evasion these days, but his retreat from his Dynasty connections was also a retreat from the obligations and noise that came with them.  It was rather the reverse of Caleb’s plight — while his friend sought to put down roots in his home country and make change, Essek was pulling up his roots and casting himself into the wind.  But he remembered the years he’d spent climbing through the Dynasty, and with that recollection, he found he had a solution.  

He tilted his head.  "I have just the thing.  Perhaps."

"Do you?" Caleb straightened up fractionally, focusing on Essek once more.

“Perhaps.”  Essek drew away, but only to free his hands for casting.  “It is a trivial invention of mine from my early days at court, when I first achieved the rank of Shadowhand.  There was always a great deal to be done, many things happening at once, but each with their own restrictions and tediums and frustrations.  Politics.  At times waiting, able to do nothing while some goal became more and more urgent.  Interlacing plans, advancing at different paces.  I found it hard to rest, then, too.  The mind is reluctant to let go, once put to such… hm. Overclocking?”

He traced some symbols in the air, leaving a softly glowing indigo afterimage.  These symbols unspooled themselves and rearranged into a new display: a blank rectangular grid with notation at each row and column. “The numerals are in Undercommon, but I never envisioned an application for this outside of my own personal use.”  He then touched a square in the grid with a spark of magic, and it filled with a soothing blue-purple color.  “It is a simple logic puzzle.  There is an underlying pattern — I took pains for the spell to generate it at random, unknown to the caster — and can be solved by marking the squares to match it.  I will tell you no more of the rules.  Try it.”

Caleb leaned up, the light reflected in his eyes.  He tapped a square, and it lit up like Essek’s had.  Another: this one flashed red and then faded dull and grey.

“An incorrect choice?”

“Yes.”

His eyes flitting over the puzzle, Caleb tested a number of other squares in rapid succession, noting whether they glowed a successful blue or a failed grey.  And he did fail a number of times, his brow wrinkling, but he had about him that drive of experimentation they shared when inventing spellwork: failure was not failure, only information to be utilized in the pursuit of understanding.

“Hm. I think I have it.”

Essek inclined his head.  “Show me.”  He waved his hand and dispelled the game board, replacing it with a new one of larger dimensions.

Caleb indicated a row. “Here there are 10 squares, and it is marked with a 1, 3, and 2.   This means there are groupings of tiles in that composition, in that order, that are neighbors but do not touch.  You must cross-reference with other rows and columns to surmise where they can occur to be in harmony with the patterns of other rows and columns.  And you cannot always do it all at once.”  He tapped a few successful tiles.  Then, quickly engrossed, he continued on.

It was unsurprising that Caleb had quickly deduced the Undercommon numerals by their context, and that he had figured out the simple rules, but there was always pleasure in observing his mind work.  Essek watched Caleb’s face instead of the puzzle.

In the work of a few minutes, he was tapping the last tile of the pattern. The whole grid pulsed with faint light, and dissolved into stardust.

“Oh, pretty.” Caleb tilted his head back to smile at Essek. “You invented this?  It is a remarkable bit of spellwork.”

Essek preened. “It is useless except for this, of course.  A pastime, nothing more.  But when the need arises… I have always found it soothing.”

“May I copy it down?”  Caleb rubbed at his eyes and cast around for pen and ink from the nearby table where their research papers were cast about like autumn leaves.

“Tomorrow.” Essek stayed Caleb in his chair with a hand on his shoulder. “It will take an hour or two, and we have just established that you are in need of rest.  Please, allow me.  I will cast them until you wish to stop.  They require minimal arcane power.”

Caleb’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and drew Essek’s hand from his shoulder and kissed the palm of it.  “If you insist, dear.”

Essek smiled.  “I do.”

Nine and half puzzles later, Caleb was leaned on his elbow, dozing.  

With a flick of his wrist, Essek dispelled the half-finished puzzle and eased himself off the arm of the chair, found a throw blanket, and draped it over Caleb’s lap.  The sleek tabby cat Bartolomew was quick to follow, and Strudel — the earlier insult forgotten — joined soon after, but Caleb did not stir at the added weight, used to his cats making themselves comfortable anywhere at any hour. 

Essek’s feet made no sound as he floated to the kitchen and puttered about making tea.  He would have to leave in the morning, but for now, in the quiet broken only by the clank of the teapot and Caleb’s snoring, this was home.

-

This ficlet is based off of nonogram puzzles. If you'd like to try one online, I recommend this site!

#tired brain go brrrr #shadowgast #critical role #c2 #tumblr snippets #op #ariadne writes CR

[the-kaedageist]

WIP Ask Game

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I was tagged by @ariadne-mouse! I need a kick in the pants to (a) write and (b) add more posts to my queue, so let's see if this does it.

I have a truly egregious amount of wips, so I have done some weeding and removed the ones about my dnd character and all my various 2T2L drafts. Non-CR ones are marked as such!

hawthornross (The Last Binding series)

notorioussorcerer (The Burnished City series)

deirta fic

reincarnation lol (Original)

5times the nein tried to hook up sg

sg soulbonding

tusk love origins

caduceusfjordjester qpr

Tagging, if you're interested: @mllekurtz @professor-rye @tarydarrington @catalists @cers-astral-adjacent @fireryn @callingvoicemail @annundriel and anyone else who might be interested!

(I've been somewhat absent from tumblr lately so not sure if any of you have already been tagged in this or not, sorry if it's a double 💕)

#I've opened anon asks for this! #my wips #my fics #wip ask game

[saturdaysky]

Tagged by @mllekurtz for this fic meme — how did you know I did not wish to be coding right now?

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

Just 7 so far! I've written more, but most of those are languishing in WIP purgatory.

2) What’s your total AO3 word count?

20,340, split between a relative chonker and a handful of 1k ficlets.

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

I've only written actual fics for Critical Role. Other than that, a handful of tiny snippets/rp swaps way back when for Thor. I wrote a fic for Teen Titans when I was like, 13?

4) What are your top five fics by kudos?

Quiet Night, short & sweet wizards getting frisky in the dome smut

Bitter Balm, painful, dysfunctional hand-in-unlovable-hand shadowgast first kiss

the other things that make us, 13k emotionally-grueling words of wizards finding a home in each other

Rare Gift, Trent eats Essek for dinner, metaphorically

A Mind for Literature, silly and snarky romance novel shenanigans

And the other, juicier questions behind the cut for length reasons.

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

I like to! Don't always get around to it for various "bad at responding to all messages ever" reasons, but I do like to respond to the people who take time out of their days to leave a kind word.

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

Oh, hmm. Currently that's gotta be Rare Gift, which in its current form definitely ends with Essek hopelessly trapped in Ikithon's mental interrogation. He started off just as hopelessly trapped, of course, but he didn't realize it.

It has a chapter 2 in the works, and I'm afraid things get much worse before they get better. This is where I reveal that I'm a big fan of the hurt portion of hurt/comfort. :)

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

I'm not a huge crossover fan, really. AUs are great, though.

8) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I got a flame on the Teen Titans fic when I posted it on fanfiction.net as a tween. I took it down (melodramatically) and then pursued non-writing interests. Writing for CR is the first I've really tried my hand at writing in earnest, and it's been fun.

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

I do! You know that post that's like "the plot of this smut fic is that Character A feels himself abandoned by god"? That's my fav genre of smut. 😎 I am interested in relationships with weird dynamics, and that's interesting to explore through smut sometimes. Plus smut's just fun to write, when I'm of a mind for it -- see my #1 kudos'd fic being a silly little smut ficlet.

10) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah, not sure anyone would bother. What's the point of stealing fics, anyway? If someone uploads a fic of mine to like... wattpad, more power to them, I guess. I don't really see it happening, but it wouldn't really affect me if it did. Same reason I do not care at all about anyone using my art for a profile pic or for their D&D characters -- it's harmless.

11) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

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

I've co-tossed-around-wip-ideas before! But actually writing fics? No. Maybe someday?

13) What’s your all time favourite ship?

I don't really do all-time favorites because my interests change, but shadowgast will be sticking with me for a long time. I'm betting I will still be fond of it even when my CR fixation wanes.

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

Shadowgast Your Name AU. I have 5k words of this and a lot of thoughts about it, but the complex plot required is daunting, and I'd have to rewatch a lot of early CR to make it happen. But it's such a cool idea you guys :'(

15) What are your writing strengths?

I think I can turn a pretty phrase, and I'm good at capturing emotions, including complicated emotions. I think my dialogue tends to be pretty good. I'm still fairly new at this, so I am learning my strengths as I go. It's fun! I like trying new stuff and seeing if it sticks. :D

16) What are your writing weaknesses?

My fics start off usually as dialogue or internal monologue without any kind of grounding environment, scenery, or visual information, and I think you can tell, haha.

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

I don't really care for it. I think it breaks the fourth wall in a weird way for the POV character to not understand the words spoken, but perceive them clearly enough that I, the reader, can see the complete and correct phrases written out in that language. In that case, I'd prefer something that obfuscates it for me as well so I don't get pulled out of the character's head.

Endearments, single words, and other unobtrusive uses don't really bug me.

18) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Technically, Teen Titans. Writing for real, Critical Role.

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

The one I just wrote, the other things that make us. I'm proud of it. :)

I had a lot of fun writing shadowgast trapped between what they want and what circumstances allow, plus all the dysfunctional edges that remain in their relationship despite the deep affection. Also, who doesn't love putting their favs through the wringer til they pull out a happy ending?

I think it turned out very well. It feels like I proved to myself that I can write the kinds of stories I would like to write, which is a nice feeling I did not have before.

Tagging (with no pressure at all, apologies if you've already been tagged) @catalists @marsastronomica @burningdarkfire @ariadne-mouse @renquise @sky-scribbles @aboxthecolourofheartache @callingvoicemail @nellasbookplanet and anyone else who would like to be tagged!

#my writing #memes

[aboxthecolourofheartache]

Tagged by @ariadne-mouse! Rules: Write the latest line from your wip and tag as many people as there are words in the line.

For CR: Dark possibility streams through the slash between what is and what might have been, drawn like iron filings to the magnet of Essek’s will.

For NiF: “Luckily for you and all the little foxes, I take after him in temperament.” 

Please consider yourself tagged if you would like to participate! :D

[ariadne-mouse]

the usual

Shadowgast, Rated G, 573 words, prompt: late night takeout

-

"We should perhaps take a break."

"We are getting somewhere, though." Caleb stood and cracked his back. A topographic map of papers, open books, and component jars was laid out on the floor before them.

"We are," Essek agreed. "But if we keep going, it will be several more hours before we pause a second time, and I may begin chewing on parchment to sustain myself."

As if on cue, Caleb's stomach gave a loud gurgle. He ruefully put his hands on his middle. "Ach, you've woken the beast. Well. I suppose you are right. Do you have food here, or should we go out?"

Essek straightened his robes and neatened his hair with an effortless wave of Prestidigitation. "The night is warm. Let us walk. I know a place." He twisted a ring on his finger and his image shimmered, though to Caleb - who wore a second, matching ring - he still looked like himself.

("You know it is an Empire tradition to marry with an exchange of rings," Caleb had teased him, accepting the plain copper band. Only a Detect Magic would reveal it as enchanted. Essek had looked a little embarrassed, but shrugged it away. "I only wish for you to see me as I am. You don't have to take it." And Caleb, warmed, had put the ring directly on his finger and it had been there ever since.)

Caleb followed Essek through the streets of Nicodranas, which were not vacant even at this late hour, but peaceful and welcoming by the presence of others strolling by to enjoy the balmy air and the stars.

After twenty minutes of walking in companionable silence, they came to a storefront whose cheerful interior made it appear as a lantern in the dark. Steam and smoke fled the chimneys on the roof, and the clank of pots and pans and the murmur of people's voices from within broke the spell of nocturnal calm that wrapped around the rest of the city.

"The usual, please," Essek said to an attendant who opened a side window, releasing a billow of air fragrant with herbs and spices. "And... your special for today."

Twenty minutes more, and they were sat on a wooden bench nearby with cheap clay pots in hand, heavy with broth, vegetables, fresh seafood, and translucent rice noodles.

"Your usual," Caleb teased.

Essek raised his eyebrows and did not reply, as he was busy transferring a cascade of noodles into his mouth with chopsticks. They finally vanished with a less-than-dignified slurp. He patted his mouth with a handkerchief. "You have cilantro in your beard. And a bit of oil."

"Oh. Would you?" Caleb tilted his chin forward. Prestidigitation washed over him a moment later. The tingle of it continued down the back of his neck and to his collarbones. Caleb laughed. "I did not have soup all the way down to there, did I?"

Essek sniffed primly and busied himself with his next bite, humor tugging the corner of his mouth.

When they were done, the clay pots set aside to return to the bin at the back of the restaurant, they simply sat there for a long time, watching the passers-by on the street. The warm air wrapped around them, every so often carrying a hint of the sea. The stars glimmered above.

"This was a good idea," Caleb said, Essek's hand in his. He lifted it to brush his lips against the back of it.

Essek smiled. "I know."

#thanks for the prompt jess! <3 #critical role #tumblr snippets #shadowgast #ariadne writes CR #my personal interpretation is that shadowgast probably wouldn't focus on something like marriage in their actual post-canon life #so it's fun to sort of write around its outline to show that they don't need vows or formality to be as close as they are #(note - this is not commentary on what people should/shouldn't write in fic! i've written them married in other ficlets)

[ariadne-mouse]

I'm pushing through coming back from a writing break, so I have decided to share a snippet from an upcoming fic: an interlude set within till human voices wake us, aka mercaleb, during the time Essek was regularly visiting the cavern in Nicodranas:

“Is there anything you miss?” Essek stared at the water droplets hanging from his fingertips aloft, each one catching in the sunlight from the cavern roof.  Tiny illuminated worlds.  He tipped his hand and let them slide down his palm. “From your time on land.” The mop of red hair pillowed under Essek’s chin shifted.  ‘Hm.  Many things.’  Caleb’s tail flicked lazily in the water at the other end of the pool.   They had been curled together there for the better part of an hour, dozing after a bout of swimming and a fresh-caught meal.  “Such as?”  Essek idly waved Prestidigitation over Caleb’s hair, drying it.  Without the water’s darkness it had a coppery sheen, and the light turned errant strands to gold.  Essek began to run his fingers through it.  Caleb’s weight melted further into him.  There were some similarities between Caleb and his sometimes-familiar, Essek thought fondly; the only thing missing was the purring. ‘Dancing.’   “Dancing?”  Try as he might, Essek had difficulty picturing it.  It was already a stretch imagining Caleb standing on feet. ‘Yes.  In the dancing-caverns.  The… 'dance halls'.  I was very bad at it.  But it did not matter.’ Water splashed as Caleb’s tail flipped again, and he tilted his head to grin up at Essek.  The sharpness of his teeth could have been unsettling, so out of place in an otherwise human face, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes were what drew Essek’s attention now, and he grinned helplessly back.  If it hadn’t required moving from their comfortable embrace, he would have leaned down to give Caleb a kiss. “Empire dances are very… jovial, yes?  I have seen some in Nicodranas, I think.  A great deal of turning, and feet left the ground often.” ‘Ja, many of them have a lot of jumping about.’  Caleb sighed contentedly and cozied back up to Essek’s chest. ‘It is one of the activities that made me grateful for chairs.’

#this oneshot and the Unhinged AU are my two major projects at the moment #i'm excited to be able to share them! #ariadne writes CR #fic: mercaleb #shadowgast #op

[ariadne-mouse]

For a prompt from @lakrisrot

a tell-tale mark of happiness

(848 words, rated G, Shadowgast)

The sound of talk and laughter greeted Caleb from behind the door ahead, heralding the merry-making Nein within. It was the third such of these monthly get-togethers, and Caleb was very pleased with himself for starting the tradition. He was also pleased tonight in particular because he had arrived here by way of other welcome company — a certain Essek Thelyss, who had lingered in the foyer of Caleb’s new cottage when it was time to say farewell.

“Until we meet again, Caleb Widogast.  What is it you say?  Don’t be a stranger.”  A quirk of his lips — which were subtly painted today, a new and intriguing look for his friend. “I cannot promise the same, for I may be resorting to some disguises in the near future.  But…  I will return, if you will have me.”

“You need only send word ahead,” Caleb had replied. “I will be here.”

And with a flash of nightshade-colored spellwork, Essek had vanished, wearing a smile like the seal on a secret letter.

(Essek had also kissed him on the cheek, which thrilled him perhaps a disproportionate amount for such a small thing.)

(Still, it was the first time Essek had chosen to do so.)

(It had been soft)

(and nice) 

(and over much too quickly.)

With a creak of hinges, Caleb stepped into light and warmth. "This little room is so stuffy with all of you carrying on," he complained, and was immediately swept into a crushing hug by Jester.

"Cay-leb!" His back popped as Jester squeezed him and then set him on his feet, then held him at arm's length to look him over. Something in his expression must have given his joy away, because her jaw dropped and her grin grew sharp with mischief. "You seem very happy, Caleb.  Did something nice happen to you?  Something very nice?"  She waggled her eyebrows.

"Something nice happened to him," agreed Yasha, her chin on Beau’s shoulder where they were sprawled on the couch.  Yasha’s smiles were small, but precious, like the yellow button-flowers tucked into the edges of the Zemnian countryside, and it gladdened Caleb to see one now. “Or someone.”

"Yeah, definitely.  It's written all over his face," Beau drawled. An unopened bottle of Lionet wine sat on the floor nearby her.  For all that Caleb did his best to replicate good wines in the tower, she insisted on bringing a bottle of her own choice vintage each time.  (“Can’t show up empty-handed to a party,” she had grunted once. “S’rude.”)

"Written?" Fjord quirked his head to the side.  When Jester flounced back onto the bed next to him and leaned her head on his chest, he automatically began fiddling with curls of her hair.  "Would we say written?  More like… stamped.  Branded.  Emblazoned?"

Caleb could not help but smile back at them, his cheeks feeling warm. Was it so obvious? He rubbed the back of his neck. “You are all very astute.  I have just seen our friend Essek.”

"Well I'm happy for you Caleb," Veth announced, hands on her hips. Then, more critically, her eyes narrowed: "Was he any good?" 

Caleb coughed. "Please, Veth, it was only tea.”

"Yeah, Caleb," Kingsley grinned, long booted legs propped up against the wall. "Was he any good?" 

Caduceus, his long lines draped over an armchair, craned his neck up and squinted. "Can you really tell from—? Never mind, I don't want to know."

"We did not— that is not— we had tea. And worked on a spell for a short time." Caleb waited a beat, then could not help but add, slyly, “...Which he was very good at, of course.”

"Wizard sex," Kingsley shook his head. "Veth, you were right."

"I will cast the tower now,” Caleb said, face afire, feeling desperately fond of his friends. He needed to redirect them or he might combust.  "You are all clearly in need of a drink. I need to hear what you have been up to!"

Like this monthly reunion, his meetings with Essek were a new tradition, and Caleb was still finding his footing.  They were still finding their footing.  It was good.  Terrifying, and complicated, but good.  His embarrassment at being so transparent aside, he was touched by his friends’ notice and interest in his happiness — a feeling to stow away in his pocket like pinstriped candies in winter.

“Come in, come in,” he ushered them into the stained glass atrium a minute later.

The cats brought them all their favorite foods, and they drank Beau’s wine, and more than once someone commented again (always with that air of wickedness) at how happy and pleased Caleb looked.  He endured their teasing with a little chagrin and a great deal of love.

It was only at the end of the evening when they had all wound their way to bed, that Caleb happened to glance in the mirror before washing his face.  There, stark against his freckled cheekbone, was a lip print in dark plum.

He had been wearing Essek’s kiss all evening.

Caleb covered his face with his hands.

“Ah, shiesse.”

#shadowgast #(though essek is sir not appearing in this ficlet) #caleb widogast #tumblr snippets #ariadne writes cr #critical role #c2

[ariadne-mouse]

a mile high - 545 words - rated M - Shadowgast

Moved an old Discord ficlet to Ao3! Short, silly, and nsfw, I hope it makes you laugh.

#ariadne writes CR #shadowgast #op #ao3 links

[ariadne-mouse]

Here's a little sneak peek at my next project, a light chaptered affair with a comedic tone similar to my ficlet A Weird Soup (aka no dignity left unimpinged). Working title The Unhinged AU, for reasons that will be explained later and also probably will be evident by the content 😂. It started as many of my projects have, as a plea to my friends for quick writing prompts that immediately took on a life of its own.

(shadowgast, excerpt ~500 words and rated G)

-

Essek’s fine shoes were not meant to be walked in for great distances, or at significant speed on anything but a red carpet or a smooth hardwood runway, but right now Essek was doing both.  Tap, tap, went his heels on the pavement as he went as fast as he could without actually running.  It was a “step aside, I’m on my way to a murder” kind of walk.  Essek found it very effective for parting crowds.

Unfortunately, Essek was not actually on his way to a murder.  He would have enjoyed that, perhaps, especially if the hypothetical victim — victims — were the gum-sucking, flash-mobbing, carrion-eating paparazzi that had somehow gotten wind of this intention to pick up lunch at Le Petit Veau.  He didn’t even like the food there.  He had just wanted a decent coff—

WHAM!

Essek’s unstoppable force abruptly met an immovable object, except it wasn’t immovable or nearly as poetic, because the ground was approaching fast and whoever he’d hit was going ass-over-teakettle over the decorative hedge bordering an outdoor seating area, shoes sweeping comically in the air.  Essek’s last thought as the shoes went by before he really got acquainted with physics on his side of the green divide was: hm, good leather, very worn, but cared for.

“Shit!”  Essek groaned and scrambled to his feet, his hip aching and hands stinging.  His smartphone screen was cracked.  He had half a mind to keep going — the harpies of discord were surely close behind him— except that if someone had gotten this on video, it would be hell for weeks.  Well.  More hell.  He could see the newsblog headlines now: Supermodel Essek Thelyss Puts Innocent Man In The Hospital, Flees Scene (On Foot - He’s Just Like Us!) See What He’s Wearing And Where To Buy It [Here].

Thank all the gods and all the demons too that there weren’t any patrons except a tiny old man who hadn’t even looked up from his newspaper, but Essek was still acutely aware of passers-by who had paused at the spectacle, and he hurried to assess any possible casualties.  “My apologies, are you alright?”

The immovable object of Essek’s demise turned out to be a tall, lanky man with ginger hair and a neatly trimmed beard, artful tattoo sleeves down to his wrists, and an apron that cheerfully announced him as an employee of The Sunrise Roast Café.  Good!  Essek could terrify him with the threat of a bad review if necessary.

“I think so,” the man said, getting to his feet and rubbing his tailbone.  His accent was Zemnian.  He was also much taller standing up.  “Ach.  Maybe a bruise.”  He looked Essek over once, quickly, and then again, more slowly.  Essek braced for the inevitable recognition, but there was no spark in the stranger’s gaze except for the kind of appreciation Essek found aimed his way all the time.  “Are you?  That was quite a fender-bender.  I’m sorry, I didn’t see you.”

#it's been very fun to write so far #shadowgast #ariadne writes CR #fic: the unhinged AU #op #critical role

[ariadne-mouse]

For the combination of two prompts:

"headache relief" and "a truly abysmal cup of tea"

Shadowgast, rated G, hurt/comfort, 833 words

-

Essek's visits to Caleb's cottage in Rexxentrum were brief, and precious; despite their shared expertise in dunamancy, there never seemed to be enough time. And so when Essek arrived one windy spring morning, but could not concentrate on their shared research, and shied away with a wince from the meager light filtering through the shuttered windows, Caleb felt even more urgency to remedy whatever ailed him. Not just so that Essek would be well, but because these narrow hours were all they had to express the full spectrum of anything and everything they might have to say to each other.

There was Sending, yes, and Essek was talented in layering many things into few words.  But Caleb found he yearned to make and share space, and to see the gallery of Essek’s expressions play across his sharp-toothed mouth, his elegant brows, his clever eyes.

This pained, stubborn expression was a new one on his dear friend, and Caleb cataloged it feverishly in his memory even as he sought its antidote.

"It's nothing," Essek demurred, when Caleb pressed. "A slight headache." 

"Do you need to rest? You are very welcome to--" 

"I did not come here to sleep," Essek cut him off, then shook his head at the suggestive implication, waving it away as if it was a bothersome fly, then winced at both sudden motions. "I am here so we can revise the second runic config-" he broke off with a hiss and rubbed his temple. 

"Essek," Caleb half-chided, half-pleaded. "What can I do? I have healing potions. Or do you need Jester?" 

"Oh, no — please, no."

In fairness, he was probably right.  Despite her capacity for healing, Jester might very well simultaneously increase the headache in some other way, bright and loud and well-intentioned. 

Essek reached for a quill and a spare parchment from their research and jotted down a list, and a set of notes, his eyes squinting, his shoulders a scrunched line of weary tension. He offered this to Caleb, ink still wet, letters running rudely together. "If you can procure these herbs and prepare them as written, that would be a great help. This... issue... has a particular root cause, and a particular solution." 

Caleb burned two teleportations and ten minutes in the city, and another ten minutes in his small kitchen fussing with hot water and dead plants. While he'd been gone, Essek had curled up in an armchair with his feet tucked childishly under himself and his forehead resting on the upholstered arm, eyes closed, breathing slowly and deliberately, flinching when the metal pot clanged on the stove. 

The resulting brew was enough to fill one of his homely porcelain teacups, and dark enough to look like it might leave a stain. The smell was cloying, bitter. Essek looked at it with a combination of relief and revulsion. After cooling the steam off it with a curtly-gestured prestidigitation, he lifted it to his lips — markedly hesitated — then downed the whole thing in a few rapid gulps. 

"Water, please." He thrust the cup back at Caleb, his face an open snarl of disgust. 

The water, quickly procured, vanished with the same hurry and lack of decorum as the tea. Essek slouched back into the overstuffed armchair like he’d just fought a battle. His expression twitched a few more times, nose wrinkling and lips smacking, aftershocks of the taste of the tea. 

"And now?" Caleb pitched his voice low.  Essek sighed, eyes closing once more. "I wait for it to kick in. Always slower than I would like." 

Caleb said nothing, only waited there, his continued presence itself the question. 

One of Essek's eyes cracked open, a sliver of violet picking up the dim light. After regarding Caleb blearily, he extended his arm off the edge of the armchair, palm-up and limp, like it was not attached to him. "Press your thumbs to the heel of my hand, if you like." 

A simple task for a clever man. Caleb sat leaned forward in his chair with his elbows on his knees, Essek's hand in his, making gentle pressure points and soothing circles, over and over. Over the next quarter hour, the tension in Essek's shoulders and neck eased, and his breathing slowed, and the wrinkle between his brows ebbed away like a ripple of cloud erased by the wind. At some point Caleb moved his ministrations to Essek's other hand, as gentle as the first.  It was quiet in the cottage.

"Stop," Essek finally said. "That's enough." 

Caleb stopped. "Better?" 

"Yes. A bit." Essek sat up, very disheveled still.  He did not untuck his feet.  He was a cozy lump on the armchair, like a cat woken from a nap.

"Gut,” Caleb smiled.  There was a faint imprint of the upholstery on Essek’s cheekbone.  “Now, how would you like a cup of tea that doesn't smell like an alchemical mistake?  I have many offerings, courtesy of our friend Caduceus." 

"Yes," Essek replied, with a ghost of humor returning. "Please."

#thank you sky for the prompts! #i went with some nice simple comfort vibes #the tea is inspired by the iron supplement I have to take #it's truly godawful and I make faces every time I drink it #tumblr snippets #shadowgast #critical role #op #ariadne writes CR

[ariadne-mouse]

Here's some art for a man by any other face, found here on Ao3!

Months after Essek and the Mighty Nein part ways in the Blooming Grove, a strange creature shows up at the edge of the Vurmas outpost. (Or, four times Caleb uses Polymorph and one time Essek does, and how both of them must navigate the transformation of the self that is beyond magic.)

4/4 chapters, ~34k words, Shadowgast, Rated T

#didn't start as a cover but when I was done I liked the look #shadowgast #polymorph shenanigans #fanart #ariadne writes CR #ariadne draws CR #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #fic: ambaof #op

[ariadne-mouse]

Did some cover art for my Shadowgast fic Everything in Aeor Is Fine. If you'd like some spooky thrills, hurt/comfort, and wizards being wizards (affectionate, derogatory), check it out! Mind the tags.

#everything in aeor is fine #(spoilers: it isn't) #critical role #ariadne draws CR #op #shadowgast #fic: eiaif #cw: flashing #just in case! #i don't think it's too bad though #i tried to make the change gradual #ariadne writes CR

[ariadne-mouse]

So with Mercaleb being over for a while now, I’ve felt a bit bereft as an author and found myself working on my next project pretty quickly.  I wanted to explore the wizards through a different lens, as I do, but with Caleb once again taking the form of the Other contrasted to Essek.  Mercaleb, Volcaleb — this is definitely one of my jams.  I hope you will enjoy the start of something new!

The title is from William Cullen Bryant's A Forest Hymn.

(~1400 word snippet, shadowgast, rated G for now)

.

the groves were god's first temples

The night was dark, and the windows of Essek’s office were speckled with water droplets, each pane a portrait of the rain’s ever-changing visage as it peered in at the room’s lone occupant.

Essek of Den Thelyss worked by candlelight, and by magelight, comfortable with the dark and yet preferring illumination as he bent to his studious labors: a spell theorem that could unlock a new sub-branch of dunamancy.  A fire in the hearth warmed his back.  A cup of tea steamed at his elbow, hot only due to refreshments of Prestidigitation.  Essek had not arisen from his chair in several hours.

“It’s really quite simple,” Essek said aloud, tone edged in frustration. “I don’t see why you must persist in seeking complications.”

For Essek was not truly alone, whatever it might appear to an outside observer.  He was never alone here in the study, the sanctum sanctorum of his tower.

“Let us begin again,” he continued. “Beginning with the Principle of Infinite Division, which is the concept that there are a limitless number of divergences from any given point in time, and thus the isolation of a single timeline thread in continuity carries with it the complications of having to specify infinite selections within an infinite number possibilities.”

He paused, letting the words sink in.

The potted plant on his desk listened serenely, the green faces of each leaf gleaming handsomely.  This was a being of the sunlit hours, displaced in the eternal darkness of Rosohna, requiring specialized care and constant light.  A mark of status.  But for Essek, it was someone to talk to.  

Well — something.  Of course.

Merely something.

It didn’t feel that way, though; it was the strangest phenomenon.  It felt as though his words were being heard, and understood.

He had dreams, sometimes, where it answered him.

Essek cleared his throat.  “As you can surmise, this represents a challenge if you wish to locate a specific timeline in its entirety.  Now, if I can craft a formulaic element to the incantation or inscription — a repeatable recipe, if you will — I could solve the selection process without having to account for each of these divisions individually.  Namely, by identifying a unique signature that is ascribable to multiple points within it—”  He trailed off, and sighed.  “I’ve lost you again, haven’t I.  Here, let me better illuminate you.”

He beckoned several magelights — amber-colored, as the last afternoon sun — to hover closer to it, lips quirking wryly at his own joke.  

Was it his imagination, or did the leaves turn to seek the light?

“You are very patient with me,” Essek said.  “I have been preaching to you all day, and still you endure it.  I know what I mean, but when I say it aloud, I hear all the faults of each idea.”  

The tree rustled, as if to reassure him.  

It was probably just his sleeve brushing the branches — almost assuredly — almost — but he nodded in acknowledgement, feeling touched and a little chagrined.  “I know, I know.  It takes time.  You are constantly teaching me this.”

Carefully he tested the top of the plant’s pebbled soil with his fingertips, and then lifted the container from its dish to see its base, and found no chill of moisture in the sturdy clay. 

“Ah!  I am neglecting you, as well.  I am sorry.”

The remnant of his tea, made cold with the wave of a hand, went into the pot.

Essek leaned on his palm, maudlin.  “My theorem is a bit like you.  It started small and unrestrained, and over time has grown and been pruned and trained and refined until it is something worth looking at.  An elegant echo in miniature of a larger concept.  Or at least, that is what it is supposed to become.  I wonder, is there a Dwendalian tree somewhere in the Empire that looks like you, but as tall as a tower?”

It truly was a beautiful thing, a tree tricked by skilled gardeners into staying absurdly small, and yet lasting centuries, turning colors or bearing fruit as a full-sized tree might.  It was currently fashionable for Kryn nobility to own at least one.  His mother had a garden full.

“Maybe I’m wasting my time,” Essek sighed, rotating the pot with restless fingers, a centimeter at a time.  The tree was lovely from every angle.  “Maybe I am all tangled up in my own ideas, roots snarled together, strangling my own progression.  Maybe I’m not a prodigy after all, and my critics are right about me.  Maybe— oh!”

A bright crimson-orange flower had interrupted his vision of greenery.  Diminutive but striking, its petals were ruffled in an imitation of flame.  Had it been there before?  

Essek dared to touch the bloom and found it whisper-soft.  “Is this for me?”  He smiled and looked down at the desk. “Thank you.”

He didn’t let himself be vulnerable in public, especially not with his peers at the Marble Tomes.  Encouragement was usually concealing condescension, and praise, envy, and Essek had no appetite for these poisoned gifts.

Here, though, speaking to his quiet listener, he could be imperfect.  He could make mistakes, and be treated with grace.  Free of judgment. 

He traced the edge of the flower one more time, then took a breath, emboldened.

“Alright.  Starting once again, from the beginning.  Once we accept the Principle of Infinite Division, a challenge in identifying a single timeline occurs when—”

The rain pitter-patted on the windows, as though the night was curious too about how Essek’s research was progressing and wished to listen in.  The low murmur of Essek’s voice mingled with the crackle of the hearth, the space warm, and though Essek was alone, he was not lonely.

Hours passed.  The fire grew low, and the candles short. 

Essek was slumped on the desk, head pillowed on one arm, and the other loosely circling the base of the potted tree, knuckles resting against cool ceramic.  His magelights had gone out a while ago and he had not recast them.  A few fresh pages of scribblings were scattered around him.  A few had fallen to the floor among a modest graveyard of crumpled rejects.

His eyes were closed, neither fully trancing nor true-sleeping, but a hazy mixture of both in which reality felt surreal and soft-edged.  A well-earned doze after his academic fugue: he had made progress.

He was not alarmed when there was the muted susurrus of a throw blanket unfolding, nor the weight of it coming to rest on his shoulders.  He accepted these things each as they happened, feeling content.

“It’s me,” came a low voice, pitched soft as a midnight breeze through new leaves.  

“I know,” Essek said sleepily, eyes still closed.  “I always know when it’s you.”  

Fingers carded through his hair.  “Resting at your desk again?  I hope it is because things are going well.”

“It is,” Essek answered. “I have been using the method you suggested.”

“Oh?”

With a yawn, he straightened up and opened his eyes.

Caleb was there, leaned against the desk, looking down at Essek with fondness crimping his expression, his red hair turned bronze by the glowing embers in the hearth.  He looked travel-weary and wonderful.

Essek took up Caleb’s hand and held it to his cheek, just because he could. “Yes, I have been explaining the concepts aloud, as if to an ignorant audience.”  He indicated the potted miniature tree next to Caleb’s hip.

Caleb nodded sagely, eyes twinkling.  “Ah, and is our green friend here now fully educated in the Principle of Infinite Division?”

“He’s getting there,” Essek replied.  Then he tugged gently on the hand he held captive, turning his face up to Caleb as a morning flower does the sun.  “Now, come here.”

Caleb smiled, and went.

.

(Happy April Fools! 😁💜🌳)

(also the bonsai is a dwarf pomegranate and would not be "as tall as a tower" in the Empire. Essek knows nothing about botany except where it crosses into alchemy.)

#i probably shouldn't take on such an ambitious project so soon #but i have no self control #etc etc #it's so fun to use AU lenses to examine the blorbos #and of course be very self-indulgent in the imagery etc #....and now that this is below the cut for tags #Happy April Fools' Day! #I do love me an Other!Caleb #but this is essentially the Rubber Duck Coding Method for Wizards #I hope you got a chuckle #april fools day #shadowgast #critical role #ariadne writes CR #tumblr snippets #essek thelyss #op

[ariadne-mouse]

For the prompt "a kiss neither person expects"

Shadowgast, 748 words

“Has anyone seen the green paper ribbon?”

A voice cut through the wedding hubbub to reach Caleb’s ears.  Essek was weaving in and out of the chaos with the dexterity of a dancer — he dodged two handymen carrying a vase of flowers big enough to fit a small halfling family inside (they had checked for Luc, just in case), a parade of chairs headed out to the ceremony area, and a gaggle of servers balancing hors d’oevures.

“The green paper ribbon?” Essek tried again, peering in every open box, on shelves, and even, humorously, under a table, all with increasing urgency.

“Nope!” Beau swung through, carrying an ungainly box that should have been too heavy for someone of her size.  She balanced it on one hand to waggle a roll of paper streamers at him.  “I got blue.  You want blue?”  

“No, no — Jester clearly specified it must be green.” Essek ran his hands through his hair, ruining his elegant coif.  He raised his voice, moving on from Beau. “Has anyone seen the green paper ribbon?  Green!”

He vanished from the room, and Caleb could hear the query being repeated.

Caleb looked down at the seating placards he was organizing, rubbed his chin, then stood up to poke around while the wedding preparations swirled around him.  He remembered seeing — on the refreshments table — ah yes, here.  The roll of green paper streamers, meant for garlanding the pavilion outside.  It was hiding under the open lid of a box of sugared pastries.

“The green paper ribbon?  Have you seen—?”  Essek was outside the door again.

Veth answered, her voice slightly strained, like she was carrying something. “No, but can you make this thing lighter?”

“Yes, fine—” There was a whiff of ozone.

“Thanks!”

Essek strode back into the room, his hair now in total disarray, eyes darting around.

“Did you need this?” Caleb asked, holding up the green ribbon.

Essek’s focus landed on him like a lightning strike.  When he saw what Caleb held, his whole posture collapsed in relief.  “Oh, thank the Light!”  He swooped in like a falcon, seized the roll of ribbon, then seized the sides of Caleb’s face and kissed him right on the lips.  By the time he was adding “Thank you!” he was already halfway out the door and gone.

Caleb stood where he was, poleaxed.

More people passed through, weaving around him with parcels and plates and furniture.  

“Hello Caleb!” Yasha lumbered by with another huge vase of flowers.  Her smile was sweet next to sprays of irises and gladiolus.

“Hallo,” he said absent-mindedly.  Spark, fizzle, went his brain.

A minute passed, and then Essek returned with the same whirlwind of energy he had left, the tail of the green ribbon roll that he still clutched flapping behind him.  He stopped short upon sight of Caleb, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Ah,” he said.  He wet his lips.  “Did I—?”

“Um,” Caleb replied intelligently. “Ja, I think so.”

“Coming through, fresh pastries!  Fresh pastries for the bride!” Caduceus ducked a little to avoid the doorframe. “Oh, hi there, Caleb.  Essek.”  He smiled and passed through, the sound of his footsteps joining others outside.

“Ah.” Essek’s expression had become something like terror.  His fingers were leaving little dents in the side of the ribbon roll. “Ah— sorry?  I don’t know why— I’m sorry.” 

Caleb once more tried to process what had just happened.  His lips felt like they might be buzzing with the memory.  Or, maybe there had been spice in the Nicodranian pastries.  Hard to tell.

“No,” he said, blinking.  His face felt very hot.  “No, it was fine.  Nice.  Ja.  Um.  Nice.”  He pointed at the green ribbon. “Don’t you have to—?”

“Fuck,” Essek exclaimed, and was gone once more.

Caleb blinked a couple more times, staring at the door Essek had disappeared through.  Then, slow as a sleepwalker, he sat back down at his table and picked up the seating cards.

“Okay,” he said to himself.  The names on the cards looked like squiggles of an unknown script after Comprehend Languages had worn off.  “Okay.” 

If the seating chart was somewhat confused when the time for the ceremony arrived, well, everyone sorted themselves out as best they could, and Jester and Fjord still got married at the end of it.  And if Caleb was noticeably flushed when he asked Essek for a dance in the celebrations that followed, and Essek too when he accepted, well, it could simply be the wine — but the way they looked at each other said otherwise.

#i know it's whumptober but have some toothrotting fluff #a nice little palate cleanser #critical role #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #shadowgast #c2 #op #tumblr snippets #ariadne writes CR

[ariadne-mouse]

“It is time.” With effort, Essek focused on the imposing figure of the Dusk Captain, flanked by two soldiers.  She had come to get him personally — how considerate. The meaning of her words took a few seconds to fully register.

Part 23/23 (complete) - Shadowgast - Rated T

#IT IS FINISHED #i shall now collapse on the floor #thank you everyone for reading :))) #there is also a sky illustration on its way for this chapter! stay tuned <3 #critical role #op #essek thelyss #shadowgast #c2 #fic: mercaleb #ariadne writes cr #ao3 links

[ariadne-mouse]

“You said dunamis fucks with gravity and probability and shit, right?” The wizard paused in the middle of adjusting his scarf.  It was a moment of absolute stillness that betrayed his interest when he replied, very casually, “Ja.”  The looping of purple knit resumed.  The pattern in it was complex, the yarn sleek and expensive, somewhat at odds with his dusty coat.  Pretty?  Yes.  As attire for the desert?  Ludicrous. Maybe Ashton shouldn’t want this man’s opinion. “Why do you ask?”

Ashton Greymoore & Caleb Widogast, 1.1k words, Rated T

#here we go a proper ao3 link post #ashton #caleb widogast #cr spoilers #c3e50 #c3 #ariadne writes CR #ao3 links #critical role