#( caleb: threads. )

[stardustedknuckles]

It's looking like there's a growing divide between Campaign watchers and Tlovm watchers in terms of like. We're here for the characters. 12-episode seasons aren't. They can't be. I'm already making peace with everything we'll lose in the Mighty Nein show, and I know I will enjoy it for what it is but I also know that almost nothing that made the story so special will translate to the screen, because turning it into a show automatically means (in this day and age) that plot must be the number one priority. They've already come out and told us it's going to be different, the characters we know and love but new stories.

Because that's how this has to work. And I feel bad for campaign one lovers, because while it is certainly the easier of the two to translate to a big, overarching story, even though it's a more "traditional" high fantasy story with easier archetypal characters, the archetypes and the plot aren't what cemented most people's love for the campaign. So much of the love for critical role is stored in the interpersonal dynamics and the payoff that comes from hundreds of hours of tiny interactions that one day become cornerstones of development and even affect or dictate the plot.

There's no room for that. There's no room for Bard's Lament in a story that cannot afford to remove and replace a main character. A lot of tlovm is for people who have been here for all of campaign one. Most of it, however, isn't. It's for a new crowd. While CR may have creative control, you can bet your ass that there were months and years devoted to figuring out how to map a character-focused love of the show into a plot that hits the right beats to be viable in the show market.

And it worked. Tlovm has consistently high viewing numbers, and its popularity has brought and will continue to bring new people into the universe who have never interacted with CR previously. That's not a bad thing - imagine finishing your favorite show and discovering it has another FIVE HUNDRED HOURS of the equivalent of behind the scenes content. That's incredible for these newcomers. But man, it is in many ways a loss for us.

[c-kiddo]

was worried parts of cr2 would not hold up on rewatch (especially seeing people hate the aeor arc so much) but ngl so far its either been good and fun as hell (travellercon, pirate arc) or just straight up banger after banger. like the xhorhas to angel of irons through to refjorged arc and then the cathedral.................. unrelenting slay

[sleg48]

After the Total Drama reboot’s Rematch, the post-season drama is still going strong…

[thebramblewood]

You mean you don't show affection for your one and only brother by repeatedly throwing the love of his life's tragic fate in his face?

Featuring a very tiny cameo by @moonfromearth's Veronica!

Previous / Next

Caleb: You look… refreshed.

Lilith: Yes. Thankfully, Veronica’s supply hit the spot. [appraising glare] I could say the same to you. I can smell her stink from over here.

Caleb: [momentarily alarmed] Whose?

Lilith: [rolls eyes] Don’t play dumb, Caleb. That spellcaster bitch! I can always tell when you’ve been gallivanting around the Realm.

Caleb: I’m sorry. Do I need your permission to visit a friend?

Lilith: Of course not. I just don’t know why you still bother. The only thing you two ever had in common has been a literal pile of ashes for years.

Caleb: I’m not talking about this with you now - or possibly ever again.

Lilith: Oh, she got you all riled up. [shouting] I know you’re hiding something! You’ve drawn an iron curtain across your thoughts, but I’ll tear it down eventually. I always do!

[youruinedmylifebynotbeingreal]

Anyone else still shocked that The Owl House crew actually managed to get a knife with blood okayed to have in the episode

[essektheylyss]

I do in fact hope that Chetney takes out that dispel magic function because Wildmother I crave violence Ludinus Da'leth getting eaten by a motherfucking blue dragon

[caleb-crow]

"Wait. You're not serious about calling the Doctor, are you?"

Two more parts to go! || Prev || Next ||

[feuerwizard]

starter for @sanguisarcana | caleb & astarion

Despite the simmering frustration brewing within Caleb towards his fellow companions on this particular evening, he still found it in himself to agree to conjure the tower for those who desired it. In truth, it may have been more for his own sake than anyone else's, as he preferred the spaciousness and privacy of his tower over the cramped and dingy campgrounds or a small, spare room in a tavern in Baldur's Gate.

The wizard’s usually level-headed demeanor replaced by a recent air of stress, his mind consumed by the ticking time clock represented by the tadpoles in their heads. And to add to the pressure, he was once again faced with seeing Astrid and Eadwulf again. And as time progressed, Caleb's frustration reached a boiling point as most of their group dismissed the idea of taking on Cazador as a priority.

He craved solitude, just a few blessed hours to collect his thoughts and regain some semblance of sanity. The weight of recent events was bearing down on him, threatening to crush his already fragile mental state. After a while, with his head properly back upon his shoulders, it was time to pay a visit to the one person with more of a right to be frustrated than him—Astarion.

A quick stride brought him down the hall to Astarion's room, its dark wooden door only a few steps away. He paused for a moment before knocking softly, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he waited for a response.

[clocks-divorcing-ticks]

"Take me out to the ball game" now lives in my head the same way "Sarsaparilla" does.

Both innocuous terms now associated with extreme acts of violence in a sanatorium by two deeply wronged and traumatised men. Sean Finnerty with his lucky baseball, hitting his final home run to avenge his brothers. Caleb Widogast casting gravity sinkhole on the guards below the sanatorium where he was held for 11 years.

Both powerful scenes roleplayed by talented actors committed to their characters and their depiction of the long-lived consequences of trauma.

Both scenes will rotate around my brain like a microwave until the end of time.

[nicolekart]

The bunch of doodles inspired by the latest chapter of this amazing fanfic I've been crazy about for a few weeks.

(I was sketching this yesterday, when I saw The Mighty Nein news :3)

the golden thread around your neck whispered visions of my undoing by MarsBar2019

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43430334/chapters/111900268

[eremington]

@caleb-lycaon

After everything that had happened with Jax, Elijah had asked to meet with Caleb so the two of them could talk in person. He'd been disappointed to hear about Jax leaving the pack but had kept any doubts to himself so he wouldn't undermine Caleb. Still, the state the beta had been in had been concerning, and that was how he'd ended up here fighting between the side of him that wanted to admonish Caleb and the side that understood where his distress came from. He knocked and stood back, hooking his hands into his pockets. "Caleb? It's Elijah."

[loftylockjaw]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: Wyatt (@loftylockjaw) & Caleb (@dirtwatchman) SUMMARY: Wyatt spots Caleb outside the bar. He confronts him about what happened with Charlie. CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

—

Worm Row was never an ideal location but Caleb was desperate. His clients weren’t calling him back, not that he could blame them, and the demon that occupied his body for over a month had blown a lot of the cash that he had stored away. Not to mention being softly fired meaning no more job at the cemetery. So turning down jobs wasn’t something he could do. Beggars couldn’t be picky, or whatever the saying was. When the manager at the Wormhole had called about one of their taps being on the fritz he’d greedily made his way down there on the emergency call before downing a few of the rancid drinks on the house. Maybe more than a few. His head was swimming just a little as he made his way out of the bar.

And promptly wanted to turn right back around. 

Wyatt was in that category of people that Caleb was trying to avoid these days. Seeing him coming down the street had the zombie panicking, turning to try and go back inside before Wyatt could see him only to knock over the trash cans sitting next to the door. “Shit.” He looked down as the loud clangs rang out and then quickly back up at the gator, sheepish this time. There was no avoiding him now. Wyatt had seen him and was only a few feet away. 

This conversation probably needed to be had but Caleb had been avoiding it for reasons. He’d apparently hurt somebody that Wyatt cared about and then turned the blame on him making the zombie seem like some love sick psycho who was only throwing a tantrum because a boyfriend or whatever he was had walked out. Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath before turning his body back to face Wyatt. “Um, hi.” What else could he say? ‘Sorry I stabbed your friend and put you through hell?’ It might have been a good place to start but his brain was malfunctioning, the alcohol not helping anything. “I’m probably the last person you want to see…”

—

Seeing Caleb in the wild, as it were, was jarring. While Wyatt hadn't expected to be able to go forever without seeing him again, some part of him quietly wished for it. He was conflicted: the zombie’s actions not aligning with what Wyatt knew about him intimately, and the fact that he'd hurt someone Wyatt cared for? Sure, their relationship had been a little… snafu'd lately, but it didn't mean the shifter had stopped giving a shit. And while he'd long accepted that Caleb was done with him, it didn't make it any easier seeing him again. Everything came rushing back to the surface as Wyatt watched the zombie fumble while trying to backpedal: a more Caleb reaction than anything Wyatt had witnessed during their last night together. 

His expression was stern as the other turned around to face him again, offering up a pretty pathetic greeting. What followed wasn't much better, even if it was accurate. Despite being the slightly shorter of the two, Wyatt’s presence remained the dominant one—another thing that had once been quite familiar, but now felt somehow… dirty. Wrong. Like the mere fact that he was in Caleb’s presence was a direct insult to Charlie. But… he had to know what the fuck had happened. 

“Quite the opposite,” he lied, stepping closer. It was threatening, almost, not helped by the hand that found Caleb’s shoulder and gripped it tightly. “Need to talk to you.” He'd been on his way here to knock back a few much-needed glasses of hard liquor before heading into work, but Caleb could accompany him. Answer some questions. Explain what the hell his problem was. He was steered back inside without an opportunity for protest, Wyatt keeping a firm hand on him to forestall any attempts to bolt.

Bourbon in hand and a quiet, private corner of the bar located, Wyatt stared Caleb down. “You got about an hour to explain to me what the hell has been goin’ on with you, then I gotta go to work. If I'm not satisfied with the answer by then…” He let the sentence die on his tongue, not really knowing what he would do. Drag Caleb to the Pit with him? His ex didn't even know Wyatt fought for a living, the only thing he'd ever known about was the restaurant. At this point, Wyatt didn't care about keeping that a secret. Let the man see what he did on an almost nightly basis, let him see how truly capable he was of violence when the need arose.

Wyatt just shrugged instead, waiting for Caleb to speak.

—

He tried to back away when Wyatt advanced but there was no point. The hand that gripped his shoulder was just as strong as he remembered, stronger really as Wyatt had never been forceful with Caleb before. His body involuntarily flinched at the touch but he didn’t say a word when Wyatt turned him and started marching him back inside. He didn’t try to run, didn’t even think of trying to run, because he deserved this. He deserved whatever was coming. 

But he didn’t get what he’d been expecting. Nobody had hit him yet. Nobody had threatened him. Nobody had screamed in his face. All he had been given was opportunity. Why were they all giving him opportunity instead of acting on the frustrations he knew he had caused? Why were they all acting like it wasn’t his own hands that had torn the flesh of others even if he didn’t want to? Caleb let the questions echo in his mind as Wyatt spoke but then he realized. Wyatt did think it was him controlling his own actions the whole time. He still thought that that day in his kitchen was Caleb’s choice, that stabbing Charlie was Caleb’s choice.

But he was still letting him explain.

“You still don’t know, do you?” It was a rhetorical question, the zombie swallowing the thick lump that had formed in his throat as too many emotions flooded through him. Relief because Wyatt was still giving him a chance despite what he thought. Confusion, hurt, and maybe a little anger because Wyatt thought he could be capable of such things. Despair because…he could be capable of such things. “I wasn’t exactly in control of my body.” All of those emotions mixed together and flooded out in those words, Caleb refusing to meet the other man’s eye while he picked at a spot on the table in front of him. “A demon was possessing me…using me. I couldn’t fight them off. I tried though. I really did. It’s hell being trapped inside your own mind wanting to do something about the damage you’re causing but not being able to.”

—

Don’t know what?! Wyatt wanted to shout, but he kept his trap shut and just let Caleb get it out first, which didn’t end up helping much in the end because it still didn’t make any fucking sense. “A demon.” He looked incredulous, and paused to take a sip of his drink. Fingers raised to pinch the bridge of his nose and he let out a long, exhausted sigh, anxious energy coursing through him and causing him to fidget on the spot. “You realize how fuckin’ stupid that sounds, right?” Looking around them, Wyatt seemed to be barely containing his anger as he addressed Caleb, sick to fucking death of all this cryptic shit everyone was on about. Just like his counterpart, he wasn’t even able to bring himself to look at Caleb, instead finding other things on the wall behind him to focus on. 

“Man, I… I don’t know what to fuckin’ say. You blew me off, and… you hurt my friend. And now you’re tellin’ me you were possessed? What am I supposed to do with that?” He ran a hand through his hair, taking another gulp of the drink and silently begging it to help him calm the fuck down. His heart was racing in his chest and he felt dizzy. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be. How could it be? Was Caleb about to tell him that heaven and hell existed, too? That God existed? It was stupid. 

“I should just… if I was a better friend, I’d tell Charlie I know exactly who you are, and I know exactly where to find you, n’ let him do what he’s gonna do. Hell, maybe even help. But I—I fuckin’ liked you. And this shit was… was so not like you…” Now he finally looked at Caleb, and felt his throat constrict. “I don’t… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with any of this.”

—

That was the anger he was expecting. It was what he had wanted but as soon as the biting words hit him he could feel his own anger bubble to the surface. All of this was so confusing. He wanted to be punished for the atrocities the demon had committed but he also couldn’t believe that Wyatt had the audacity to be upset with him. The Charlie thing he got, that was the expected part, but he really had the nerve to say that Caleb was the one who blew him off? “Of course I know how fucking stupid it sounds, Wyatt.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his seat while he told himself to lower his voice. “Almost as stupid as a zombie and an alligator hooking up for months and said alligator not being able to tell when something is seriously wrong with the zombie. It’s like some cheesy Halloween rom com.” Except none of this was romantic. Neither of them were going to confess their love or easily forgive because it wasn’t a movie.

And now he was realizing that he’d bit back. Caleb shrunk in on himself, half expecting for Wyatt’s anger to multiply, half thinking that his fists would start to fly. He could feel the shame taking over and he closed his eyes to take in a few breaths. His anger always led to his punishment. “You should tell him. I think Charlie deserves to know.” And whatever came from that came. Anyone who was stabbed should be able to face their attacker whether that attacker was possessed or not.

Liked. That word stung. “Right…not like me at all. Because it wasn’t me. I can’t blame you for not knowing how to take this because I don’t even know how. I don’t know what to think or how to act around the people Aesil hurt. Everything is fucked. My life is fucked but maybe-…I think I deserve it.”  He kept averting his gaze, not wanting to look at the man he thought could be something in his life now knowing that all of it was fucked. They really hadn’t known each other at all, had they? Could Caleb really blame him for not seeing the signs? 

He looked at Wyatt now, really looked at him, and saw the deep purple under his eyes. They were worse than the memories he had of that day in his kitchen. Something was wrong back then and it was bothering him even more now. “Speaking of not being ourselves…what's wrong with you?” He gestured to his own eyes, trying to indicate why he was asking. Somehow he didn’t think Wyatt would appreciate his touch.

—

Wyatt scoffed, even though Caleb was right. “I knew somethin’ was off, Caleb. But why in the fuck would my mind immediately jump to ‘possessed’? That’s not—” He sucked in a sharp breath, dragging a hand over his face. That didn’t matter. He wasn’t here to argue the existence of fucking demons. “I just thought—maybe, if somethin’ had happened that had you actin’ the way you were, I thought…” That maybe you were more like me than I assumed. That maybe I didn’t have to hide so much of myself from you anymore. That maybe this had a chance of being something real. The words were strangled in his throat, eyelids fluttering as he looked away again. 

Caleb was telling him he should tell Charlie, and all Wyatt could do was shake his head. “I can’t do that,” he breathed, sounding hopeless. If it was Caleb, if it wasn’t him, whatever the truth was… Wyatt had been more certain of his anger before seeing the man, but now all that righteous fury was dissolving in the acid wash of the other’s agonizingly plain regret. Caleb was saying he deserved to have his life ruined, and those words coiled around Wyatt’s throat like a boa constrictor. The Caleb he had known didn’t deserve any of this, plain and simple. And he sure as hell didn’t deserve someone who was happy, for however brief a moment in time, that he’d started acting more like a murderous lunatic. 

In true Caleb fashion, the zombie was turning the conversation around and pointing it at Wyatt, who dug the heel of his palm into one eye in response, again refusing to make eye contact. “Not sleepin’,” he answered simply, not wanting to stray too far from the subject at hand. 

—

“It didn’t need to jump to possessed. It just needed to be voiced.” Though that probably would have turned out bad. He could be mourning the man who was sitting across from him instead of arguing about who was to blame. That was a sobering thought, one that almost made him grateful that Wyatt didn’t think to question his actions. More confusion to add to his tornado of thoughts. Caleb sighed, the anger subsiding. What was done was done, there was no going back and he wasn’t innocent in anything. Besides, the way that the other was acting was concerning in itself. Despite it all he still wanted to know why Wyatt wouldn’t meet his own wavering gaze and what he was trying to tell Caleb. “You thought what?”

Why not? Why couldn’t he tell his friend who was responsible for almost killing him? Caleb didn’t have Wyatt’s loyalty anymore, didn’t deserve to have any loyalty over Charlie’s, so he couldn’t understand why the man wasn’t picking up his phone that very instant. “Fine, point me in his direction. I’ll tell him. Or just show up. I’m sure as soon as he sees my face he’ll come at me.” And Caleb would once again fight it. As much as he claimed he deserved what was coming to him he was still the coward he’d always been.

Something began to click. Wyatt’s response bringing back that moment when Aesil refused him and asked to lay down instead. There was something more to this but he obviously didn’t want to get into it which Caleb would…mostly respect. “Is that why you left that day? You didn’t want to sleep?”

—

“... there’s a lot about me that you don’t know,” Wyatt responded in a low voice. “I know you’re upset I didn’t recognize a change in you, but I… what I saw was someone who might’ve… someone who I could have been more honest with. I was bein’ selfish. The whole time we were… together, I was bein’ selfish. And I was lyin’ by omission.” He finished off the two fingers of bourbon, eyes fixed on the glass as he set back down slowly on the table. “No. He needs talkin’ down, first. You show up and he’s just gonna get himself hurt.” 

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Wyatt looked around them as if the right answer that would get him out of talking about this could be plucked from the air itself. “Yeah. That’s why I left. Was on a real bender of tryin’ to stay awake. Quiet night in with the boyfriend didn’t really fit the bill.” Something about that phrasing made him feel self conscious and he started to fidget with his glass again before pulling out his phone to check the time. Chrissakes, it’d only been fifteen minutes. He didn’t even have the luxury of getting himself out of this conversation by saying he had to go, yet. 

—

This time Caleb kept his stare directed at Wyatt, the realization of his words sinking deep and cutting him even deeper. “Why did you think you couldn’t be honest with me?” He couldn’t recall ever giving the impression that Wyatt could tell him anything he wouldn’t accept but he was sure the other had his reasons. Thinking back on everything Caleb did know about him, how he’d reacted when he’d found out, there was the possibility that judgment had slipped in. But he hadn’t cared, he still didn’t. He had no desire to force anything that Wyatt didn’t want to tell him. But he did want Wyatt to want to tell him. “It’s not like I’ve told you everything about myself. The things I’ve done…” The way his voice had sounded so haunted cut the thought short, Caleb suddenly wishing he had a drink sitting in front of him. His eyes flicked up, a flash of hurt behind them. “I wouldn’t…he would be safe.”

‘Quiet night in with the boyfriend didn’t really fit the bill.’ Out of everything Wyatt had said to him that night, that had hurt the most. For months Caleb hadn’t known what they were to each other and it turned out the zombie had lost more than he’d thought. There was a breath of sardonic laughter but he chose to focus on the other part of this, refusing to open that door. Not right now. “Any particular reason why you’re having trouble sleeping?” He watched his ex pick up the phone, feeling defeated yet relieved at the same time. This was just as uncomfortable for Wyatt as it was for him. “I’m not forcing you to stay, you know? My kidnapping days are over.”

—

Caleb made it sound like he had his own laundry list of Horrors, which Wyatt could have guessed existed based on the simple fact that he needed to eat human brains to survive, but… surviving was one thing, wasn't it? Wyatt was another class of predator, doing it for fun as much as he did it for food. The moment someone pissed him off, they were liable to be eaten, even if he wasn't hungry. How was he supposed to tell Caleb that? Of course he didn't know about the times that Caleb hadn't exactly been upset about the demon's actions—he couldn't know. He didn't even believe that the demon was real. 

All he could do was shake his head, unwilling to accept that they could be anything alike, which meant that he'd fallen even farther than he thought. Farther than he'd needed to, far enough that he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his mother would hate him. It's why he never included his return address on the envelopes of money he sent to her. Which he hadn't been able to send in a couple months… he hoped it wouldn't inspire her to come looking for him. Anyway. His thoughts were getting off topic. 

To the comment about Charlie, which of course he'd made sound worse than he'd meant— “Got nothin’ to do with what you would or wouldn't do. Captain Wow is plenty good at causin’ harm to himself, especially when he's pissed.” He put the phone back in his jacket pocket, throwing a wistful glance toward the bar. “Still… I don't.. I don't wanna end this until I know what the fuck needs to happen.” Caleb had already offered a suggestion. “That doesn't involve you showin’ up at his house.” Another sigh. He was fully ignoring the questions about his sleep issues, “When you… when you say demon, you don't mean literally, right? Like–what was it really? Some kind of supernatural critter?”

—

He could see Wyatt lost in thought, the zombie keeping his mouth shut to let the man work out whatever he needed at that moment. It wasn’t his place to push, not during this conversation at least. The least Caleb could do was allow him to work through it all. The comment about Charlie had him nodding and Caleb almost wanted to smile because he knew exactly what Wyatt was talking about. But he refrained, thinking a smile would make this so much worse than it already was. He couldn’t resist the words though. “I believe that…he didn’t exactly scream self preservation when he met me that night.” The man’s anger had taken over, drawn him closer to Aesil, and Caleb’s eyes glossed over a little as the images came to mind. He hated sharing these memories. He almost thought it would have been better had he been left completely in the dark. 

He sighed softly as Wyatt skipped over his question entirely though he should have expected that he would be less than forthcoming. This wasn’t a reconnection, it was a confrontation. Tapping a finger on the table in front of him, he shook his head gently while he closed his eyes at the question. “Can you think of a moment when I’ve ever lied to you? Excluding when I saw you last.” 

Technically he hadn’t brought up being a zombie when they first met but who would have come right out and said that? As soon as the secrets were out Caleb had not once said anything untruthful to him. “It was a demon, Wyatt. A demon intent on raising an even greater demon. They were tracking ingredients down for a ritual to bring along Andras, who apparently wants to destroy the human race. Charlie stumbled upon Aesil killing someone for one of those ingredients and he got caught up in it all.” Thankfully Charlie had survived much to Aesil’s disgust. “Luckily, as they were performing this ritual, a…friend of mine brought in an exorcist and a priest.” It sounded like it was straight from a movie plot. “If you don’t believe me I can point you in the direction of who was there that night…including the guy who almost bled to death as a sacrifice.”

—

Caleb was right. He hadn’t ever lied to Wyatt, once their shit was out in the open. And as for the secrets that were being hinted at, well… they both had those. He couldn’t judge Caleb for keeping them, if he was giving himself the forgiveness to have kept his own. So besides all that, Caleb had always been honest with him, in his way. But more than that was the slow realization that whatever this had been that had altered Caleb’s behavior, something he was calling a demon, it… it wasn’t his fault. And hadn’t Wyatt experienced something similar recently? He’d had an episode of panic, of rageful fear, during which he was no longer present in his own mind. He’d killed his friend. The same thing that kept him up at night right now was the bridge between their shared experiences. His wasn’t a demon, it wasn’t something piggybacking on his grief, but it came from within. Wasn’t that worse? This hadn’t been Caleb at all, if his story was to be believed.

Wyatt suddenly felt very upset. “... I know. You… you wouldn’t lie to me,” he stammered, feeling his throat constrict. He wasn’t sure what exactly was causing this reaction: it could have been empathy, self-pity, hopelessness, fear for the other’s well-being… or any combination of the above. “I believe you.” He still didn’t understand the ‘demon’ of it all, but he was willing to accept that Caleb wasn’t lying. He had to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he’d be fucking devastated if anyone labeled him as a monster for killing his friend when he wasn’t in control of himself. If you want that grace for yourself, you have to give it to others, he could hear his mother saying. It was a lesson she’d spent years drilling into him, and he’d nearly forgotten it in the last few months. 

“I’ll… talk to him. I’ll make him understand. You shouldn’t be payin’ for what happened to you, you’ve… you’ve paid enough already.” He looked grief-stricken, unsure of what to do next. “I’m sorry.” The only thing he could think to do was what he would have wanted, were he in Caleb’s position. It was all he’d wanted after he’d woken up in that cage, and being denied it had made the pain indescribably worse. It might not be what Caleb wanted, but he’d find that out the hard way. 

Wyatt got up, standing at the end of the table and motioning for Caleb to do the same. When the other joined him there, probably confused about what was going to happen, Wyatt pulled him into a tight, familiar hug. “There more people that need convincin’? I can be pretty persuasive,” he offered, signing himself up to act as a diplomat on Caleb’s behalf. His methods might be questionable sometimes, but he’d do his best to not get the man into any more trouble.

—

It seemed that something Caleb had said had finally gotten through to the other man but the zombie hadn’t quite expected him to look so…broken. If it wasn’t clear that something else was going on with him before it certainly was now as he took in the catch in Wyatt’s words and the way he deflated with the loss of his fight. That aggression towards Caleb, had it been keeping him afloat through this whole thing? Relief should have flooded him when Wyatt finally stated that he believed but it was anything but that took over everything inside of him. Where Caleb should have been grateful that someone he cared for was willing to see the truth he only felt dejected. It wasn’t a truth he liked to share with anyone but a puzzle piece was a puzzle piece. It wouldn’t have been fair to anyone involved to leave that missing part of it out.

Still, worry for Wyatt was starting to become his focal point. He wanted so badly to reach out and take the other’s hand in his, to let him know that he still cared about him, but he felt that would have been pushing things too quickly. Caleb had just gotten acceptance back, there was no need to rush to affection. “Thank you.” He couldn’t even be sure if Wyatt had heard him over the noise of the bar but the words hung there between them where they belonged. 

“You don’t- you shouldn’t do that. This is my mess, I need to clean it up.” Though it did feel good to have the offer, he felt he hadn’t paid enough. The zombie should be paying in his blood but instead people were getting frightened, hurried words, apologies laced with excuses which made them feel like they weren’t apologies at all. There was so, so much to clean up, so much that Caleb had been avoiding. It almost felt surreal that this one thing had been talked through, surreal to have some sort of resolution here in the darkness of it all. 

He looked up at Wyatt, confusion flooding him as the man gestured for him to get out of his seat as well. Maybe it wasn’t resolved after all? He obeyed though, feeling that whatever was coming was just what would come. Arms wrapping around him was the last thing he’d expected. His body flinched involuntarily, Caleb no longer used to someone else’s touch. He hadn’t let anyone close enough to him. For a moment he just stood there with his arms by his side, holding a breath of air in for far too long, but after his brain had caught up with what was going on his arms wrapped around Wyatt in a loose embrace. There was something about the way that Wyatt was holding him though and somewhere deep down Caleb felt like the lamia needed this just as much as he had. “It’s okay.” His arms tightened around him, the zombie not sure whether he was answering Wyatt or trying to ease whatever troubles were plaguing the gator. “Like I said,” He pulled away as he continued. “It’s my mess, you know?”

—

It’s said that a twenty second hug releases enough oxytocin to help a person destress and promotes a more positive attitude. This was a random fact that Wyatt had overheard someone talking about in a cafe once, and thought about often. Twenty second hug, six second kiss. Well, he couldn’t exactly go for the latter, but the former was already well underway as he remembered this little fun fact and wondered how many seconds he’d been hugging Caleb for already. Didn’t feel like a lot. Maybe five. Six. Seven—

He couldn’t make it. Pulling back at the same time Caleb did, the fighter felt like he was hanging on by a thread. All the good things in his life dangled from strings, and this was one of them. This moment, this opportunity to share and understand and maybe (hopefully) find acceptance. “Can we… go back outside?” he asked, much more soft spoken than Caleb had likely ever heard him. He’d not opened a tab and had already paid for his drink, so no one would be chasing them down. When the zombie agreed, Wyatt led them back through the door to the street, turning sharply onto the next street where there was less foot traffic. 

“It’s not your mess,” he argued once they were well enough alone, wheeling around to face Caleb again. “It’s… it’s that thing’s mess. You don’t gotta do this alone, Caleb. You don’t. I want to help, I want to be—” Useful. Worth someone’s time. “ —able to make up for my mistakes. I fucked you over, I know I did. I was shitty. I was… near the end, I wasn’t really…” He dragged a hand over his face, shaking his head and glancing up toward the sky. “I wanna be honest with you. I want you to know who… who I really am. And if you can’t deal with that guy, that’s fine. But that’s your choice.” Huffing out a breath, he finally looked back to the man. “For starters, I lost my job at the restaurant on account of the sleep shit. But that’s—that was never my only job.” He bit his lip. “I been moonlightin’ as a fighter. Supernatural fights, mind. Against other shifters, undead, beasts… whatever they can shove in the ring, really. But it’s not just that, Caleb. I’m… I like it.” Or he had. Some part of him still did. “But I fucked up recently, got in trouble with the boss… they been workin’ me like hell. S’why I look like such shit.” There was another pause. “Also I lied to you. I told you I didn’t make a habit of eatin’ my neighbors, but I fuckin’ have been, man. I’ve been terrorizin’ people in this town, usually just cuz they said some stupid shit that pissed me off. I’ve never had a great handle on my temper but it’s bad these days. I ain’t been a very good person for a while now.” He was rambling. He was saying so, so much and not giving Caleb any time to respond. So he shut up, folding his arms defensively across his chest, ready to… he didn’t know. Get torn a new one? Somehow that didn’t strike him as the kind of thing Caleb would do, but he might look at Wyatt with disappointment, and honestly? That would suck a lot more than anger.

—

He stopped short when Wyatt turned to face him again once they were in a more secluded area, Caleb swallowing back that tiny part of him that wanted to be afraid of the sudden movement. He didn’t fear the other, far from it if the slight tug of longing was any indication, but his body reacted on instinct. Years of it told him not to let Wyatt close when he was in such a state, learned behavior kicking in, but the man’s words seemed to ease the tension in his body enough for him to not back away. 

God, he felt like an idiot as his eyes started to water. ‘You don’t gotta do this alone, Caleb.’ A heaviness in his chest started to lighten, some of the guilt from everything he…Aesil…he had done started to ebb just enough to consider taking Wyatt up on the offer of his help only to crash back into him as the other started to put himself down. Caleb had argued that the lamia had been in the wrong and, maybe he had been, but he was at fault too in his own ways. “It wasn’t like I was perfect.” He mumbled, not sure if Wyatt even heard him through the distress taking over. Instead of backing away like instinct was once again telling him to do, he wanted to reach out and press a comforting hand to Wyatt’s cheek, maybe try to bring him back from whatever was going on in his mind. He resisted.

The onslaught of truths took him by surprise. It wasn’t even the confessions that had shocked him but the fact that Wyatt was giving them to him so freely. Okay, maybe the confessions did shock him a little. There was so much going on that he hadn’t been aware of and he wondered how long the lamia had been going through all of this, if he had missed the signs himself. Fuck, he was a hypocrite, wasn’t he? 

If it was anyone else telling him this Caleb would have been recoiling. He would have made an excuse to leave and try to never see Wyatt again because the fear would drive him to stay away. But it wasn’t anyone else. The zombie knew this man intimately, maybe not as well as he’d thought, but well enough. He could focus on the way that Wyatt liked his fighting or the way he terrorized people for petty reasons but instead he kept thinking of the way the man would go out of his way to make Caleb feel as confident as possible. It was nights like their first date that kept popping into his mind, days fighting deranged snowmen together, and that night in the cemetery when Wyatt could have left everyone else to fight that crystal monster but helped instead. He might not see the good in himself, but Caleb could see it.

His lips curled up into a soft smile and he finally just told himself ‘fuck it.’ He moved towards Wyatt, placing his hand exactly where he wanted to before, his thumb brushing over the dark purple under his eyes. “Liking things you shouldn’t…you’re not alone in that. I think we’re both more messed up than the other realized, honestly.” He let out a small, humorless laugh. “I don’t think you’re a bad person even with everything you just told me, at least not completely. And if you are, I don't really care. I still care about you. I don’t have to agree with everything you do to feel that way.”

—

Where he’d anticipated anger or disappointment or fear, there was only compassion. Suddenly the contrast between their differing heights and personalities felt correct rather than almost comical: the shorter of them always having been the larger presence in the past, dominant in every way he thought mattered. But now, chin lifted ever so slightly up to meet Caleb’s gaze, Wyatt felt smaller. He couldn’t quite articulate what he was feeling as Caleb’s hand found his face, heavy eyelids fluttering at the contact, his body feeling weak. Was it a reaction to having poured himself out on the pavement? Was it just the sleep deprivation? The reason didn’t really matter, did it? It didn’t matter.

Wyatt let out a soft sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, grasping Caleb’s wrist gently with one hand, the other brushing across his neck before settling on his shoulder. Finding the right words was hard, so at first he just nodded and let the closeness of their bodies speak for itself. Something he was certain he’d lost had come back to him, had found him at one of his lowest points, and was telling him it was okay. That he was still cared for, that the bad things… could be overlooked. Maybe only because Caleb had his own laundry list of regrets that could label him as a bad person, but what else was there? What else did people like them have if not each other? It wasn’t picture perfect, but life so rarely was… even the situation Wyatt found himself in now was far from it—he was letting himself be doted on by a couple, inserting himself into what they had and bringing with him a mess of baggage that one of them wasn’t even aware of yet. It wasn’t right, but he never did things right, did he? 

There wasn’t much thought given to the future, the shifter much more interested in simply remaining in this moment. “Yeah… think we might both be kinda fucked up,” he agreed. “What you went through… whatever happened, whatever you’re carryin’ with you like a weight… I don’t care about it, either.” His gaze searched Caleb’s face, cautious optimism flickering in his eyes like a hopeful flame that’d nearly been completely snuffed out. “I just care ‘bout you.” He sucked in a breath, that flame dimming again. “And I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” For many things that probably didn’t need to be listed out like a confessional, but he hoped Caleb could ascribe this apology to them all. Because he meant it, deeply and in a way that hurt and healed at the same time. “I shoulda been there. I’m sorry.” 

—

Without thinking, Caleb’s free hand went up to hold Wyatt’s as it rested on his shoulder. He didn’t want to speak and break whatever the man’s thought process was at that moment, he just wanted to allow Wyatt the time that he needed. So, he stayed silent until the other finally spoke, his lips lifting at the corners with a nod of his head at the confirmation. The rest of the lamia’s words seemed to drown out everything that had been going through his mind for the past couple of weeks. He felt lighter again, as if the only thing that mattered was Wyatt’s approval and everything else could fall to the wayside for now as long as he had that. 

Still, his mind wanted to doubt those words. It was telling him to toss them away and never believe that anyone could know the atrocious acts his hands had committed and still care about him. For once, though, he decided to fight against it and accept what Wyatt was telling him. He needed to accept it as truth or the battle to move on from Aesil would be so much harder. It would be hard to admit the actions out loud but Wyatt had given Caleb a rare glimpse into his own misdeeds so the zombie figured he needed to do the same and see how it went in the end. For right now though, he was more than willing to focus on the other man and the feelings that were causing him so much turmoil. His own confessions would come later if they were willing to stay in each other's lives.

Giving a soft shake of his head at Wyatt’s apologies, Caleb dared to move even closer to press his forehead against the lamias. “I should have been there too.” It was so obvious that he had been missing so much in this man’s life now. It should have been obvious before but with his issues of feeling inadequate and like he was a bother it always held him back from further questioning the ones he cared about. “I shouldn’t have even said what I said, you had no way of knowing. I was just…angry and hurt. Not even because of you. But I should have been there too.” His eyes closed, feeling a new regret starting to sink in to mix with everything else. “It doesn’t matter now, we can be there from now on. In whatever way you need.”

—

Of course he was angry and hurt. Without knowing Wyatt’s situation, anyone would have been. The fighter wanted to say it was okay, that it didn’t matter and that Caleb wasn’t wrong for it, but there wasn’t any time before the zombie was falling back into his personal space in a way that he hadn’t for months now. It calmed the storm that was brewing in his head and chest, soothed the anxiety that had bloomed rapidly as he’d bared himself to the man in ways that still made him deeply uncomfortable. He let out a soft sigh, closing his eyes and releasing Caleb’s wrist to instead circle that arm around his waist. “I’d like that,” he admitted in a strained voice, but a smile still managed to form in spite of the ache. “I’d like that a lot.” There were still things they needed to talk about… aspects of his life he needed to make clear. The nightmares, and how he’d found out why they were happening. Mateo, the source of that knowledge, and a source of comfort in his darker moments. Xóchitl, wrapped up between them and just as complicated as everything else in his life… Kieran, who was… well, he didn’t know what. Not really a friend, not really a lover. A provider of the happiness that had been slowly slipping away from him little by little. All these things needed to be talked about, because he had to tell someone the whole truth, didn’t he? Not one single person in his life knew everything he was going through, but maybe if he could share it all with Caleb, then Caleb could share it all with him. They could be there for each other, like the zombie had said. They could. They would. 

He didn’t open his eyes again as his head was angled slightly up, relinquishing the contact of their foreheads in favor of their lips. It was gentle, but not hesitant. Careful without being cautious. Loving, one could say. One could, but one would be hard pressed to use such language in a moment as pivotal as this. Better not to weigh themselves down with that baggage, not before they’d had the chance to really talk. Because there was still the matter of getting to work to consider — a thought that popped into Wyatt’s head and had him groaning softly against the other’s mouth. Just… a few more seconds. Four… five… six. 

“Fuck… I probably gotta get goin’...” he lamented, much preferring the idea of spending the rest of the night in this familiar embrace. He pulled back, looking at Caleb for a moment before offering another genuine smile. “Sorry, cher… I do want to pick this back up again, though… soon as we can…”

—

He wanted to say something else, to make promises that he vowed to keep, to let Wyatt know that he wasn’t going to be alone in any of this anymore but before he could he felt the other’s lips press against his own. Caleb’s heart seized with that simple gesture. After everything he’d done, after the way this conversation had started, forgiveness from the lamia had been in the far reaches of his desires. He’d believed it unattainable but now the man was kissing him in the middle of a secluded alley after he’d spilled the most intimate things about his life to Caleb leaving an ache in the zombie’s chest. He’d sought the punishment he thought he deserved but he was now getting the exact opposite, the guilt doubling with every second he allowed himself to savor the moment. It wasn’t enough to make him want to stop, though.

He almost allowed himself to follow the man’s lips with his own as Wyatt pulled away, not wanting to lose that closeness. But Caleb resisted his wants once again, this time allowing that familiar emptiness to spread. That felt normal. It felt right. The guilt started to ebb, not completely gone but dulled as that feeling took its place and he realized he shouldn’t have allowed that kiss to happen. Aesil wasn’t completely gone, they were still out in whatever void they came from, so there was no guarantee that anyone close to him was completely safe…right? 

Wyatt’s voice cut through his racing thoughts, eyes opening as Caleb softly nodded his head. “Work, right?” Suddenly, something else entirely started to grip him. He’d been so worried about what being close to him would do to Wyatt that he’d forgotten the danger that Wyatt was getting himself into. He wasn’t going to try to stop him as much as he would rather the man stay away from the fighting but he did want it known that he cared. “....I just got you back in my life. Please be careful so that we can pick this back up soon.” He left it at that as he lightly kissed the other once more and then stepped away, hands going back to his pockets. “I really will call you this time.” Not wanting to keep him from work, especially knowing that they were already upset with him, his gaze lingered for only a moment before he turned and made his way back to his truck.

[sleepyyghostt]

sylvester lycidas is someone who will Take matters into his own hands

[reiremington]

location: fire station with: @caleb-lycaon

When getting back into town, he knew he had to get a job sooner rather than later. He only had so much savings that he could coast on before he would need income, and he wasn't about to go looking for help from his family. It seemed like a no-brainer to call the fire station, especially when he'd spent the last several years fighting fires in another city. Rei could only hope he wouldn't see anyone who recognised him on the way.

To his surprise, when he arrived at the fire station, there was a face he was actually happy to see. "You wouldn't happen to know if there's a job opening here, would you?"

[nellasbookplanet]

Actually loving how the different critical role campaigns exist in relation to themselves, each other, and the world at large, and how their different narrative structures ripple outward.

Campaign 1 was story driven. Not to say the characters weren’t deeply important and dynamic, but their growths were largely driven through and by the plot. They were on a mission and grew along with that mission, and as a mission driven archetypically heroic party they also left very few loose threads by the end.

Campaign 2, meanwhile, was more insular and character driven. Where Vox Machina traveled all over the world and planes outside the main setting of Tal'Dorei, the Mighty Nein largely stayed in Wildemount, allowing for a more intimate and political look at it’s cultures. Instead of story and characters revolving around plot, plot revolves around character. We only got to see Yasha’s tribe in the epilogue, because her growth didn’t require facing them. We didn’t face Uk’otoa, because Fjord’s arc culminated in embracing the Wildmother, not in facing his former patron. Similarly, while the entire Assembly was an antagonistic force, only Trent was dealt with directly, because he was the only one directly tied into one of the pc's arcs.

The larger world building let us know about Molaesmyr and Ludinus, about the Luxon, even about Ruidus to some extent, but the Mighty Nein weren’t a typically heroic party here to save the world and solve every mystery, but a group of broken people finding it in themselves to heal, and to end their journey ready to face greater threats in the future. They were still getting the Assembly and Uk'toa, they just weren’t doing it in the main narrative, because they were irrelevant to the growth of the characters. Of course, that also left a lot of threads hanging, which brings us to campaign 3.

By now, it seems pretty clear that campaign 3 is another plot driven story rather than the more meandering, character driven narrative of c2. That leaves the cast free to pick up on the many larger mysteries in world building left in the wake of the last campaign. What is the nature of the Luxon? Of Ruidus? Of Aeor and the aeormatons? Half the party was just plopped down not far from the ruins of Molaesmyr, Ludinus' former home - will they go there? One of them is tied to the Luxon and dunamancy, another to Ruidus and Predathos - will we get to know the true nature of these entities?

Much like c1, the characters of this campaign are driven and shaped by events rather than shaping their own events. The difference is, c1 began as a blank slate, whereas c3 has history. Powerful allies and enemies alike are tied to former campaigns because such is the nature of the world. Mysteries left to solve were introduced earlier but approached only now because this is a campaign whose narrative and characters are served by approaching them. The world is dynamic. Alive. One story merges into the next, and new heroes are born on the shoulders of the last, ready to be shaped by their own narrative.

[the-cosmos-withinus]

Shadow Puppets AU - Just some sillies