#cad & essek

[sky-scribbles]

I'm very emotional about Essek quoting Caduceus, because Caduceus said that to Trent. Essek was very much not there. Which means that Cad has said that to Essek on some completely separate occasion! Maybe a moment in the Blooming Grove, Essek quietly gardening, telling Caduceus that he's been so content, lately. And he can't help but feel guilty for that.

And Cad just putting a hand on his shoulder and telling him it's okay. Carrying the pain constantly isn't going to make him any better or more moral. Pain doesn't make people. Love makes people.

[towards-toramunda]

Every member of the mighty nein has hair long enough to braid and that’s very important to me. They should have a braid train while getting ready for the fjorester wedding. Edit: never mind Kingsley had short hair the last time we saw them so they can be the end of the train.

[sea-buns]

Been wondering how Essek has been doing without teleport in the wake of the Apogee Solstice, but we all know that man is teleporting anyway. Dude is collapsing on arrival from the amount of times he’s had to recast to get where he wanted to go cuz he’d rather take on the damage and extreme risk of death than admit that he’s been bested by Ludinus and his pet rock-god.

The image of him continuously appearing in front of the Nein with blood streaming out of every hole in his face. And Caleb’s just like,

“Uh,,, heyy Schatz maybe we should stop using that spell? Especially when you are traveling alone–”

“Not to worry Caleb, everything is under control. Probability is my specialty, and as such, I can assure you I have already devised a method that greatly reduces the risk of incurring any severe repercussions.“

*he says knowing full well he’s been wasting an obscene amount of Fortune’s Favors just to vaguely get here within an inch of his life*

[thecritterinyourwall]

As someone who hasn’t watched campaign 3 but is still deeply in the trenches for the mighty nein, I am absolutely scrambling to figure out what’s happening in bells hells rn.

All I know is that hot boi is back, astrid is in a smut shop and pumat is having an existential breakdown

And I’m insane and delighted about all of this

[artiquar]

The first part of some class swap ideas I had — Dunamancy cleric Essek and Somnovem warlock Molly! Essek's healing revolves around reversing time on specific wounds so they never happened in the first place. And Molly's patron is a combination of Lucien and the Somnovem, and he leans heavily into spells like dissonant whispers.

[gilmores-glorious-blog]

dariax canonically acespec!!!!!!!!!!!!

[c-kiddo]

watching the part people told me abt of ep102 with chet confronting ludinus about molaesmyr and after hearing him talk about it i do think caduceus should be able to beat ludinus to death with a rock

[merlevum]

[glossolali]

They are together once more– celebrating, drinking, laughing as if they had not been recently apart for the last six months.

Fjord and Jester just announced that they're engaged to be married in the next year. 

He is of course, incredibly happy for them, but he can't help the sinking feeling in his chest, especially when his eyes land on Essek, who smiles fondly at Jester's beaming, proud little face.

He's making him wait for so long, and it's been six months, but not yet. He's not ready. There's still so much left to fix– in the world, and in himself.

He lays a hand gently on top of Essek's when he gets the chance next, and he doesn't know how to say 'Thank you' and 'I've missed you' and 'I wish much for us' so all that comes out is:

"I'm sorry."

Essek, perplexed, says quietly between them, "For what?"

He feels a sad smile grow on his lips and his words leave him again, so he shakes his head and says, "Later."

Soft violet eyes meet his searchingly, then Essek nods, smiles kind and warm, then squeezes his hand and moves on.

When Caleb looks away, he sees Caduceus approaching to put down a bowl of stew in front of him, then sits next to him with his own and hums thoughtfully.

"Do you remember the green beans?"

"Ah– ja, ja– of course." His voice comes out far more timid than he'd intended.

"We are planted, and so we have to grow. But each plant grows differently, some fast, some slow, some tall or short. Some grow in the fall, and some in spring."

Caleb swallows the spoonful of food in his mouth and it goes down past the lump in his throat.

He didn't realize he was so easy to read.

Then again, it's Caduceus.

"You are not slow or out of time, Caleb. You are growing exactly as you are meant to."

Dammit.

He feels his eyes well up quick, and a traitorous tear rolls off his lashes and into his lap when he blinks to look away, embarrassed.

Caduceus' large, warm hand lands on his shoulder.

"Th– thank you, Herr Clay."

–

[on AO3]

[hello-eeveev]

For the ask game:

All the boys in the mighty nein... are doing what? 👀👀

They are being ace-spec! Caduceus and Essek are canonically on the asexual spectrum, and I have loooong since headcanoned Fjord as demisexual and Caleb as grey ace! (Like, since the pirate arc for Fjord, Caleb since… idk forever I guess. He just gave me vibes periodically throughout the whole campaign.)

“All the boys in the mighty nein are aspec” is a little song I sing to myself sometimes (to the tune of “camptown races”) so that’s where the “title” comes from!

This what written around the same time as On the Nature of Attraction and tbh there hasn’t been much thought put into this idea outside of there being a discussion about asexuality and this little exchange:

“So we know that Caduceus isn’t interested at all and Fjord needs to feel comfortable with someone first, and now you two…” Jester looked between Caleb and Essek.

“Ah, no thank you,” Essek said.

Caleb shrugged. “Largely neutral.”

She gasped. “So that means all the boys in the—wait!” She turned to Kingsley, who was relaxing near the hot spring some fifty feet away. “Kingsley! How boy are you feeling today?”

Kingsley looked to Jester, then off to the side as they considered it. “Eh?” they called back, hand wobbling back and forth in a so-so gesture.

Jester slammed her hands on the ground and leaned close into Caleb and Essek’s personal space. “All the boys in the Mighty Nein are aspec*! That’s so cool!”

“Is it?” Essek asked.

“Of course! Especially because in all my books, all of the guys are so horny. Like, all the time. It’s cool to know that that’s not always true!”

*figuring out the language to use here is difficult because the word ‘aspec’ feels so out of place with the language typically used in critical role? What do???

So yeah. Just boys being ace-spec :) just guys being pals on the ace spectrum :)

[blazingstar24]

Like oh what do you mean Team Wildemount who found and clung to love to keep going during the split are the ones keeping the team afloat?

What do you mean Team Issylra who experienced deep pain and trauma and had to cling to their rage to keep going during the split are the ones to fall apart?

It’s like u know….pain and rage can only sustain you for so long. Almost like it’s love that makes people.

[nellasbookplanet]

Jester and Fjord both have little to no interest in or knowledge of politics or current events, I feel like they'd be better at general life advice and like, How To Stay Alive and How To Balance Adventuring With Family/Business/Other Goal advice

Caleb would give solid advice and probably has a lot of contacts to share because of his connections in the academy and cobalt soul, but I also feel like he'd either be very busy fighting corruption, doing research, and grading papers, or he'd be retired, in which case Let Him Rest

Caducues is so isolated from the general goings on of Exandria and generally doesn't know or doesn't care about all that, he would be so bad at this job. Would probably give pretty good spiritual advice and general life advice, though

Beau and Yasha strike me as having the same vibe of Allura and Kima in c2: Beau has so many connections (access to cobalt soul archives and teleportation circles!) and so much knowledge and general problem solving abilities to share, and meanwhile Yasha would be there like "I don’t know about all this but I could come with you and help fight your big bad or lend you this neat sword"

Essek would be a solid choice largely because he's already been an adventurer mentor of sorts to the nein, he knows the ropes and he has a lot of knowledge on both the political and the arcane to share, but he’s also a hunted man and would probably be hard to get ahold of and no longer have access to connections (other than the nein and the nein's future descendants) and resources to share

Veth, like Essek, is already a mentor of sorts! She runs a baby adventurer summer camp! She, like Fjord and Jester, has so much advice to give on how to balance family life with adventuring! She has a decent grasp of current events even if she doesn’t care all that much, and her closeness to Caleb probably gives her access to a lot of empire connections

Kingsley would be less of an Allura and more of a Gentleman, I suspect. He has Molly’s deep caring but Lucien's saviness and hunger for power. As the Plank King he would have access to information and items and connections gallore, and as someone who was himself brought into this world by adventurers he'd probably be happy to help future parties, even if he would be a dick about it. Also it would be very funny.

[aeoris4lovers]

(click here to read on ao3)

When all is said and done, when Trent is locked away and their stories are told and there is nothing left of their old lives that must be turned over to the world and Caleb and Astrid are finally settling into the newer pockets of their lives, Eadwulf runs.

He leaves Astrid in the misty grey hours of early morning as she sleeps soundly, her face settled into a content kind of faint smile that so rarely graces it at any other time. There are no goodbyes on that morning, no confession of where he might be going or plans for when to meet again. There is only the ghost of a kiss on a temple, so soft it can hardly be called a true touch at all, and an apology deep in his bones that he can’t risk saying aloud.

Before he goes, he makes breakfast for her. He covers the table in a spread of fruits and eggs and toast, leaves fresh coffee in a pot, all of it magically kept warm until she wakes and finds it. There are only so many comforts he can deny her at once.

He writes a note for her, too, and props against the coffee pot. It’s short — just enough to reassure her of his safety — and carefully avoids using any of the code words that would alert her to some sort of danger.

The first step out the door is an amputation, rough and gorey and in the absence of any fire that might cauterize it, and he stumbles out onto the street in that familiar haze which accompanies, as always, the bearing of some unbearable pain. There can be no way forward for him with things as they are, grafted as he has been for so long to her stronger trunk and left to grow only as she does, but the necessity of the action leaves him no less an open wound.

Lost in that fog clouding his mind, hardly present at all in his own skin, he finds himself not long after at the outskirts of a familiar graveyard. He doesn’t remember deciding to go there, doesn’t remember wanting to, certainly doesn’t remember the process of casting a spell to close the distance — but there he is nonetheless, and as he takes stock of his surroundings, he hears the unmistakable croak of a raven ring out from a nearby tree.

There should be no warmth for him in this place, really; nothing but barred doors and shuttered windows to greet him after what they had done to it. It’s still being rebuilt, still not yet a true temple again. What reason would these people have to welcome him?

But somehow, impossibly, they do.

Not without their hesitations, of course. No one in the family has forgotten their last meeting, least of all the familiar cleric who opens the door to answer Eadwulf’s clumsy knock. Immediately, the darkening of Caduceus’ face betrays his intention to shut the door again, but then he looks at Eadwulf with a gaze that seems to burn straight through his flesh and pierce his skull. Whatever Caduceus finds inside, it must be to his satisfaction because only a moment later, he opens the door wider and asks with a smile if Eadwulf would like a cup of tea.

And with Caduceus’ blessing, the rest of the family accepts him easily enough. They are clearly unsure of him at first, but he helps in the kitchen and volunteers to take on much of the heavy lifting for the repairs and doesn’t complain when the youngest Clay practically climbs him or excitedly shows him the strangest insect she found that day, and soon enough, his presence there almost starts to feel natural.

So, he stays a while. He helps where he can but does his best not to intrude on the family otherwise, quietly haunting the further reaches of the Grove and idly tending to the plants there until needed (or just invited) elsewhere. He leaves for a couple of days every once in a while, to be on his own and give them some space, but inevitably comes back when his business elsewhere is taken care of, usually with some small gifts for the Clays in hand. He stays for what must amount to quite a few months, judging by how his hair grows long enough to curl again and then even longer still, until it nearly brushes his shoulders. He loses track of the time easily in the secluded beauty of the Grove, though, and the changing of the seasons only rarely reminds him of its passing enough to worry that he might overstay his welcome.

Constance and Cornelius insist on making a place for him to sleep inside the house, but most nights he prefers to sleep under the stars, taking in the ever-present air of nature and divinity and gentle decay. When the nights grow colder and he conjures a dome for himself to keep warm, Clarabelle likes to follow him out and join him underneath it. Sometimes she approaches with blankets dragged behind her, to throw over the top of the dome and turn it into a magical blanket fort. Other times, if the sky is clear, she lays down next to him and they look up together, him occasionally pointing out a constellation to her and her connecting the stars into constellations of her own design.

One night, just as she steps out to join him, Colton emerges behind her and takes her arm, bending to whisper something in her ear. She stops for a moment, nodding slowly as she listens, but then brushes him off as though his words were utter nonsense and makes her way over, undeterred. Later that night, as the two of them lay beneath the stars, she props herself up on her elbow to face Eadwulf and says with a cheerful smile and a mischievous glint in her eye, “Colton says you’re dangerous, you know.”

The implications of the statement only momentarily take him aback. Of course Colton — and the others, no doubt — would still be wary of him, especially with Clarabelle getting so close without them around. Propping himself up to look her in the eye, he replies with a small nod and an affirmative hum, and she only smiles wider.

“Cool.” Then, she shrugs. “You seem nice to me, though.”

Hardly a second later, she’s leaping up and out of the dome to catch a passing firefly, and the matter doesn’t come up again.

As irresistible as Clarabelle’s strange kind of charm is, his greatest fascination is — and has been, ever since that dinner — with Caduceus. Caduceus, who looked Ikithon in the eye and spoke so ruthlessly and yet without a hint of venom in his voice, who got under the archmage’s skin in a way Eadwulf isn’t sure anyone had before and lived to tell the tale, who could be at once so fiercely protective of his friends and so unflinchingly at ease in the face of the one who hurt them. Countless times, Eadwulf asks him for advice on which tea to try or which flowers are okay to pick from or some other simple request, just as an excuse to strike up conversation and pick his brain about nearly anything. Caduceus’ advice and words of wisdom are the farthest things from a disappointment and his way of looking at life is so unfamiliar yet so full of steady conviction that it borders on intoxicating, but it’s his humor — sometimes intentional, oftentimes not — that Eadwulf finds himself seeking out the most.

Every so often, the tiefling comes to visit the Grove and have tea with Caduceus; the purple one, Kingsley. He always comes with an abundance of stories about his life on the high seas, and Eadwulf can’t help but be mesmerized by the theatrics of his retellings. One afternoon, Kingsley comes with a story about a battle against a demigod with the whole of the Mighty Nein there — with Caleb there — and for the first time, he listens unabashedly, not bothering to hide how he hangs onto every word of their adventures. The two of them share a tendency to steal away to the outskirts of the Grove when they need a moment to breathe, and they often find themselves crossing paths in those stretches of the gardens. On multiple occasions, during their talks out among the headstones, Kingsley takes note of Eadwulf’s interest in his tales and extends an offer to join his crew. On almost as many occasions, Eadwulf surprises himself with how seriously he considers accepting.

The drow, Essek, stops by from time to time as well. Their first meetings are more complicated; Essek is familiar on more than a few levels with the tendencies of the man Eadwulf once served, and was present to witness under no uncertain terms how Eadwulf had done his bidding. Eadwulf, in turn, knows precisely what roles Essek played, the subterfuge that served as the basis of his career and the betrayal he was capable of. They circle each other for some time, keeping their distance but making no secret of how closely they watch each other. His curiosity eventually gets the better of him, though, and he can’t help but take the opportunity to ask a few questions about the magic Essek wields. As it turns out, one of the quickest ways to Essek’s heart is through his mind, and he can’t seem to resist the temptation of a conversation about the technicalities of his craft.

The three of them turn out to be better and more comfortable companions than Eadwulf ever could have expected. They each understand, in their own way, the hectic confusion of being pulled so suddenly into a new life by the whirlwind that is the Mighty Nein, and Eadwulf soon realizes how desperately he needed someone to be able to tell him he isn’t just losing his mind in the midst of that chaos. Even aside from that, the trio is good company, each with their own kind of intelligence and wit and arsenal of ridiculous stories to share. Though he finds himself inexplicably nervous to admit it, they begin to feel more and more like true friends with each shared conversation. They are a strange group — the ex-assassin, the grave keeper, the pirate, and the fugitive — but the strangeness is far easier to let himself settle into than his attempts at normalcy ever had been. The best days are those when all four of them are there at once, each of them growing increasingly familiar with and invested in the lives of the others, and he comes to anticipate those rare occasions with an almost childlike excitement.

(Later on, after Eadwulf’s time living at the Blooming Grove comes to an end, Caleb will frequently and openly express his absolute bewilderment at how his ex-boyfriend, current boyfriend, crush, and friend became such close companions. They seem to all outside eyes to be an unlikely match, but if you ask Eadwulf, the Grove just has a way of bringing people together like that.)

And every day, without fail, a sending from Astrid prickles the back of his mind. He always answers, of course. He reassures her with each new morning of his safety, promises her that his absence is of his own free will and that he will be returning. The idea that he might ignore her for even a day is beyond unfathomable.

Even so, the ease with which he puts her messages out of his mind after responding catches him off guard. He thinks of her near constantly, as always, but the calm beauty of the Grove and the ease of the companionship found within it makes it strangely difficult to regret the separation. Even the deepest wounds, he supposes, must begin to clot. He only hopes hers has done the same.

In the many months he spends there, he never quite apologizes for what he did to the home the Clays are now so bafflingly willing to welcome him into. Not in so many words, at least. He only lends a hand where he can and tries as well as he knows how to bring, if anything, a bit more light to their home. And in truth, it feels as though the words are unnecessary. His words are too often clumsy when they hold that much weight; they would only cheapen the remorse.

Eventually, he does take his leave from the Blooming Grove. He leaves each of the Clays with a hug, a token of his gratitude made by hand, and a promise to come back and visit. It’s Clarabelle who hugs him the longest but Constance comes close, sending him off with all of the pleas to stay safe and other such fanfare that one might expect a mother to give her son.

(The question of why will never leave his mind, no matter how often or how long he turns it over in his mind. To allow him into their home was one thing, incomprehensible in itself, but to find any true care for him was another entirely. It must be like living in a different world, he thinks, to be nurtured by a place like that for your entire life. It must change you, make you different, make you kinder. He can find no other satisfactory explanation for how such people could come to exist at all.)

When he finally returns to Astrid’s house, he braces himself for the earful he knows is waiting for him there, but Astrid only throws her arms around him the moment she lays her eyes on him. For the rest of the night, she keeps him captive as she tells him everything that went on in his absence and demands the same from him, refusing to let him leave her sight for anything longer than a bathroom break. The next day, of course, she has far angrier words for him, and he takes them without a fight — he knows he deserves them, with the way he left her.

Later that month, when he receives the expected sending from Essek on Caleb’s behalf, he accepts the invitation and agrees to attend the Nein’s monthly get-together for the first time, as ready as he could ever be to face them all again. Astrid still declines the offer and he nearly changes his mind, lest he do any further damage by leaving her again even for a night, but to his surprise she all but pushes him out the door.

Caleb greets him at the tower’s entrance, looking him up and down and saying with a soft smile, “You look good.” It’s strange, hearing his own words reflected back at him. More than anything, it strikes him that he knows full well what sentiment underlies them:

You look healthy. You look cared for. You look like yourself. You look happy.

[ruvigapo]

When i say this singlehandedly rekindled my motivation to do animation, i am Not joking

I'm so hyped !! I want to draw smth fun to selebrate !!

[sadmages]

I need to not watch cr2 141 in the train on my way to school fucking crying in de stiltecoupe

[cringefaecompilation]

I always wondered how people can take the meta of this user serious, when 99% of the character meta is about characters they say they don't like and 1% is meta about "fave" characters......

it's so odd since they don't even seem to be having a good time. all they do is talk about how much imogen sucks and how she's going to turn evil and how much she hates the male* characters and makes fun of them for being traumatized (i've seen some "female characters only" cr fans do that, but not imogen herself) because they're still sour about fandom reaction to campaign 2. all of their complaints about imogen are just thinly veiled complaining about the fandom. they think drawing her with glasses is traumatizing to laura bailey because some jerks bullied her for her jester art choices. clearly the second campaign truck a chord with them and they have never gotten over it.

if you are angry about the fandom of something you liked tainting it for you and do not like the sequel... have you considered just... going into another series and leaving this one behind? maybe talk about stuff you actually like instead of complaining about the characters until the cast says things that you want to hear?

*and ashton and fcg. though i have not seen one single person who loves imogen hate on fcg myself, statistically i guess there'd have to be at least one.