#it’s a shadowgast fic so

[wormspoor]

Inspired by “do you have enough love in your heart, to go and get your hands dirty?”

[hemisphaericas]

[all-made-of-stardust]

i firmly choose to believe that the reason there weren't any cats in that house when Bells Hells bamfed in was because both Essek and Caleb are responsible cat parents and they both realized that their usual hierarchy of in-home catsitters (Beau & Yasha -> Jester & Fjord -> Veth, Yeza & Luc -> Caduceus) was depleted because they were all gonna busy with the liveshow shenanigans.

You know who wasn't busy? Kingsley.

You know who was next in that hierarchy? Definitely not Kingsley! (It was probably Dairon, but Dairon was busy running around the Cobalt Soul frantically)

So I love to imagine that the world is going to hell and there's at LEAST four cats in their house that need proper care and nobody is available to do it, so in a last ditch effort (because Mittens needs a special wet food diet and Krumel needs some medication and the others are simply too social to be left alone for too long) Essek phones up Kingsley and asks him.

Only for then, four days later, Essek stops into the house briefly to grab supplies and pauses halfway up the hall when he realizes that the cats are nowhere to be seen.

"Kingsley?" he Sends, trusting of his friend but not entirely sure of his character. "Where are the cats?"

"Oh, I had to go deal with a new trade deal by Port Damali!" Kingsley replies cheerfully. "Don't worry, the cats are with me!"

Essek pauses. Inhales deeply. This was the man he helped save, this was the man he mourned before a literal miracle of the gods brought him back.

"Kingsley," he Sends again, already bitter about the extra spell slot usage. "Are you at sea? Are you on a boat?"

"Yup!" comes the unadulterated happy reply. "The Captain's cabin is nice and roomy, and Krumel loves chasing down mice! Surprisingly helpful on a boat, cats! I might keep 'em!"

Essek physically restrains himself from wasting another spell slot on the tiefling. Instead, he touches the stone held in his palm.

"Caleb," he sighs. "I believe our cats were catnapped by Kingsley."

All he hears on the other end is a fit of laughter.

[folksong-weaver]

“They’re married” “they’re boyfriends” no no no, they have a weird, queer platonic, intellectually based mutual attraction going on with lots of strange flirting, oppressive guilt, unpaid debts, unconditional love, and the ever present tragedy of unequal lifespans.

[sea-buns]

Essek willingly leading a group of complete strangers down into Aeor, and trusting them with his true identity, AND telling them little factoids about him and his partner is already SO MUCH

But he also did it all KNOWING he'd likely encounter Ludinus for the first time since he gave up a beacon and became a traitor all those years ago. And, again, WITH TOTAL STRANGERS. FULLY absent of the comfort of his wonderful partner

I'm so proud our anxious hot boi look how far he's come ;-;

[augentrust]

The Bone That Has No Marrow

[find it on ao3 here]

Words: 28k | Rating: T | Shadowgast

One moment makes all the difference during the battle at Blumenthal. In the aftermath, the Nein grapple with what comes next.

Featuring:

✨ A twist on Echoes of the Solstice ✨ Mighty Nein-typical emotional regulation and processing ✨ Angst with a happy ending

Header Image: Page 187 of "The Half Hour Library of Travel, Nature and Science for young readers" (1896) courtesy of the British Library's online collection here

[alliekitaguchi]

so as of the current canon, essek and caleb have been together somewhere between 6.5-7 years because in the mighty nein reunited, it was six months after lucien and they were already kissing and together

i know liam said that eventually they separate but seeing essek “my partner” thelyss gush over caleb after nearly SEVEN YEARS of being together, i think more and more that they never separated at all because essek loves him too goddamn much to let him go

[the-kaedageist]

The inn is small and plain, the tables worn from years of patrons and the weight of beer steins. Essek touches his fingertips to the wood and thinks about how far his life has come. “Why are we here?” he asks after a long moment. Caleb looks up from where he had been spacing out, presumably lost in old memories as he glances around the room.

“Oh, ja,” he says, catching himself. “This is where we first met. The Mighty Nein, I mean.”

Essek’s eyes widen. The room takes on new hues, a history he hasn’t been able to read from the furniture and the beer spilt in the corner. He can see the ghosts of younger versions of his friends, set lightly upon this space like a memory - Jester laughing and carving a dick into one of the tables, Beau and Fjord drinking from steins and ribbing one another. Caleb sitting with Veth, who presumably would have been Nott then. Yasha by the bar, perhaps, with the infamous Mollymauk. They had started off with only seven, not having any idea that someday they would be the nine of their strange moniker.

“Ah,” says Essek, not sure how to put all of these impressions into words, especially not in Common. “An auspicious beginning, I see.”

Caleb shares a small grin with him. Essek knows that smile; it usually forecasts some statement that Caleb knows will horrify Essek’s delicate sensibilities, looking forward to how Essek will react.

“Yes, what is it, Caleb Widogast?” Essek asks, trying to keep the answering smile from his own lips and already planning to act as affronted as possible.

“I was covered in mud and shit, you know,” Caleb says conversationally, a gleam in his eye. “When we first met. You would not have come within five feet of me.”

Essek has heard tales of dirty Caleb, and privately been amused at the thought. “I would have Prestidigitated you clean long before you came close enough to be a problem,” he says confidently.

Caleb laughs openly; it’s good to see him comfortable and safe enough to do so. “Perhaps I should fall in the mud and see how cool you would act around me now,” he says with a straight face. His eyes gleam with mischief.

“We shall see then, who is faster on the draw,” says Essek smugly. “My Prestidigitation, or your determination to get dirt upon me first.”

Caleb laughs again and moves to the bar to order them trosts, while Essek sits at the table and waits for the others to arrive. It seems fitting, that Caleb chose this place for their first monthly reunion since Uk’otoa had been vanquished. A new beginning, in a place where a beginning had been forged once before.

Caleb returns, carrying two trosts and wearing a thoughtful smile. “Wishing you had been here to join us from the start?”

Essek is rarely surprised at how well Caleb knows him, these days. This comment still throws him, putting words to a yearning that Essek hadn’t even begun to understand himself. “Had I been here from the start,” Essek says, “the story would have turned out very different.”

Caleb hums and clinks their glasses together, sipping from his trost with a hum. “True,” he acknowledges. “And in the end, you found us assholes anyway.”

The door flies open. Beauregard and Yasha make their way inside, Fjord and Jester hot on their heels. “What did we miss?” Beau demands.

“Hey Trostenwald,” Jester shouts. “We’re back!” She proceeds to cast Thaumaturgy and blow out all the windows in the inn. The innkeeper glares at her in a way that implies she’s not at all surprised by this occurrence.

As the room fills with the shouts and laughter of the Mighty Nein, Essek sits back with a smile.

Yes, indeed. In the end, Essek found them all anyway.

[mllekurtz]

There's a man Essek meets on the train every morning.

🏙️ modern au shadowgast one-shot 🚆 they’re commuters and they fall in love! 🛣️ 7k of moody, romantic vibes with a helping of existential crisis

[sky-scribbles]

Fandom: Critical Role (Campaign 2) Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast Characters: Essek Thelyss, Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre, Uraya Hythenos, Beauregard Lionett, Devexian Tags: Aeor Is For Lovers, Developing Relationship, Slow Burn, Wizard Study  Sessions, The Aeor trip but with twists, Character Growth, Demisexual Essek Thelyss, Worldbuilding Warnings: Canon-typical violence Summary:

Two  wizards venture into Aeor - and find that something has woken in the  dead city’s depths. Something dangerous. Something that will force them  to decide what their pasts mean to them, and what they mean to each  other.

Chapter Eighteen: Fortune's Favour

Five months after their journey to Aeor, Caleb invites Essek to Rexxentrum.

[spottedenchants]

WIP Wednesday

Still been chipping away at the first time fic and just got over a big hurdle in chapter 3, so here's a fun chunk from chapter 1 :D

enjoy! :3

--

Essek hums, satisfied, as he rights Caleb’s shirt collar to its position a mere minute ago and returns to scratching fingertips along Caleb’s jaw, through the hair that has grown in well enough to darken the cut of it quite noticeably. Already a beard in appearance after only a few short days, it isn’t yet particularly soft.

But the sh-skritch of it…. Certainly an entertaining sound.

Sh-skritch sh-skritch.

Caleb, still seated lax, his hands folded polite in his lap while he performs his part as the subject of Essek’s study, leans his jaw into Essek’s hand.

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m beginning to better understand the extent of your grooming habits while you were in Rosohna.”

“How is that?”

Essek holds Caleb by the chin and angles his head leftward with care.

“I thought it was a pretty quick shift, from your initial, mm…”

Right, left. Hm. What to call that mess.

Down, and up- ah, notable delineation under the chin here, but a fade here on either side…. The hair spreads farther down his throat than Essek recalls. Caleb must usually keep these portions trimmed.

A combination, then.

“Ensemble, to the style you kept.”

Side and side, a tad bit longer between cheek hollow and ear, less stiff than the rest along his jawline as well. Does length play such a significant role? Though, perhaps here it is also a result of the reach of his conditioner during baths.

Essek scratches a detour through the coarser bits again.

“Have you made use of any oils?”

Sh-skritch.

Wasn’t it Fjord who made a mention of that? Essek briefly considers along the lines of plain logic, but can’t presently dredge up the memory.

Sh-skritch sh-skritch.

“Too rough for you?”

Caleb lets out a little laugh, which Essek easily requites.

“Mere curiosity.”

He can handle Caleb’s prickles pretty well.

He continues his sh-skritching now under Caleb’s chin and Caleb juts his jaw like a happy kitty.

“It’s been a fair while since I have grown it out so much.”

Blatant dodge. Considering Caleb’s original maintenance plan of a continually smooth face paired with the spontaneity of this research, that’s likely a no, then. Though- the tower can easily provide any manner of conditioners, oils, softeners, the like.

But anyway, back on track.

“If your facial hair grows in this fast, it was certainly frequent upkeep to maintain it gone as well.”

Essek turns Caleb front and center, runs a thumb down his chin- hm. Thick as the hair here now is, even his little dimple is only there in memory.

“Quite a deliberate attempt at camouflage, wasn’t it?”

He meets Caleb’s eyes.

“A presentation of conformity, and yet one of intimidating pride and distinction.”

Blue eyes crinkled bright, Caleb gives him half a grin.

“Takes one to know one.”

Essek mirrors the smirk.

“Perhaps.”

“You didn’t think this then?”

“I didn’t know what to think. You all are…”

Idly toying with the fastening buttons keeping down Caleb’s collar, Essek exhales in a slow stream.

He hated them all as much as he feared them, which is to say, with every fiber of his being. Strange, wild, unpredictable lot.

Ah.

“Eccentric.”

Caleb bumps a chuckle, mouth curling quite prettily.

“I suppose, though I would have hoped my own styling put me in better graces, maybe appearing respectful to the locale- those watching.”

Those watching, hm.

Raising his gaze to meet Caleb’s again, Essek inclines his own head.

“Did you have specfic targets in mind, Caleb?”

Caleb shrugs, his face too nonchalant for the dip in his voice.

“The closest eyes, at least.”

“Well….”

Essek gives an equally smooth lean.

He deposits a kiss upon the apple of Caleb’s cheek and darts back with a full grin.

“Despite your best efforts, I at least ended up liking you.”

“I will, in that case, consider my failure a success.”

[ariadne-mouse]

Here's some cover art for @saturdaysky's dark and compelling character study, poisoning the well, in which Caleb receives a Sending from Trent Ikithon while the travelling through Aeor with Essek and the rest of the Mighty Nein. If you enjoyed their other works Rare Gift or fulcrum, check this out! As always, mind the tags.

A few stills below the cut; I like the middle one as a nice visually balanced cover:

[glossolali]

more heroforges from my SWM cyberpunk h/c fic! part of my winter's crest gift exchange fic for @wanderingbasilisk aka wandie bc they gave me scifi/android/cyberpunk brain rot and so i gave them 6k of said brain rot lol

pls enjoy 🙏💜

[essektheylyss]

message on a wire

Rating: T Relationships: Essek Thelyss/Caleb Widogast Additional Tags: Conversations, Canon-Typical Trauma Discussions, we fuck with demiplanes here sir

Summary:

It takes a while after the Apogee Solstice begins, with all of its associated dangers, for Essek to return home.

[kmackatie]

After an unexpected turn in what was an otherwise normal day, Essek Thelyss casts sending, hoping his partner will have a moment to spare.

read on AO3 here

This fic is loosely set in the same universe as pieces of (you) me, but you do not need to read that one to enjoy this.

Spoilers for c3e95 - A Gathering of Needs.

Cover image by Jez Timms on Unsplash.

Rating: T Fandom: Critical Role Relationship: Essek Thelyss / Caleb Widogast Additional Tags: established relationship, a reunion and a moment to rest, the manifestation of home in a person and a demiplane you create together, playing fast and loose with 5e mechanics, comfort fic Words: 4,746 Chapters: 1/1

[hello-eeveev]

Rated G, 1331 words

“You didn’t like any of the performers, Essek?” “Dislike is a strong word, but they were… not my preference, no.” “What is your preference, then?” Imogen asked.

In which pestering Essek becomes stress relief for yet another adventuring party.