#shadowgast prompt

[maddyscrsideblog]

[ID: A digital illustration of Essek Thelyss and Caleb Widogast from Critical Role. Essek is a floating purple goat and Caleb is an orange sheep. End description.]

Aeor is for lovers (getting turned into farm animals)

[hello-eeveev]

Doodles? 👀 how abouttttt Caleb being silly and distracting while Essek is trying to knit? XD :3

Local wizard decides he is in desperate need of cuddles while his bf is in the middle of knitting.

But once Essek finished his row, he was happy to oblige 💕

[ariadne-mouse]

The wizards visit Frumpkin in the Feywild and he looks, uh, different. But more importantly: nap time.

@lady-shikibu drawing this lowered my blood pressure, thank you!

[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.

[spottedenchants]

Relationship: Essek & Yasha

Additional Tags: POV Essek, Post-C2, Demi Essek, Touch-Starved & Touch-Averse Essek, Essek Overthinks, Fluff, Drow Can Purr, Intimacy, Holding Hands, Hugs, BG M9 & Essek, BG Essek ~ Caleb, BG Beau/Yasha, Communication, notable discussion of things like: Declarations Of Love, Languages and Linguistics, Kryn Dynasty Culture & Customs, Queerplatonic Relationships, Complicated Relationships

Words: 10.4k

Summary:

“Yasha, you-.”

She raises her brows, curiosity blooming plain by the tilt of her head.

“You asked me…”

Preemptive regret and baseless fear both weigh down his tongue. Light, what is he doing.

Essek takes a breath, rushes. No turning back.

“You asked me, a bit ago, if I love him. Caleb.”

-

AKA the Xhorhas kids talk about talking about love

Prompt fill for @quinn-of-aebradore

Read on AO3

[kmackatie]

hey friend, 'garden' for the march writing prompts! ♥

hey friend! thansk for the prompt 💜this is also sleepverse, a few years down the line

(ask me a march writing prompt)

"How has he been?" asks Beau, kicking back until she's balancing dangerously on the back two legs of her chair. She does this often, with a disregard for how quickly it could backfire on her, but then her reactions are quicker than Caleb's. Still. If he uses his foot to make it rock slightly under her to see the brief flick of fear across her face, that is between him and himself. "Obsessive," Caleb replies, sliding his foot back carefully as the chair rocks back onto four legs. "Hey!" "What? He is!" "No, for the fucking--you asshole." Caleb flinches back instinctively--the dining table between them isn't any protection from Beauregard's flying elbows--before he grins. "He has spreadsheets for the optimal watering schedule and exactly when they need to be rotated to maximise the sun!" "Coming from Mr 'I tracked my notebook usage to set up an auto-delivery every six weeks' Widogast. Pot, kettle, black, Caleb." "And does the wildflower know when the rain is coming? No! Yet it still grows!" "Let the man have his passions!" Caleb snorts. Essek has many passions, plants being the most recent. Though in all honesty, this one he quite likes. He hasn't mentioned it yet, but having greenery around is nice. Calming. And it makes him smile to see Essek pottering around with his little watering can and moisture monitor and talking to the plants. He really did need something that got him away from work. But half the fun of arguing with Beauregard is the argument itself, regardless of the content. "Beauregard, I no longer have a laundry. It's become a greenhouse!" "You really should look at moving. Apartments really are not set up for gardens, and it's good for him. Good for you too." Caleb swallows past the lump in his throat. They have spoken about it, about how it might be time to start looking for somewhere a little bigger, with a little more space, they just can't quite agree on where yet. It's also something he never thought he would be in a place to achieve--a relationship, or a house, or anything stable. A blessing, and he's terrified of moving too quickly least the house of cards comes crashing down around him. "Eventually. " "I'll send you a listing that Dairon was talking about recently. Has a vegetable garden and a small greenhouse. I think you might convince him once you see it." "I--it's not necessarily him that needs convincing. It feels... the apartment is safe. But a house?" "You could have a library. A whole nerd room of books. Isn't that worth doing something a little scary?" He thinks about it. Takes a breath. "Ja. Ja, it can be. No promises, but send it to me later." "We'll make a proper adult out of you yet."

[bloopitynoot]

Shadowgast AUs I would 10000% read (if they exist/ed);

The Devil Wears Prada- you know exactly who Miranda is and exactly who Andy is - but instead of platonic, it's a slow burn, and they definitely get together in the end.

***Greys Anatomy- instead of wizards, they're surgeons in different specialties

Chef au 🙏 Essek is an established and respected chef Caleb is new(ish) to the scene with his restaurant

writer AU where they know of eachothers works but not by their name since they both write under an alias- maybe meet at a writing convention/conference?

Punk band au: There's a spot open in the Mighty Nein and Essek auditions?

Queer bookstore by day- bar by night, of course owned by the mighty nein. Closeted Essek keeps coming back for the literature and definitely not the cute ginger co owner 👀

***EDIT: There is a shadowgast Greys-Au in the works by @godanti it's got a chapter, and it's fantastic so far.

[critmaswishingtree]

Prompt Spotlight: Shadowgast -- Simulated Exhibitionism via Illusion

FIC or ART: Either!

Relationship: Shadowgast

Potential fill ratings: Mature, Explicit

Description of Prompt:

Illusion magic and the Tower are a potent combination. Essek and Caleb play around to fulfill some exhibitionist fantasies using programmed illusions and/or other magic. Does Essek want to play around with the fact that Caleb probably could have fit under that obscuring robe and mantle in the Bright Queen's throne room? Do they want to pretend they have a large audience for a raunchy scene? You decide! CNC is fine, off-screen scene negotiation also fine if implied. DNW: Rape/noncon

Interested in filling this prompt? Go here to claim it!

Interested in including your own prompt in the fest? Go here!

Want to know more? Check out the FAQ!

Please fulfill this prompt as part of the fest so the prompter gets to see it!

[ravendruid]

Tea Time

This fic is part of this writing challenge, as well as based on the prompt Tea Time from this prompt list. Day 3 - Use the words: kitchen, date, music [Read on AO3]

It has been a few days since Caduceus heard news from his blue tiefling friend, Jester. It doesn’t bother him much because he knows if something wrong happened, someone would have contacted him already, but he has to admit that he misses his friend’s bubbly voice in the mornings wishing him a good day and telling him news from home. Caleb doesn’t contact him as much as Jester does, so his silence is not as worrying, and as for Veth, she rarely messages him anyway. Of all his friends (they truly are nine now), only these three have means to communicate through long distances (well, them and Essek, but since the Drow is still a fugitive, there aren’t many opportunities for him to contact Caduceus or to appear at the grove), so Caduceus never expects the rest of the Nein to reach out.

But, as it happens, sometimes silence does not mean good things are afoot, and even if bad news travels fast, on some occasions, it doesn’t travel as fast as a teleporting purple Elf who appears in the middle of Caduceus’s garden. The Firbolg man is elbows-deep in mulch when a hint of purple and silver light flickers a mere few feet ahead of him and Essek, in his dark purple and black robes and curly white hair, flashes into existence.

“Mr. Clay,” The man greets, huffing as if he has been running for miles and miles. “I am sorry to appear unannounced. I was wondering if you have heard news from our friends?”

“Now, now. Take deep breaths, Mr. Essek,” Caduceus’s voice is calm as there is no need to panic just yet. He dusts off his hands and wipes them on a rag hanging from the pocket of his gardening apron, then adjusts the large brimmed sun hat on his head and takes a long good look at his guest. Essek’s hair is disheveled, his eyes are full of fear and worry, and his robes are somewhat askew. The nails of his shaky hands are bitten harshly, but what makes Caduceus worry the most is that the Drow’s feet are touching the ground. Essek must be in a real state of distraught if he didn’t even bother to cast his levitation spell.

“Please, come inside. Let me make you some tea,” Caduceus offers. Essek nods and follows him inside the cozy cottage. He sits on the stool at the kitchen table and watches as Caduceus removes his apron and cleans his hands. He then brings a kettle to boil on the wooden stove top and prepares two mugs with loose-leaf tea. Essek watches, his eyes wide and pupils blown and a leg shaking underneath the table, but he doesn’t speak. 

“I have not heard from anyone in a few days,” Caduceus pours the boiling water over the leaves in the teapot and closes the lid to let it steep. He then sits down on a second stool in front of Essek. “I didn’t think anything of it.”

“I am afraid that something has happened, Mr. Clay,” Essek’s hands shake on his lap. “Caleb—Mr. Widogast and I had a… meeting of sorts scheduled for last night,” Essek’s purple cheeks deepen in color at this information and he hesitates. Caduceus shifts his gaze to the teapot between them to allow the man to gather his thoughts in privacy. After a few seconds of silence, Essek continues, “You know he never forgets anything. He is always on time, but last night… he didn’t appear, Mr. Clay, and I can’t help but fear that something has happened.”

Caduceus ponders the information in silence. He slowly removes the strainer of tea leaves from the teapot and pours two cups, one for him, one for Essek, who takes his with shaky hands. Caleb does indeed have a keen memory and an even keener punctuality, so if Essek is this distraught about his friend missing their “meeting”, then it must certainly be a big deal. But Caduceus isn’t learned in magic like Essek and Caleb, who get their arcane knowledge from books. Instead, he gets his powers from his deity and nature, so he has no way to contact his friends, but maybe the Wildmother can help.

“I have an idea, Mr. Essek,” he finally says. Essek’s eyes snap up with hope, but the Firbolg doesn’t offer any more information. Instead, he rises from his stool and walks out onto the grove. Essek tracks behind, towards a nook where the Clay family holds a shrine in honor of the Wildmother. On a stone pedestal sits a clay statue of the Goddess, a full-figured body enveloped by wild tangles of hair, leaves and vines, and underneath, a wreath of leaves and dried berries with a crooked staff in the middle. Caduceus gestures to a fallen log nearby, inviting Essek to sit before the Firbolg sits cross-legged in front of the statue. He gestures his hand to the ground and mushrooms, flowers and other greenery appear from the earth, as if the cleric has grown them himself, then he lights up a stick of incense and pours a bottle of a translucent liquid into a small bowl. 

Caduceus closes his eyes and concentrates for a minute. The rustle of leaves turns into the sound of crashing waves, the smell of the moist earth beneath him becomes the salty scent of the ocean, and the music of the wind-chimes shifting in the morning breeze is replaced by the loud scream of gulls in the distance. When he opens his eyes, Caduceus sees that the hard rock he sits on ends on a tall, rough cliff, dozens of feet above the crashing waves of the Lucidian Ocean. 

“Hello, Wildmother,” he says, smiling. An ocean-scented breeze caresses his cheek and ruffles his hair in greeting. “I was wondering if you have news from my friends. Are they together?” The breeze is soft and temperate when it rustles his pink hair, and for a moment, Caduceus swears he hears a warm, feminine voice whisper Some are. “Are any of them hurt?” Caduceus asks. The wind turns warm and brings the scent of copper in affirmation. His stomach turns nervously. Caduceus only has one question left, so he ponders his words well before he says, “Are they coming to seek my help?” Again, the warm breeze shifts past in affirmation, but this time it carries with the familiar scent of the Blooming Grove. Caduceus nods politely and wishes goodbye to the goddess. When he opens his eyes, Essek is standing on his feet, glaring anxiously.

“We must prepare,” Caduceus explains as calmly as he can, “They are alive but hurt. We need to get ready to help.” Essek nods, and as soon as his host is on his feet, he stalks him inside, where they ready cots, herbs, poultices and anything they might need. 

Right on cue, as Essek finishes wiping the sweat off his brow with the sleeve of his cloak, a light flickers outside, bright orange like fire, and Caleb, Beauregard and Yasha fall to the ground, bloodied and gushing for air. Essek runs as fast as his legs allow him—he notices he’s out of shape since he rarely uses them anymore—to hold Caleb aloft as Caduceus runs to Beau and her Wife.

“There is no time for questions,” Caleb’s voice is hoarse, his face is scratched and blood gushes from his abdomen. Essek shakes his head and raises him to his feet, but both men’s legs shake with the weight. “Scheiße,” Caleb curses between his teeth, covering his injury with his free hand. 

“Mr. Clay, we could use some help over here,” Essek’s voice shakes. His pupils are wide and refuse to leave the red stain that keeps growing on his lover’s torso. Caduceus runs back from the doorway where he left a not-so-injured Yasha to carry Beau and holds Caleb on the opposite side of Essek. Together, they manage to bring him inside and lie him on a spare cot and the healer is on him in an instant, cleaning the wound and channeling the Wildmother’s powers to cure him.

Caleb raises his rough hand to Essek’s damp face, a thumb wiping the tears that fall silently, and the Drow leans into the touch with his eyes closed. He knows one day the fugitive life will catch up to him and permanently separate him from the human he cares for so much, but Essek never considered the possibility that his lover could be the one to find himself on the wrong end of a sword sooner rather than later. Yet, here he is. Barely alive, yes, but here. “Sorry I missed our date, liebling,” Caleb apologizes with longing in his voice. It still pains him to see his frail human so hurt, so full of guilt for failing his promise. They don’t have many opportunities to be together, so they treasure every second, and for Caleb, missing out on a full day of Essek cuddles and reading must have been torture. So Essek smiles, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes, and says, “Do not worry Caleb Widogast. I will make sure you make it up to me.”

[somestreptomyces]

Read on ao3

Caleb paused in the kitchen doorway, intentions for tea entirely forgotten in the wake of the scene before him.

"Is that…a scale?"

The waspish reply he received was somewhat diminished by the smear of flour dusted across Essek’s high cheekbone. "Yes."

He carefully removed a spoonful of flour from its dish, glaring at the needle indicating its weight as it bobbed. "Your kitchen instruments were inaccurate and I will not let this fail due to lackadaisical measurements."

Caleb pressed his lips tight, smothering any teasing reply he might have made. He watched as Essek nodded with satisfaction, plucking the bowl and setting it aside before replacing it with an empty one, marking a bit of parchment with the weight and quickly scratching out the arithmetic. Caleb stepped further into the kitchen, noting the neat little row of other carefully measured and labeled bowls spread across the table. "I don't know, " he said, plucking one of the clearly already weighed chocolate morsels and popping it into his mouth, "my mutti always said she measured with her heart and she was an excellent cook."

Essek pursed his lips, pulling the bowl out of Caleb's reach. "Baked goods cannot be left to whimsy, Caleb Widogast."

He didn't quite manage to suppress a snort of laughter this time, though he quickly schooled his face neutral again under Essek's withering glare. It didn't last long, however, irritation melting into genuine unease. He plucked at his lower lip in nervous habit, casting his eyes down at the table before him.

"Jester made her displeasure with my last offering quite clear. I do not wish to disappoint her again."

Caleb reached around the scale, drawing Essek’s flour-dusted fingers from their fussing and pressing their backs to his lips instead. "I am sure she will be delighted that you took the time to bake for her, even if they do not turn out as perfectly as you hope."

Essek smiled self-consciously, squeezing Caleb's fingers and sighing. "I don't really know what I'm doing."

"Well,” Caleb said, releasing Essek’s hand to tie his hair back and look over the contents of the table, “as it turns out I am an excellent kitchen helper. You've got your butter and sugar measured out? Let me start creaming them while you finish the rest."

based on this prompt list

When baking chocolate chip cookies

[gaygoetia]

I wanna get back into writing fanfiction but I have zero inspiration. With that in mind:

Please send me Critical Role fanfic prompts!

Particularly for these ships

Imogen/Laudna

Ashton/Fearne

Ashton/Orym

Caleb/Essek

Caleb/Astrid/Eadwulf

Caleb/Lucien

Or these platonic groups/pairings

Ashton & Laudna

Imogen & Orym

Jester & Essek

Verin & Essek

Verin & Caleb

Though prompts that fall outside of any of the above will still be considered.

I like to write

Dark/Angsty/Emotional stuff

Sexual tension

Mutual pining

Friends to Lovers

Unhealthy or unrequited relationships

Sibling relationships (NOT in an incestuous way for the love of God)

AU's (whether it's just canon divergence, modern au or a complete genre change I simply like to be freed from the shackles of canon)

I don't like to write

Action scenes

Fluff

Non-con

Incest

Established relationships (unless they're particularly messy, complex or toxic)

*Disclaimer that this is by no means a guarantee that I will write all or even any of the prompts I receive. I am chronically unreliable and all sorts of stars have to align for me to actually write something. That said, inspiration (e.g. prompts) is a good way to get them to do that so please don't let this put you off!

[lessattitudemorealtitude]

Next Aeor Shadowgast oneshot!

After finishing a trance, Essek explores the tower. He was not expecting to find Caleb sleeping on the Eighth floor.

The floor he claims is 'complicated'.

Whumpril prompt: "Do Not Push Me Away"

[ariadne-mouse]

For doodle prompt: Essek knitting a ridiculously long scarf that is covering Caleb and their plethora of cats. Feel better!!

"You are smiling, dear."

"I dropped a stitch ten rows ago and I'm not going back to fix it."

[blorbologist]

Heyyy I'm single and bored on this Val of Tines Day, so:

Send me an AU/WIP (see my pinned post) + a ship and I'll give you a lil romantic moment for them set in that universe! Either a whole complicated HC or a lil snippet <3

[kmackatie]

For prompts, how about 'flutter' for "Sleep With Benefits" Caleb and Essek?

oooh sleepverse! keen for that

(ask me a march writing prompt)

A crack of thunder pulls Caleb from his sleep, his eyelids fluttering as he shifts. He reaches out instictively--Essek's a lighter sleeper than him, more prone to waking with the slightest of reasons--and his hand touches cold sheets. It's been while then. Light flashes, blinding out his partially lidded eyes, and a second crack follows right on the hells. He swears he can feel the wind, the phantom rain, can feel the skin prick as if he was standing in the open and not lying in Essek's bed. Blinking, Caleb stirs fully, sitting up and letting the sheet pool around his waist. He beerily peers around, yawning as he tries to locate his partner. He realises why he could feel the wind; Essek is standing before the balcony, the curtains drawn back and the door wide open. His silver robe is slipping off one shoulder, caught in the maelstrom that is raging outside. Another flash, and Essek is silhouetted against a white sky before it plunges back into darkness, the door rattling with the force of the storm. It takes Caleb's breath for a moment, for the way Essek doesn't even flinch in the face of nature's fury, a statue. Slipping from the bed, Caleb pads across the room, wondering how best to draw Essek from whatever is holding him. How to reach him. Essek hasn't given any indication that he's aware of Caleb's presence and he doesn't want to startle him. In the end, he opts to step up next to him. It doesn't entirely stop Essek from jumping, from flinching back before he realises who it is and who is there. "Caleb." "Hey." Another flash of lightning, illuminated Essek's white hair and turned his usual storm-grey eyes silver. The rain is hitting them here, blowing in with the breeze, and he can't help but shiver. "Everything okay?" "Hmm?" Caleb nods towards the open door, the storm raging around them, and winces as thunder cracks again. "Yes. I couldn't sleep." "Something on the mind?" "Mm. I'll come in soon." Caleb watches him, watches how Essek looks far away, eyes scanning and tracking the rain. He leans in and kisses Essek's cheek. "Don't stay too long, you'll catch a cold."

[moondrops-and-ink]

It hadn't meant to be a sad discussion, and Caleb had repeatedly apologized for ruining the mood, but Essek wasn't focused on that. Essek had a mission now.

The first year after the Nein settled into their home lives had presented some challenges for Caleb. The man had not had a home since he was a teenager...making a home for himself had caused a different kind of stress. What did one do when they didn't have to run anymore?

Caleb obsessively checked the wards and locks every night before bed in the same order. He had taken up gardening and was growing green beans on the windowsill outside the kitchen, but he still sometimes forgot to water it when he got busy. Some nights, Caleb told him how he'd sit alone in the quiet and feel like he couldn't breathe, it was too peaceful. He missed the chaos. Sometimes he'd drop a vase on purpose just to have something broken to fix. To feel useful.

Another problem had come up about a week ago. Caleb and Essek had been sitting on the couch together reading, Essek had been able to visit for a few days longer than normal. The man had seemed on edge since he had arrived, but the Drow had not pushed it, not wanting to make it worse.

"....I am thirty five now." Caleb had murmured quietly, looking down at a book. Essek blinked and sat up more, looking over at him quizzically. "Since when?" He asked.

"As of twenty two hours and thirteen minutes ago." Caleb stated, schooling his face into something neutral.

"Today was...your birthday." Essek's stomach had dropped. He hadn't known. It had never come up. Essek hadn't celebrated his own in so long. The most thought he gave it had been the business letters of birthday recognition with a small basket of treats. He had always been much too busy.

But this was Caleb. He was human. Every birthday was so special for a short lived species.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly, setting his book aside and moving closer. Caleb sighed, head leaning back against the couch to stare up at the ceiling. "I wasn't sure if it mattered." He shrugged, a frown now tugging at Essek's lips.

"Of course it matters, Caleb Widogast. Did you think the Nein would not want to celebrate? Did you not reach out?" He inquired further. Caleb's cheeks seemed to redden in shame. "...I...thought they would remember. But...perhaps they did not with how busy they all are now. Fjord and Jester have Moll-I mean Kingsley to take care of..." Essek noted the slight crack in Caleb's voice when he said Molly's name, there was some unresolved guilt there he knew he couldn't take from him. "Yasha and Beau are hard at work...Beau is so busy assisting me with Ikithon's case...and Veth has her family...Caduceus has the Grove to help run..." Excuses.

"And me? What? Was I too busy for you?" He asked. Caleb shook his head. "No, my friend. It...well. It is my first birthday alone since...I was a young man." He mentioned. Essek immediately put it all together. This was Caleb's first birthday in his homeland since his parents had died at his hands. He had no memory of his time in Vergesson...this was a first for him.

"Caleb-" "They used to make apple tarts for me...on my birthday." He whispered. Essek closed his mouth, scooting closer until their legs were pressed together. "My parents could not afford ingredients for cake...but making apple tarts was easier. My Mutter would caramelize the top to make it crunchy...usually I got a book. Some years I didn't. But my birthday always had two things: apple tarts and dancing."

Essek took all of it in, reaching for Caleb's hand shyly. "....You were afraid, then? Of today?" He asked, watching Caleb nod. "I spent so long ignoring my birthday. Pretending that mark of time did not exist. Now I have nothing to hide behind. No world ending demigod...no grand adventure...no war to stop...I am thirty five years old..." The statement hung heavy. Caleb was thirty five years old, but the way he said it translated effortlessly to Essek. He was able to focus on himself as an individual for the first time in decades, no longer a part of some machine. He was older, he was no longer the young man trapped in Trent's clutches. He was Caleb Widogast now, a man who lived in a cottage right outside of Rexxentrum, a retired adventurer, a full time scholar.

"It is hard to contend with feelings you have kept buried for so long. I understand." Essek murmured, squeezing his hand. Caleb let out a shaky breath. "I just miss them so much...I'll never see them again. I destroyed my only solution to. There is no more planning...no more searching....I will never have my mother's apple tarts again, and I will never dance with my father, or hear that they are proud of me." His voice shook as he spoke, Essek's heart breaking. He knew Caleb made the right choice, but it didn't mean it was painless.

He laid his head on his shoulder and dared to hold his hand properly, fingers twining with Caleb's. "Tell me how the tarts tasted...every detail." He said gently.

And Caleb had. Essek had left the following morning for Uthodurn, a promise to return soon. His stay with Reani had not been for penance this time. No, he came to her with a simple request. "Teach me to bake."

She had. They had spent the week going over basics and Essek had read books and scrolls and recipes.

"Essek, what are we going to do with all these tarts?" Reani asked, looking at the multiple trays they had done. Blueberry, lemon, strawberry, and apple. "....Eat them? Ah...I will take what you do not want and give them to the Nein. I'm sure they'll enjoy them." They weren't perfect. But they were good. Essek wasn't satisfied though, he couldn't make caramel to drizzle over the apple tarts. Burnt. Burnt. Burnt. He let out a frustrated "uuuuugh!" At the fourth attempt, nose wrinkling the smell.

"We don't need the caramel, buddy. It's okay." Reani soothed, frowning when Essek shook his head. "No. I have to get it right. The recipe had it. Caleb's mom made it with this topping." He was determined. Sighing, Reani began to clean the pot. Her house was going to smell like burnt sugar for weeks.

---

All of that had led to Essek standing outside of Caleb's door currently. He had a covered basket filled with the different tarts, and on top were the apple ones. Essek had finally made it. He was worried the caramel was slightly burned, but it had the right color and had poured over the tops of the tarts nicely.

"Hallo?" Caleb opened the door, blinking at the familiar face of Essek's disguise. "Oh, my friend it...I was not aware of your return. This is a very nice surprise, please come in." He stood aside and held the door open, Essek smiling some as he walked in, no footsteps heard. Once the door shut his disguise melted away, leaving Essek feeling much better.

"It was a matter of importance, but I was able to solve it rather quickly." He informed, removing his mantle and cloak and setting them on the hooks Caleb had begun to leave empty for him.

"And you have brought gifts?" Caleb questioned, Essek nodding. "Yes. Um...the kitchen," He floated towards it and set the basket on the counter. He was nervous...he wanted this to be good. He had hated seeing how unsure and scared Caleb had been.

"Sit down please." Essek ordered, Caleb blinking but obeying as he took a seat at the small table. "And...close your eyes." Caleb raised an eyebrow, but did so. "Essek, are you giving me a surprise?" He asked, lips twitching in a smile. Essek blushed and nodded, only to realize Caleb couldn't see it.

"Yes. Now hold out a hand." Caleb did so, looking rather cute in his white poet shirt, sleeves rolled up...no shoes and his brown pants. He looked so at ease. Essek took an apple tart from the bag and set it in his waiting palm. Caleb pursed his lips and tilted his head. "Was?"

"Open." Essek said. Caleb's eyes slid open slowly and he started down at the tart, recognition flitting in his gaze. "Oh, you bought some pastries?" He asked, Essek shaking his head. "No um...I...made them." He explained, cheeks darkening.

Caleb's eyes widened. "You...made...wait-" He looked closer, the scent familiar. The man sat up more and took a bite of the tart, Essek watching nervously. Caleb's face went on a quick but complex journey. Recognition, confusion, slight distaste...oh no.

"Ah, the caramel topping proved to be quite difficult. I understand if it is not the best. Here, I have others that turned out much better, let me just..." Essek turned and began looking for a different flavor, feeling a little disappointed that he had failed. It wad such a simple thing Caleb had craved..

He jumped as arms embraced him from behind, a familiar nose burying in his shoulder. "Caleb?" He froze where he was, not used to him being so forward. He thought he heard a sniff, and he panicked. "Oh my...was it really that bad?" He asked, wincing. The arms held him tighter.

"You tried to make mein Mutter's tarts, didn't you?" Caleb asked softly, voice tight. "I did, yes. I...was that not the correct action? You seemed very nostalgic last time we spoke...I thought maybe I could...you know..."

"Danke..." Caleb pressed closer. "You spent the whole week obsessing over it, didn't you?"

Essek bit his lip. "....Reani's house might have a...permanent burnt sugar smell now." He confessed. Caleb laughed quietly, the sound wet. "Caleb, I am sorry if my actions upset you, I truly did not mean-"

Caleb turned Essek around forcibly and hugged him tightly, Essek clinging to him in surprise. "I do not deserve this kindness...you went out of your way...this is very sweet of you, Essek. I am overcome with fondness right now, I am not upset." He assured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Essek held on a little tighter.

"They were good then?"

"Oh, nein. Das ist nicht lecker. The caramel was still burnt and the apples were still hard." He said, chuckling. Essek's ears drooped. "Oh..."

"No one has made those for me since I was younger...I am so happy." He pulled back to hold Essek's face. "You...made me my favorite dessert. Even if it wasn't good...you tried. For me. That is the nicest thing I have ever gotten from you." He wiped his own eyes and smiled at him like he had hung the moon, gaze warm.

Essek couldn't stop the smile he had if he wanted to.

"Happy Birthday, Caleb Widogast." He murmured.

"Thank you, Essek..." Caleb replied.

do you think Essek taking up knitting and baking is not only for presents for caleb, but to give Caleb homemade gifts in the way he used to get and misses from his family

imagine Caleb's first birthday post-nein, without his mother's apple tart, him quietly and sadly telling Essek. Essek immediately taking it on himself to learn to bake and give him something. It can never be the same but he can remind Caleb he is loved.