#zemnian nights

[natp20]

i vote that The Frisky Full Moon be included in the list of raunchy paperbacks canonically in circulation throughout exandria

[quantummindclassicalheart]

a soft place to land

A companion to this piece by @belligerentbagel. A few years after their travels with the Mighty Nein, Caleb and Jester reunite for the summer and kinda sorta fall in love all over again.

Caleb Widogast never used to sleep easy. The downside of a keen memory was the way it came back to bite you in your dreams, the way it teased you with stained-glass fragments of the past (as beautiful as they were sharp, and more than capable of drawing blood).

There are nights when he still wakes up in a cold sweat, caught up in a memory of fire or blood or ash. He still puts the silver thread up around the bedroom out of force of habit.

But these days, more often then not, he sleeps through the night and wakes with the rising sun. For there is a cottage in a glen and it is his (for the summers at least) and it is a home for his heart and his friends (the two are one and the same). There is a bed, comfortable as any he's ever known and big enough for two.

And she is here, still asleep in the early morning light and curled up in her silky pink pajamas with a body pillow in the likeness of an oversized Frumpkin. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, filled with a gentle stillness that an awake Jester rarely has the patience for. She is here and she is so beautiful and also she is drooling on the pillow a little bit but she is beautiful anyway.

It was not so long ago that Jester had Sent him a message, telling him that she and Fjord had decided they needed a break, and could she stay with him for the summer while she figured things out, and also how was Essek and teaching—as the spell’s limitations cut Jester’s message short, Caleb observed that it was sort of nice to see she hadn’t changed one bit. Jester was still as Jester as ever.

And Essek is indeed around when he can be, but for now they too are on a break. He is a satellite that comes into Caleb’s orbit tracing eccentric trajectories through their shared space and time, pulling on the threads of their mutual attraction. It is still dangerous for him to remain in one place for too long, but the now former Shadowhand is clever and canny, and one day he may come to stay for good.

But for now, Jester is here and Essek is not. And summer has unfurled its warmth over the Marrow Valley. Strawberries have come and gone. Apples are growing ripe on the branch and the kitchen is filled with the smells of baked goods and stews and roasts in the evenings. They eat well. They spend afternoons at the market or reading in the shade of the apple tree that stands in the meadow. Caleb has learned to harness train a handful of his cats (with some helpful tips from Oremid Hass and the assistance of many, many treats), and so they take the cats for walks when the weather is nice and the cats are in a good mood.

It’s not hard for Caleb to turn some spare workshop space into a makeshift studio, so there is room for Jester to sketch and paint to her heart’s content—though one of the cats, Klaus, insists on being held while she paints, and so Jester has had to learn to paint with a cat in one arm. The paintings still turn out pretty good anyway.

Caleb asks Jester about her old friend Artagan (last she heard, he was off messing with some newly discovered plane of clockwork robots) and in turn Jester asks him about his colleagues at the academy (the Conjuration faculty are nice enough, but Professor Ostoroth in Abjuration is an insufferable bureaucrat, and not even a particularly competent one).

In time, Jester tells Caleb about Fjord and their time at sea. She tells him about sailing on the Nein Heroez, and how the exciting bits were usually separated by days or even weeks of nothing but open sea. In the evenings she sings him the shanties she’d learned from the other sailors to pass the time, including the bawdy ones. Especially the bawdy ones.

Jester tells him of traveling so far that she saw constellations she’d never seen before, twinkling jewels set into the darkest night skies in all of Exandria. On clear nights, Orly would lend her a spyglass and teach her their names—there was the Wyvern and the Manticore and the Great Owlbear and the Gelatinous Cube (though privately she thought this last one, an approximately rhombus-shaped bunch of stars, was kind of a cop-out by someone who’d probably gotten sick of naming constellations).

She shares stories of the many times that she and Fjord talked their way out of sticky situations, and more than a few where they had to fight their way through. “Fjord was always trying to protect me,” she concludes. “And he’s a really sweet guy for that. But… I don’t need protecting, you know?” And gods, does Caleb know it. He has always known it. Sapphires may sparkle, but they are tougher than they look.

In the years since their adventures with the Mighty Nein, Caleb has continued to change (as befits a Transmutation wizard, after all). There are the beginnings of smile lines around his eyes that never were there before. It is getting easier for him to let himself be loved, to accept that others will know him (even the parts he would rather stayed hidden) and they will love him anyway. 

And through their conversations, Caleb has come to see that Jester has in fact changed too. She is less afraid to let the mask fall, to be more than the avatar of joy and chaos that others expect her to be. She is more sure of herself, of what (and who) she wants. And so when Jester tells him on a sunny afternoon that she might have more than just friendly platonic feelings for him, Caleb doesn’t immediately withdraw or try to hide away. Of the two of them, she has always been the brave one. But he is learning to be brave too.

And now she is here, sleeping beside him. She is here and she is as real as anything he has ever known and he loves her, plain and simple.

The new term at Soltryce will begin soon, and Caleb will have classes to prepare. There are students' names to memorize and lectures to write and new pedagogies to test and he really does look forward to it, even if it means that this respite will soon come to an end. But not quite yet.

Jester rolls over and her eyes flutter open. "Hey, Caleb." Her morning voice is still low and crackly and not quite warmed up yet.

“Ah, good morning. You slept well?”

“Really well,” says Jester, giving the plush Frumpkin a scritch. She yawns and stretches, catlike herself. “So, what are we gonna do today?”

Caleb thinks for a bit, tries to quiet the voice in his head that counts the days until summer’s end. “I do have Teleport prepared today. We could go anywhere you like. I could take you home for a bit, if you want.”

She looks at him with those shining violet eyes, places a hand softly on his arm, and simply says, “I’m already home.”

Caleb reaches over to muss her hair, carefully avoiding the horns (he has learned firsthand just how sensitive they are). “That is a lovely sentiment, though it does not help us decide what to do with the rest of the day.”

Jester pouts. “Caleb. I was just trying to say something cute, okay? Don’t ruin—mmph,” she says, as he leans over and interrupts her indignation with a kiss on the lips.

“It was very cute,” he says teasingly as they break away. “You are very cute. Let’s start with breakfast, ja?”

“Ja, bitte,” replies Jester. “…did I say it right?”

<Your pronunciation was flawless, darling,> says Caleb in Zemnian as he gets out of bed and puts on his slippers.

“Wait, Caleb! What does that mean? Caleb?”

“I’m afraid you will just have to catch me to find out,” says Caleb, starting to walk towards the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye he spies her subtly preparing to cast Hold Person, and turns to brush it away with a swift Counterspell.

“If you wanted to Hold Person so badly,” he remarks wryly to a blushing Jester, “you could have just asked,” and he climbs back into bed to wrap her up in a warm and cozy embrace.

[ravendruid]

Things I'm still not over:

Essek calling Caleb his partner and talking about him all the time;

Eseek calling Caleb every night;

Essek using Zemnian words, such as 'scheisse';

Essek learning the dome spell (this one killed me);

Salmon!Essek being carried by Caleb.

[the-kaedageist]

congrats on hitting your follower milestone!! for a CR short fic prompt, how about shadowgast where essek is learning to coexist with caleb's cats? :)

I'm emerging from the abyss to answer this prompt 11 months later, but I hope you enjoy! I also believe someone else had Caleb having a cat named Gretchen before me and my brain borrowed it from someone; apologies, it just fit so well.

“Ah,” says Caleb when Essek arrives for their weekly meeting. “Since you were here last, I have acquired another housemate.”

This feels like a somewhat alarming statement. Thankfully, the suspense is not held for long - a moment later, a calico cat makes her way daintily into the room with them, stares up at Essek, and hisses.

“Gretchen,” Caleb scolds, along with a long string of Zemnian that Essek’s rudimentary skills can’t hope to follow. He’s just about mastered ‘please’, ‘thank you’, and some of the major foods; nowhere near native-speaker-speaking-to-his-cat level.

Essek tries not to be offended at being hissed at, even as he can feel his own ears flicking back behind his head in annoyance. “I have done nothing to you,” he says to the cat.

“She is scared,” says Caleb, reaching down to scritch the calico’s ears. She glares at Essek but submits happily to the pets. “She will get used to you.”

The cat eyes him like a particularly unpleasant thing that has been dropped on the floor. Well, Essek thinks, he has certainly had nemeses before. What is one more?

The situation does not improve from there. Every week, Essek Teleports to Caleb’s house, and every week, Gretchen acts as though Essek has offended her to the very depths of her being. (It probably doesn’t help that the third time this happened, Essek hissed back.)

By the end of the first month, Essek despairs that he will ever have a good relationship with Caleb’s animal companion.

At night, when he’s downstairs studying and Caleb is asleep, Essek sneaks back upstairs to find Gretchen curled up at Caleb’s side, purring happily. When Caleb is reading on the couch and Essek is attempting to cook in the kitchen, he peeks in to find Gretchen stubbornly attempting to seat herself in the middle of Caleb’s book, to Caleb’s laughter.

It seems that although they loathe one another, he and Gretchen share a love of the same man. Surely there is common ground they can find.

One night, Yasha and Beau come over for dinner. Gretchen is ambivalent about Beau (although no hissing is involved), but she waltzes right up to Yasha and starts headbutting her ankle.

“Oooh, hello, little beauty,” Yasha says, reaching down to scratch her cheek. Gretchen stares up at her adoringly. Essek also stares at her, aghast and betrayed.

“What is this?” he asks like a spurned lover.

“What is what?” Beau asked. She glanced over at Yasha. “Oh, the cat? She loves Yasha. For obvious reasons, of course.”

Essek rolls his eyes. “I thought she did not like strangers.”

Beau blinks. Her eyes narrow and her mouth stretches into a smirk. “Does the cat not like you, Essek?”

“No,” Essek denies quickly. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” He quickly makes an exit to the kitchen, making excuses about checking the soup, before he can be pestered further.

That is when he begins to wonder what he’s doing wrong.

First, he tries dressing more comfortably for his trips to Caleb’s. Perhaps, Gretchen is intimidated by the points on his mantle and the finery of his robes – is that a thing cats care about? The only cats Essek has ever encountered have been moorbounders, and usually they care more about the quality of their meal.

Unfortunately, even in loose pants and a soft shirt, Gretchen still glares and hides from him on his next visit. Caleb seems to appreciate the change though, pulling Essek into his arms and cuddling with him more than normal, and Essek makes a mental note that perhaps more comfortable clothing was in order regardless of the cat’s opinion.

Next, he attempts to determine if Yasha has bribed the cat for her love. He does research and discovers that cats are known to love meat and fish. The next week, when he Teleports into Caleb’s house, he pulls out a handkerchief with some pieces of fish stashed inside and lays it out on the floor. Gretchen does her usual routine of glaring at him while growling before she slowly approaches to sniff the food.

Caleb looks amused. “You brought a present?”

Essek shrugs, feeling heat on the back of his neck. “She is part of your family.”

Gretchen eats up every morsel of fish, to Essek’s relief. However, once her meal is complete, she goes back to hissing and glowering as though no offering had ever been made.

Essek is starting to feel a bit offended. This feels personal.

One night, he cuddles up with Caleb, dejected, as Caleb strokes his hands through Essek’s hair and coils a curl around his finger. “You are quieter than usual,” says Caleb. “Is something wrong?”

Essek glances up at him through his lashes. “Gretchen does not like me.”

Caleb says, “hmm” and continues to stroke Essek’s hair. “I have thought much about this, and I think she sees you as another cat.”

This is not something Essek has ever considered. “Another cat?” he echoes, surprised.

Caleb presses a kiss to his hairline. “You have cat-like mannerisms. You are prickly and picky and beautiful. Does it surprise you at all?”

Essek thinks for a moment; perhaps it does make some sort of strange sense. “So if I am another cat, how do I win her affection?” he asks at last.

“Well,” says Caleb, “ideally I would have put you both in adjoining rooms and let you sniff each other under the door.”

Essek gives him an unamused look. “Caleb Widogast, I am not actually a cat.”

Caleb tousles his hair with a small chuckle. “Ja, of course. Then I would say…be around her. In, ah, her orbit, so to speak. Give her space, but be present and let her get used to you.”

“I have been present,” says Essek petulantly. “She does not like me.”

Caleb shakes his head. “You either approach her head-on or you give her a wide berth – understandable, but I do not think it helps.” He lays his forehead against Essek’s curls. “You are stubborn. You will find a way.”

And slowly, Essek does.

He continues to bring Gretchen fish, but retreats beyond arm’s reach so that she can eat without feeling threatened. He is careful to seat himself within her watchful gaze when she is near, so that she will know his location. He stops trying to befriend and starts letting her be, and Caleb had been right – once he gives her the space to get to know him on her own terms, Gretchen finally, finally begins to thaw.

The first day she approaches him after her fish treat and lets him tentatively reach down to scratch her ears, Essek feels as though he’d been rewarded with a monumental gift. He meets Caleb’s gaze – and Caleb smiles sappily at him, as though all he’d ever wanted for his life was Essek and a cat, in this little house, with everyone getting along.

“You see?” Essek says to Gretchen. “I am not so bad.”

She turns around to show him her butthole and trots away with her tail held high. Essek laughs. “Perhaps we still have some ways to go.”

Caleb wraps an arm around his shoulders. “It takes time,” he says sagely, and Essek can do nothing more than laugh exasperatedly and press a kiss to his cheek.

[dent-de-leon]

Kingsley sinking to his knees for both Caleb and Essek. Worshipping his Magician with reverent touches and tender kisses, melting into his arms after being starved for affection for far too long. Adrift in a sea of shattered memories.

The keeper of clandestine trysts taught him prayer was a stolen kiss, laying his heart bare to another under the cover of shadow. Stealing away into his lover's chambers like a thief in the night, warming him all through the bitter Zemnian winter.

Caleb is always soft with him. Gentle. Careful hands combing through his hair, trailing down his spine. Lips pressing soothing kisses along his brow, his freckles, the old scars branching across his throat. Holds Kingsley close enough to hear his beating heart, as though to reassure himself that he is alive and whole. King--Molly--still remembers, is the thing. That moment when Caleb's flicker of magic flowed through him, the first breath of air in his lungs. Caleb willing life back into him.

It makes his Magician's every burning touch feel surreal. Sacred. These gentle, calloused hands that once held his soul. Baring the core of your heart to another is such a heady rush of surrender. Caleb had already witnessed him tear himself apart and stitched back the seams. He held terrifying power over him--yet never once hurt him.

Words are too tricky. Heavy. They lodge in his throat with every tentative touch and warm embrace. Acts of service were familiar, grounding. Easier to swallow than choking on the acrid taste of "sorry"--"Empty"--spilling out over and over. He would rather chase the nightmares away with the fervent passion of a devouring kiss, mouth it over the tender skin of aching wounds. Letting Caleb shower him in love and adoration. Basking in his softness and light until it feels like forgiveness.

Months have passed since Lucien's end. And still the image of his Magician's bloodied body haunts him. Makes him remember why he tore himself apart at the very end. It's gutting, that Caleb deigns to look at him with such warmth, tracing tender hands over every tattoo and scar with enamored reverence.

Essek tries to mirror his motions, still uncertain, still learning the steps in this dance. But King finds it easy to drop a kiss at his forehead, smooth away all the tension from aching, knotted muscle; coax him to rest with a few lingering touches and bated breaths.

And if Caleb cares about him, is happy with him--then King will gladly show his gratitude, whisper his thanks between the barest brush of fingertips and breathless little sighs. Stealing every word from the drow's clever tongue, rendering him dazed and moonstruck.

He thinks he saw the elf before, in the bleeding edges of another stolen memory. Mingling with the sensation of Caleb's lips on his forehead, a strand of hair delicately tucked behind his ear. Everything fading as his body goes cold. He thinks he saw the drow crying. For Caleb. For him. Shedding tears for this stranger he never knew. The monster who tore apart the man they both loved not moments before.

Molly presses the softest kisses to mottled scars where bone wings clawed through. Pours his love into every trembling touch. A warm bath. Silken sheets. A kiss that tastes too much like regret. Fingers clumsily intwined, soft lips on fever warm skin. Devotion as a ritual of loving adoration.

It is an unnerving thing, to be both intimately familiar and a stranger. Yet Caleb still welcomed him into his home. They both let him into their lives. He is here, and he is loved. It's an honor he doesn't dare believe he deserves.

Kingsley soft and sweet and wanting. Nuzzling into the crook of his Magician's neck with a warm rumble in his chest, tail idly curling to trail along Essek's forearm. Caleb absently stroking his hair in immense fondness, murmuring gentle reassurances as King turns prayer into an ardent caress. The soft, breathless chuckle of exasperated adoration. "Good boy."

And when he goes to leave for the night, to disappear like he did back in Darktow, a hand with as many scars as his own reaches for him. Anchoring him. And then there is a lighter touch, Essek rubbing slow, soothing circles at his back.

"Stay," Caleb pleads.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't. An errant memory flickers to the forefront of his mind, lying sprawled out on his back in the bed Caleb made for him--for Mollymauk. Staring up at the riot of color and velvet drapes glinting with silvery moons, the slightly askew portrait of a four-lead-clover hanging in the corner. "I should go," he thinks, this ugly, traitorous part of him. "I can't indulge this weakness any longer--"

Time to run. It's what he does best.

And yet. He doesn't dream when he drifts off in Caleb's arms, doesn't wake screaming with the distant memory of otherworldly black chains. Lucien's blood burning in his veins.

"Just for the night," he concedes.

[stardusted-bookworm]

The Experiment

CW(ish): Pet names used as benign manipulation.

Essek squinted down at the piece of parchment on the table. The equations were starting to swim in front of his eyes, becoming both coherent and indecipherable. Essek was willing to admit, though it irked him to do so, that perhaps he had spent much too long concentrating on this specific Aeorian text. What he was not willing to do, however, was admit defeat. 

“Caleb, love, would you come look at this a moment?” He figured he should take a break soon or suffer the consequences of eye strain at a young age. His eyes lifted to the ceiling of the Tower, attempting to stave off a mild headache. Curse this body that required care to keep it alive. What he wouldn’t give to be able to study this ancient magic forever.

It had been silent for a rather long time. Which was odd considering where he’d last seen the amber-haired wizard. When he didn't hear any movement whatsoever from his partner, Essek peeled his eyes from the ceiling, eyebrows furrowed and more than a little concerned. 

Caleb Widogast was, in fact, exactly in the same spot Essek had left him: sitting on the armchair diagonally to his right. However, instead of the contemplating expression Essek had expected to be focused on Caleb’s own set of Aeorian artifacts, the Zemnian’s eyes all but shimmered as they locked with his own. An immeasurable expression had filled Caleb’s face. An expression so full of emotion, Essek felt his ears begin to heat up.

“What did you just say?” Caleb asked. He moved to the edge of his seat, eyes imploring.

Essek blinked, feeling uncharacteristically nervous under his partner’s stare. “I-I was just wondering if-if you’d be willing to look over this page. A fresh set of eyes may help me uncover these ancient mysteries faster.”

There was a flash of disappointment in Caleb’s eyes, gone before Essek fully registered it was there. And still, the amber-haired wizard slid onto the couch next to the dunamancer, looking at the pages over his shoulder. 

Essek tried to keep his focus as Caleb began pointing out connections he had missed before, but the warmth of Caleb’s body in addition to the brief sadness he’d witnessed on the other’s face made concentration very difficult. What had he said that had disappointed the transmutation specialist? 

Or, Essek wondered, what hadn’t he said?

The dunamantic prodigy analyzed every second of their most recent conversation, working backwards to find the very instance that had triggered the disappointment. Everything he’d said had been in line with how most of their conversations had progressed in the long weeks they’d been exploring Aeor. Everything, he supposed, except for… Oh!

Essek grinned slightly, a plan forming in his mind. An experiment, if you will.

He waited patiently for the perfect moment, a predator stalking its prey, and was rewarded quickly as Caleb turned to him, checking to see if he understood.

“Thank you, love.” Essek said and kissed Caleb’s cheek. “I think I’ll turn in for the night. Let’s pick up here in the morning, hm?”

Caleb’s skin was slowly turning an adorable shade of red when Essek stood up, smirked to himself, and headed up to his room in the Tower. Oh, yes, Essek thought. This will be a most delightful experiment.

. . .

It was several days before Essek decided to conduct the next trial of his experiment. Long enough that Caleb should not catch on to what he was doing. For if Caleb found out too early, it may ruin the experiment, provide him with insufficient results, and, if Essek was being honest with himself, take all the fun out of it.

The two wizards were spending quality time in Caleb’s Rexxentrum home on a lovely spring evening. Of course, one wouldn’t know how lovely it was outside since the house was shaded to provide protection from the sun. A gift that proved there was space carved out for Essek forever, should he want it. And maybe… maybe… Essek was finally ready to accept the silent question.

But first, the Experiment.

“It’s quite beautiful outside,” Essek commented, lazily flipping a page. 

Caleb hummed in response, eyes never leaving his novel.

The wizards sat in armchairs across from each other, tea cold and forgotten on the table between them. It was so easy to forget about simple beverages when enraptured in a book. At this point, Essek didn’t even know why they bothered making tea anymore. 

“I was thinking that perhaps we should take some time to enjoy the sun.” Essek’s tone remained nonchalant, even as he fought back a smile.

Caleb’s head finally rose from his reading, brows scrunched in confusion. “I thought the sun caused you immense discomfort, Schatzi.”

Essek hummed. “Yes, it does.”

“Why would you want to willingly put yourself through pain?”

The drow shrugged. “I’ve heard it best to step out of one’s comfort zone every so often. And…” Essek looked up, an amused grin on his face. “I fear if you stay inside with me any longer, you may simply become a ghost due to a vitamin D deficiency.”

Caleb chuckled a bit at that. “I suppose you are right. But I would rather you not be in pain.”

“Not to worry.” Essek flicked his fingers and opened a pocket dimension. Reaching in, he pulled out the black parasol Jester had drawn for him most recently. “I’ve come prepared! Won’t you join me in the garden on this lovely afternoon, darling?”

Because he was watching for it (for the Experiment of course), Essek saw the moment Caleb’s face flushed red, the color spreading all the way to his ears. His eyes became momentarily unfocused, dilating, and his mouth parted ever so slightly.

Interesting, interesting. 

Essek noted these observations down in his mental journal. Two of his three trials have concluded with the same result. He was well on his way to proving his hypothesis correct.

He mentally patted himself on the back even as his face was the picture of innocence.

“Caleb, are you quite all right?” Essek walked over to the other wizard and placed his hand on his companion’s forehead. “Are you coming down with something?”

Caleb coughed. “N-no. No, no. I am quite well. Here, let me set up for us. I won’t be a moment!”

Without another word, the Zemnian quickly rose from his seat and headed to the garden, seemingly attempting to put space between him and Essek. It made the elf chuckle. He could get used to this kind of treatment.

With that thought, Essek picked up his enchanted parasol and casually strolled to meet up with Caleb in the garden.

. . .

In an unfortunate series of events—namely almost getting caught by the Aurora Watch and the concerning business with the Apogee Solstice—the Experiment was all but forgotten about and laid on the backburner. It was hard to imagine being mischievous when one was running and/or fighting for their lives.

It wasn’t until Essek—pent up and frustrated from constantly looking over his shoulder and the cat now walking all over his papers with inky paws—snapped, “Caleb, my beloved, could you please get the cats out of this room for the next ten minutes?” that he even remembered it existed.

Unfortunately, the way he remembered was less than ideal.

A hand snaked around Essek’s waist from behind, and a low voice whispered in his ear, “Of course, darling. Your wish is my command.”

Essek’s face heat up so fast, it practically broke the sound barrier. His ears twitched as he stared agape at the man currently shooing Johanna off the counter.

“I-I— Caleb?”

Words were, embarrassingly, not functioning for him right now. 

Caleb simply turned back to look at Essek with an evil grin. “You left your notes here last time you stayed over. All of your notes.”

Essek’s brain was still misfiring. He could not comprehend the hidden meanings in Caleb’s words.

Strolling casually toward him, Caleb continued, “I found a rather interesting set of notes entitled ‘The Experiment’.” He stopped a hand’s breadth away from Essek and tilted his face toward the drow. “You wouldn’t happen to know what that’s about, would you?”

Oh… fuck…

Essek had completely forgotten that he had written down his findings from his experiment. It had been habit, considering he does it with every arcane experiment he’d ever conducted. Why wouldn’t he do it with the singular non-arcane experiment?

“I-I-” 

Essek cast Teleport, trying his absolute damndest to get out of this situation. Caleb was never supposed to find out! This is almost literally the worst case scenario. Where did all your confidence go, Thelyss? he asked himself. You were so smug when you knew there was little chance of him finding out!

Oh, well. He supposed he could hide out in Nicodranas for a few days. He was positive Jester would enjoy the company. Fjord would probably protest a little, but he would eventually give in. It would just take a little convincing on Essek’s part. That’s all.

Essek could practically taste the scent of the ocean when magic slammed into his face at point-blank range, his Teleport effectively Counterspelled.

Vith.

“You can’t get away from this conversation so easily, my friend.” Caleb was still smirking down at Essek. “I am not mad, Schatzi. If that’s what you were worried about. I am more amused.”

Essek had covered his face at this point, unwilling to look Caleb in the eye. So, Caleb did the only logical thing. He removed Essek’s hands and kissed the drow’s forehead.

Pulling back, the human said, “We have been married for months, Essek. You don’t need to be so shy about liking to ‘see me flustered’ I believe were your notes. It is cute though.”

Essek gently slammed his head into Caleb’s chest. He was never going to live this down, was he? Oh well. Might as well embrace it.

He lifted his head, hand coming up to curl around the back of Caleb’s neck. Stretching up onto his toes, he whispered in the Zemnian’s ear, “Well then, darling. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind doing the dishes today. Isn’t that right, my dearest love? You would do anything for me right now?”

Caleb cleared his throat, more times than was probably necessary. “Yup. Yes. I will get right on that.”

The transmutation specialist promptly turned around and began doing what he was asked. 

Essek allowed a small grin. Oh, this would be fun.

[aeor-is-for-reccing]

Cultural Differences - Shadowgast Recs

This week, we have twelve fics exploring cultural differences between Caleb and Essek! Read more under the cut.

Careful Steps by chaya (6066, Teen) Warnings: None A pre-episode 97 fic about Essek's attempts at courting Caleb according to both Kryn and Empire customs. Reccer says: It builds a cohesive picture of Kryn rules of courtship and by showing the wizards' interactions through this lens, it manages to express emotion and desire in subtle and often humorous ways.

Widogast 101: Introduction to Bread by ThreeGremlinsInATrenchcoat (2524, General) Warnings: None Caleb finds out that Essek has never eaten bread before, so he brings him a lot of Zemnian breads to try. Reccer says: Caleb is so fascinated with Essek's opinions on the different types of bread. It's very endearing.

my kingdom for a braid by hanap (10998, Teen) Warnings: minor violence Caleb and Essek are the rulers of the Empire and the Dynasty as well as star crossed lovers. When Caleb reaches out, years later, with what he thinks is a romantic gesture, Essek understands it as a declaration of war. Reccer says: It's got dramatic irony! It's got a wonderful breadth of POV characters! It's beautifully written!

In the Interest of Identity by firefright (2232, General) Warnings: None A late night talk on the importance of names. Reccer says: Some lovely pining and Dynasty worldbuilding

Inventory by Operafloozy (3862, Teen) Warnings: None Yasha helps Essek out with some cultural misunderstandings, and also packing. Reccer says: Great worldbuilding and voices - it's about Essek and Caleb's relationship, but also Essek and Yasha and how they relate to the Dwendalians in their lives.

the apple of one’s eye by saturdaysky (1286, Teen) Warnings: None Essek gifts Caleb a very authentic traditional Zemnian garment. Or so he thinks. Reccer says: Hilarious, sweet, and surprisingly hot! It’s a quick read but a memorable one.

gilded by renquise (1949, Teen) Warnings: None A deliciously horny little fic with an old dynasty courting custom at the centre. Reccer says: For such a short little fic, the world and the characters feel so rich and lived in. Super hot as well as tender and sweet and a treat for hand kink havers!

And All the Trifles, Sweet and Frail by Interrobang (2329, Explicit) Warnings: Trans Essek-- this fic includes vaginal fingering. Drow have certain customs about handwear and hand-to-hand contact. By Kryn standards, Caleb is a bit of a trollop. Reccer says: Excellent sense of tension and sensuality, but also, the fact Essek finds handholding to be Extremely Scandalous is SUPER funny to me.

Appetites by portraitofemmy (1793, Explicit) Warnings: None Essek muses on the voracious nature of humans. Reccer says: Lush, indulgent, and gorgeous

In My Head, I'm Yours by Marmeladeskies (31346, Teen) Warnings: no warnings “I… my Den’s annual meeting is coming up, and I need a plus one, to put it simply.” “You need someone to pretend to be your daaaaaaaate?” Essek brings Caleb as his "fake" date to a family reunion. Feels and shenanigans ensue. Reccer says: I love the in-depth depiction of the Dynasty as a matriarchy, and thus Essek as a male drow has to put up with much of the same bullshit that female-presenting humans do. The flipped social dynamics are super interesting to me.

For these last two, we had multiple recs each for them:

Indecency by RainyDayDecaf (5898, Teen) Warnings: None Caleb and Essek keep accidentally performing courtship rituals from the other's culture Reccer 1 says: A really adorable 6+1 fic, super cute and sweet Reccer 2 says: It's just very cute and fluffy. The boys are in love and stupid about it at times. Reccer 3 says: The wizards are flirting and pining and blushing and accidentally going WAY TOO FAR with their intended gestures because of cultural differences. It's soft and sweet and funny and like a warm hug.

In the Closet of our Discretion by Firefright (12280, Mature) Warnings: None Caleb gets a hands-on lesson on how the many layers of Dynasty formalwear. By taking it off Essek. Reccer 1 says: I love the worldbuilding inherent in it, along with the wonderful build-up of tension as Caleb removes each layer. Reccer 2 says: Such a good study of dynasty clothing. Reccer 3 says: Well written, romantic, and sexy! Reccer 4 says: If you like costume porn or headcanons about the Dynasty having pseudo-Victorian modesty standards, then this is the fic for you. Disclaimer: despite my costume porn description, there is no actual smut in this, though it does have one of the hottest disrobing scenes I've ever read.

Have some questions? Wonder who's doing this? Check out our FAQ, and look for us next week, when we'll have a new rec list centered around canon divergent AU's!

[randoimago]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request a Caleb Widogast x reader confessing feelings while him and the reader are stargazing? Congratulations on 3000 follows by the way!

Brighter Than Any Star

Fandom: Critical Role

Character(s): Caleb Widogast

Type of Request: 3,000 Followers Oneshots

Note(s): Thank you!! Ngl I wrote this at work when the idea suddenly came to me. I did my best editing it when I got home but I hope you like it!!

It's a peaceful night outside. Inside, it's rowdy as the group drinks and parties, Beau even started an arm wrestling contest. But outside, it's quiet and serene.

Caleb went outside to get some fresh air and you followed, not wanting him to be alone. When Caleb is alone, he gets lost in his thoughts like a maze. And you know him well enough to know that those thoughts aren't always the most pleasant.

So you stand next to him, leaning against a bannister, as you both stare at the clear, night sky and watch the stars twinkling. It's a peaceful silence between you and your friend. But the silence also causes you to become wrapped in your own thoughts of "what ifs". And the main point of interest in those "what if" thoughts is the man standing next to you.

"Do you think Exandria is as flat as Veth claims it to be?" You ask Caleb. You know Veth's words are bull, but it's an easy topic to start a discussion. Especially when it's met with the amused chuckle from Caleb.

"Do you look up at that sky and think that this world is flat? That there's nothing above us and it's just an illusion?" Caleb retorts with a small smile on his lips. That smile causes you to feel more warmth than a falling star.

"I know that this moment could never be an illusion," you respond and Caleb gives a hum at your words. A light pink graces his face and it's prettier than any twinkling star above you.

It's a pleasant silence between you two, but this time you're sneaking glances at Caleb instead of keeping your eyes on the sky above you. You think you're being clever, that he doesn't notice. But he does. He might not notice as much as Caduceus, but Caleb always notices you.

"You keep looking at me," he says with a gentle tone. He's not accusing you, but he still lets you know that it's what he noticed. You start to feel a bit flustered at being caught in the act, but you sigh.

"I have," you admit. Maybe it's because it's just the two of you here in this moment or maybe it's because of the comfort you always feel in his presence. But a surge of confidence hits you and you make eye contact.

"I'm in love with you," you tell the wizard. He seems taken aback by your sudden claim and you feel that confidence dwindling a bit as you glance away from your friend. “I didn’t mean to fall for you.”

You're figuring out how to explain yourself. You're trying to come up with words as to why you're in love with him, hoping he acts and doesn't reject you outright.

“And neither did I.”

You don't want to lose him due to you confessing your feelings. You don't want things to change for the worse because of that misplaced courage. You haven't processed what the fuck he had just said.

“…Fucking pardon?”  You can't help but blurt out when his words hit you like a meteor storm. You were deep in your thoughts of "what if" that you didn't hear the answer to one of your thoughts.

Caleb gives an amused smile as the blush on his face had deepened to a more prominent red on his pale skin tone. "I have also fallen for you," he tells you, his zemnian accent soft as if not to scare you away

It's another silence this time as you process what has just been said. But this time, the silence feels like it's on a time limit. Like one of you has to do something or it'll just remain an empty "what if".

But instead of thinking of this moment as a "what if" in the future, you focus on the present as your lips connect with his and his hands hold yours.

Two bright stars twinkle overheard, a constellation devoted to lovers celebrate this new step you and Caleb have made.

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

Chapter 6: Loss (Waiting for Heartbreak)

Summary: When Essek's mother insists that it's time for him to marry, he thinks he's doomed to spend the remainder of his life in a loveless marriage. That is until Caleb volunteers to pretend to be his fiance until Essek can find another solution. Link to first chapter

I was so excited for this chapter, I just couldn't wait to share it!

Essek’s trance finishes in the middle of the night. 

He opens his eyes and looks at the man sleeping beside him. Caleb is still sound asleep, his back still turned to Essek. Moving slowly, Essek reaches for his book and opens up to where he left off. He is able to read for an hour or so. 

In that time, his thoughts keep wandering back to Caleb and the dance they shared. He can’t stop thinking about the solid press of Caleb’s hands against him and the ease that Caleb guided them around the dance floor. He wants nothing more than to revisit that moment, to have the courage to kiss Caleb then and there.

Essek freezes. Kissing has never been something he desires, never a sensation that he craved and yet… Would Caleb’s beard be soft or scratchy against his skin? Which would Essek even prefer? Suddenly, Essek feels all too much like a teenager, mooning over a crush. 

Essek thumps the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying to get rid of those thoughts. Thankfully, a distraction comes. Beside him, Caleb starts to move. At first, Essek thinks that Caleb is awake, but after a moment it becomes clear that he is in the throes of sleep.

Caleb curls in on himself, taking up even less space than he already does. Then he starts to talk, murmuring in Zemnian. “Bitte, meine Schuld.” The words repeat over and over, becoming clearer and clearer. Not for the first time, Essek wishes he could study the language if only to understand Caleb in moments of panic.

 Essek puts down his book and moves to his knees beside him. He reaches out and touches Caleb’s shoulder, “Caleb? It’s just a dream.”

The second his fingers touch Caleb, the man wakes up with a lurch. He gasps for air like a dying man. Essek touches his back again, but Caleb flinches. It’s then that Essek remembers Caleb is a human, he doesn’t have darkvision. With a swirl of his wrist, he summons light, casting long shadows across the room. 

Caleb’s eyes are wide, darting around the room. He is breathing heavily, as though he was running a marathon. His fingers grip his forearms, knuckles white. “Wo bin ich?” 

Essek shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Caleb curls tighter in on himself, as if to shield himself from a blow. “You’re safe, we’re in Rosohna.”

Caleb looks up at him, “Astrid?”

Read the rest on ao3!

[astravates]

this will probably be the first in a long line of posts over time, but today i was thinking about creating a headcanon breakdown of what i think caleb's bg3 verse tower would look like + all the various companion rooms. it feels a bit daunting to do it all at once, so instead, i'm going to break it down for whenever the inspiration hits.

first up is actually not bg3 verse related at all and it's essek's room!!

we never got to see essek's room in the campaign, but caleb would put it on the 7th floor of the tower near his room. he would design it to closely resemble what he remembers of essek's home in the dynasty. very luxurious and elegant with an added mural of the rosohna cityscape at night. of course, there will be tons of books and a desk for essek should he need it. in the wood of the bookshelf or bed frame, there are also a lot of subtle dunamantic glyphs and design elements etched in.

assuming they end up together in this verse, over time caleb and essek's rooms would eventually morph together with a combination of zemnian and dynasty design.

[critrolesideblog]

"Essek, won't you come join us?" Jester was smiling at him as she walked up the beach toward him, her fangs gleaming in Catha's silvery moonlight. She was just outside of the fire glow, but Essek could clearly see her tail swishing mischievously behind her, the same way a cat's does when it's spotted its prey. He smiled at her affectionately.

"No."

"Awww, c'mon, man! Everyody's doing it!" She gestured broadly to the beach around them.

It was true that the shores of Nicodranas were quite crowded for the early midnight hour, which at least disproved Essek's earlier suspicion that this New Dawn tradition might be an elaborate prank. If it was, they had managed to get all of Nicodranas in on it.

He had happily participated in many of the Nein's varied New Dawn traditions over the course of the night. They had eaten long noodles for dinner (a Zadashian tradition adopted by Yasha) and apples dipped in honey (a Zemnian tradition). They had found kisses at midnight and released floating, paper lanterns into the sky festooned with wishes for the new year (Nicodranian and Kryn traditions respectively). But he was not jumping into the Lucidian Ocean in the middle of winter.

Absolutely not.

"It's good luck!" Jester insisted.

"I make my own luck." He replied smugly and took a sip from his cup of steaming rice wine.

"But this is luck you don't have to make."

"At the cost of catching my death of cold? No, thank you."

"CAY-LEB!" She shouted back over her shoulder.

"Ja?" Caleb's voice floated on the sea breeze, breathless.

"Tell your boyfriend, high risk, high reward!"

Essek choked on his wine as Caleb's laughter roared in with waves.

"It's not even that cold." She was leaning over him now, firelight shining in her eyes, dripping fat droplets of icy, salt water onto his new cloak. He tried to lean back away from her, prestidigitating the water away with a noise of annoyance.

"I seem to recall that you didn't think Eiselcross was that cold, and I remember what you were wear--" It was then that he noticed the curious, rising flow of water trailing behind her, blurred into the blue light of the night by her swishing tail until that moment. "Jester, no--"

Splash! The water crashed into him, drenching him and paralyzing him for a moment with cold.

"There!" Jester cackled. "Now, you've got good luck for your travels!"

"Jester!"

"If you want to get me back, you'll have to come into the water after me!" She called in her singsong voice as she half-danced, half-ran back toward the water.

"I will get you back, Jester Lavorre! Just you wait!" He called after her, laughing in spite himself as he prestidigitated himself dry.

[deathbydarkelves]

CONSTANTLY fighting the temptation to start writing Human in my fics as German. Like, I'd translate it to English if the POV character understands it, but I want to use the German I know in some way, plus it fits with the western/central European vibes Blizzard used for humans. And Critical Role did that with Zemnian lmao which in my head justifies it.

Here's an excerpt from a one shot in a night elf's POV:

She ran past a cluster of tents and jumped over the body of a half-dressed soldier, their eye sockets raw and empty, lips torn to bloody ribbons. Human words Runa had come to recognize echoed behind her.

“We’re under attack!”

“Night elves! Nigh-“ A gargled scream, then a thud.

----

And, like... if I just switch that to German:

She ran past a cluster of tents and jumped over the body of a half-dressed soldier, their eye sockets raw and empty, lips torn to bloody ribbons. Human words Runa had come to recognize echoed behind her.

“Wir werden angegriffen!”

“Nachtelfen! Nach-“ A gargled scream, then a thud.

----

I dunno, I like how it looks and sounds. An English speaker can guess what "Nachtelfen" means, maybe not "wir werden angegriffen", but context gives you an idea for sure. It doesn't mean anything good lol

I occasionally use Darnassian words untranslated even when the POV is a night elf, and that's most likely what I'd do with this. And they're not necessarily diagetically speaking German, it's more like a proxy for Common/Human (which, y'know... isn't a full conlang). Just like how my elves aren't diagetically speaking English, I just write in English because, uh... people need to understand your story to read it lmao

Anyway, that's a thought that keeps coming back. I really love German as a language, I love how it looks and sounds, and want to use it. Also it helps break the illusion that this is a "common tongue/lingua franca" if it's not even the language of the majority of the text. It "others" it, which works in my favor when I'm writing characters for whom it is not their first language.

[demigoddessqueens]

Hi! I've been hyperfixating on the M9 lately and came across Faun's music again after several years and I immediately thought of Caleb whilst listening to it. I was wondering if you could do headcannons of Caleb reacting to the reader singing and dancing to Zemnian music? If not, that's okay! No worries!

Oh Caleb! My sweet, sweet red-head mage 🔥 ❤️‍🔥

It’s a bittersweet experience for him, remembering the life he had before. Before Trent, and the Mighty Nein

He hears you humming it one day, unbeknownst to you it’s a melody that his mother sang to him one time.

You see his eyes gloss over as he excuses himself and you don’t think much of it at first

Another time, all of you and the Nein are passing through a town with a troupe performing.

Caught up in the moment, you and Jester start dancing and leading the others

Yet Caleb is looking at you with a sorrowful smile, as if you hung the moon and stars, as if you hold his heart in your hands but he could never fault you for breaking it

Later that night, when you ask him about it, he divulges all that you’ve wondered about his past.

From that moment on, you have a closer understanding of each other, and if you’re ever humming a Zemnian hymn or swaying to it, he’s there with open arms to dance with you

“I didn’t mind them then, Lieblin, but you make these songs prettier”

[aeruthien]

Now we've seen Whitestone, I want to comment on Culture in Critical Role, and how there are some fundamental aspects of DnD which make it unsuitable for exploring cultural differences.

I've seen some very valid posts about how Marquet in C3 isn't used to its full potential as a cultural setting, among others because most of the PCs are not native to Marquet. But while I fully agree, I want to broaden the argument even further: neither were Wildemount, Xhorhas or Tal'dorei.

I believe that Dungeons and Dragons is ill equipped to explore cultural differences, because there are key aspects of culture that it actively ignores: language, food and weather.

To start with language. In almost all versions of DnD or fantasy, everyone speaks common. This solves one of the main issues in world building, because it allows the players to travel the world without the issues that stem from not speaking a language. However, language is one of the main tools people use to distinguish themselves from others. Language, accent, tone, vocabulary and even grammar change based on who you are, where you come from and whom you're speaking to. But because everyone in Exandria speaks English like the cast do, they have a uniform culture, whether they are from Wildemount, Tal'dorei or Marquet. Even Caleb, who comes closest to breaking this pattern, is not truly Zemnian, because Liam (and Matt) doesn't actually speak German. Apart from the German accent and some German words, he doesn't speak like a non native German English speaker would.

Next up, food. Apart from some quick mentions of breakfast or dinner, food is almost always an afterthought. The Bell's Hells do not stop for lunch, and rations are almost never a problem. However, food is intrinsically linked to culture. What food is served, when food is served, and with whom food is eaten differs from place to place and from class to class. Is the food imported or is it grown locally? Is food served at 6PM sharp or much later? Do you eat with the whole family and is there always a surplus or do you have to fight for the scraps? What is the street food like? What spices are used? How does Xhorhas' cuisine differ from Wildemount, given that they live in perpetual night? But ultimately, the pie in Marquet is no different from the pie in Byroden, because again, the default will be the casts' default.

Finally, weather. While it might seem arbitrary, weather influences almost all aspects of our lives, from our homes, to our clothes, to our relationships. Is it warm enough to sit outside during the evening? This will encourage parties and late bedtimes. It is cold and rainy? People will sit inside pubs to stay warm. Colder and warmer climates, hot and dry climates, each of these influence when people are active and how they behave. Apart from the extremes, like the snow in Eiselcross, or the heat in the Fire Plane, the characters never have to deal with rain, or mist, or cold. They don't have to take shelter, they don't wake up cold, they don't need to keep a fire going or set up tents. And as such, there is no difference between a warm and hot jungle surrounding Jrusar or a high mountain trail in Zephrah, nor are the people who live there different.

There can be much more said about each of these three aspects of culture, and there are probably more examples to be given. And this is not intended as a excuse, or a reason for Matt not to try better. But sadly, DnD as a system glosses over most of the day-to-day interactions that make a city a particular city, or a culture a particular culture. And the default will always be the players' default.

[demenior]

Happy wip wednesday, here's more Fealty au. I think this counts as flirting for the boys:

“Hello, I am Antoine Vane, and I am from Marquet” Eadwulf repeats in a bad Marquesian accent.

Fjord shakes his head, “you still sound like you’re making fun of them.”

Eadwulf pouts, “I’m good at accents.”

“Maybe they sounded good up north, but not down here with the locals,” Fjord says, “what about Stillben? In Taldorei? Can you try that?” and he drops his voice to imitate Vandran’s drawl, “it sounds a bit more like this. You move slower through a conversation. Makes people wanna listen to you.”

“A bit more like this,” Eadwulf tries.

Fjord grimaces. It’s almost as bad as Caleb’s attempts.

“What about my normal voice?” Fjord switches back.

“Do I sound like you?” Eadwulf asks. His voice pitches up a half tone, but retains the low notes that Fjord likes. It’s strange to hear him without his heavy Zemnian accent, “yes, yes. I can maintain this. Hello, I’m Antoine Vane, and I find pirates very sexy.”

“How can you joke?” Fjord wonders.

“Because this is fun,” Eadwulf scoffs, maintaining the accent, “we are on the hunt! This is a good night. A night to finish plans. That is something to be glad about.”

“I can’t believe we're doing this,” Fjord admits.

Eadwulf pauses, outside the tavern. Music and loud voices spill out onto the street.

“It will be over sooner than you think,” Eadwulf warns, tone serious, “savor it while you can.”

[dent-de-leon]

Caleb telling scary stories and classic Zemnian folktales around a roaring fire, the Nein all huddled close in the chilling autumn night. Flames flare and dance in a shower of sparks, shapeshifting into flickering silhouettes as Caleb weaves his tales, casting lengthening shadows that twist and writhe in the encroaching darkness. Amber globules gently drifting through the air, lingering like ghost lights.

Frumpkin purrs as she winds between Caleb's legs. Veth's Mage Hand tentatively reaches out to make a grab for Fjord's drink. Jester squeals in both delight and terror and pleads with Caleb, asking him for just one more story. And Mollymauk always loved a good story.

He hangs onto every word, captivated by that soft lilting voice and mischievous grin, the light in Caleb's eyes when he's lost in all the magic of childhood fairytales on moonlit nights. When his stories veer into accounts of the waking dead and restless spirits, his gaze inevitably darts back to Mollymauk. Voice starts to break with an awed fear and reverence, a wistful melancholy. And Molly can tell the man has always taken comfort in ghost stories.

It isn't until everyone else is fast asleep that Molly strolls over to his Magician's side, mumbling about the cold and laying his head on Caleb's shoulder. It's second nature to press a kiss to his flushed, freckled cheek, to cuddle closer even though the beard is a little prickly.

Mollymauk's close to nodding off, but before he drifts off to sleep, he combs his claws through copper hair and asks to hear more about ghosts and ghouls and any late night terror the wizard's magnificent imagination could conjure. His eyes slip shut like that, to the lull of Caleb's soft, soothing voice, wrapped in a warm embrace.