All the world's a maze

Perfecting their form

“Stand up straight, Widogast.”

A flicker of movement from under his raised bicep: the trajectory a knife would take on its way between his ribs. But perhaps more surprisingly, it was Essek’s hand, sliding past mortal injury and coming to rest flat against Caleb’s sternum, elegant rings glinting. When Essek pressed lightly there, Caleb was so distracted that he did in fact straighten up.

“Good."

The word hovered close to his ear, breath against the nape of his neck, and Caleb wanted to say something — to crack a joke, maybe, about keeping focus, but he didn’t want to break the two-fold spell weaving between them, only one part of which was arcane. Essek paced another step behind him, circling, audible with his feet on the floor for once. His hand slipped away, trailing slightly - quick enough to be unintentional, but Essek was a man who was constantly aware of personal space and deliberate in how he moved.

Caleb swallowed. With practiced movements, he progressed into the next somatic configuration of looped platinum thread.

It was fingertips behind his elbow next, lifting his arm a fraction higher. A floorboard creaked under Essek’s boot as he passed by Caleb’s other side. His presence and the weight of his attention was as tangible as touch, and more maddening still when accompanied by these too-brief tastes of it. The hairs on the back of Caleb’s neck stood up.

"Now, the last,” Essek directed, finally standing square in front of him. He lifted his arms a few inches to the side, palms forward, an eyebrow lifted in challenge: an open target.

Smooth as breath, power crackling like a thunderstorm, Caleb sliced the arc of the final somatics. The cord in his hands became light, became liquid, lashing around them both — through them both — and pulling taut. Tension sang on some frequency Caleb hadn’t known existed, remaining even as the light faded to a slim thread between their chests before vanishing entirely.

Tilting his head, Essek traced the spot on his own chest. “You do not need to put quite so much into it,” he said, eyes quicksilver and smug. “But that is the idea, yes.”

Caleb stood there, vibrating with the frission of this new arcane energy and the infuriating potentiality of the last few minutes. “So. Everything you feel, I feel, and the other way around? Is that it?”

“More or less.”

“Fascinating,” Caleb replied.

“Indeed.”

The charged moment hung between them in silence for a beat too long, reality not yet caught up with all they might become. Caleb was the one who finally took a step forward, and Essek’s shoulders pulled back at his approach, his chin lifting, their positions abruptly reversed. Within the boundary of Essek’s space, and yet not touching, Caleb savored his next words on his tongue before he spoke.

“I should copy this now, ja? May I borrow your spellbook?”

Essek blinked, and his throat bobbed. “Of course." The spellbook appeared with a gesture.

Caleb took it carefully from the air, its embossed leather a familiar texture. ”Danke, my friend.“ And he left to sit at their shared table with a smile curling the corners of his mouth.

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Anonymous asked:

8 for shadowgast?

#8 - brushing hands by accident

Caleb has come to realize that he has a problem.

The thing is, ever since Essek joined the Mighty Nein, Caleb has had to adjust to the presence of another wizard. Another wizard who has similar habits and interests in the arcane. Another wizard who supplies the group with knowledge and spell-work. Another wizard who buys up all the paper in any town they visit.

He likes Essek. He cares for Essek. He enjoys a great deal of their newfound closeness. He imagines that someday, when the wound of Essek’s betrayal finally begins to scar over, they might be something more than friends whose gazes linger much longer than is appropriate. Caleb has always been a romantic.

There is nothing romantic, however, about brushing hands while collecting fresh bat guano for spell components.

“Oh, sorry,” Essek mutters, withdrawing.

“It’s no trouble,” Caleb tells him, wiping his hand on a rag. “I have been covered in far worse.”

Essek raises his eyebrows, his look mildly disbelieving.

“By and large, people do not pay attention to filthy creatures,” Caleb explains shortly. “There was a time in my past when I did not want to be seen.” His mouth lilts into a self-deprecating smile. “You are lucky you met me later. I smell much better now.”

He scrubs again with the rag, but to be truly clean he’ll have to wait until they pass by the river outside to wash his hands.

“Allow me,” Essek says, and casts a neat Prestidigitation. Every trace of the guano disappears. The dirt under his fingernails is also gone, and wrinkles at his shirt cuffs have vanished. Out of all the magic users Caleb has ever met, Essek casts the finest, most powerful, and most nuanced Prestidigitation he has ever seen. He hasn’t told him as such. It feels like a silly compliment.

“Thank you,” Caleb says.

“It is no trouble.”

“You know, before, I did not miss Prestidigitation at all,” Caleb confides, looking at his clean hands, his mind slipping unbidden into memories. “I was content to have learned other things. But now…” he shakes his head. “It is funny how priorities can change.”

“Lucky, then, that there is another wizard nearby who knows it well,” Essek tells him, brushing against Caleb’s hand again - on purpose this time, Caleb thinks - as he straightens a shirt cuff that absolutely does not need any straightening. There is fondness in the set of his mouth. “You need simply ask.”

“I will,” Caleb replies. He is surprised to find that he means it.

ariadne writes CR shadowgast essek thelyss caleb widogast critical role tumblr snippets ask memes physical affection prompts op

Anonymous asked:

physical affection prompt 24 for shadowgast?

#24 - confusing a handshake for a fist bump

Essek maintains that he is not to blame for this particular misunderstanding.

Since joining the Mighty Nein, he has been learning a tidal wave of new information every day - not spells or arcane history, but a million details about who the Mighty Nein are, and how they get along, and why this motley band of mercenaries has forged a familial bond more unshakable than any Den of Rosohna. It is hard to absorb. Hard to keep straight.

Yesterday, he had said something to make Beau laugh, and she had made the peculiar gesture of offering him a closed fist.

“What, will you strike me down for my sense of humor?” he had chuckled, trying to mask some real nervousness. He’d seen Beau’s version of play-fighting with several of the others, and the ‘play’ part seemed… optional. (Perhaps they were cavalier due to the presence of two clerics?)

“Nah, it’s a fist-bump. Here. You do this,” she’d said, curling his hand into a fist and lightly bopping hers against it. “Nice.”

“It’s a compliment?” Essek had clarified.

“Yeah, I guess,” Beau had shrugged.

And that had been a new tidbit filed away in his brain. Tactile Ways The Mighty Nein Express Care For Each Other, Volume 1. Caduceus patting Jester’s shoulder as he brought her a cup of tea. Fjord trapping Veth in his armpit and mussing her hair (and Veth biting him in return). Beau giving this “fist bump” as a sign of good will.

But: back to the misunderstanding. Here and now, Essek is learning the consequences of trying to absorb a large amount of information at once.

Caleb has invited him to co-invent some minor spell modifications. They’re making use of Caleb’s ample Tower library, elbow-to-elbow as they comb through books and write down prototype sigils for testing. Essek loves Caleb’s Tower, not just because it is part of Caleb, but because one of the only things he misses about Rosohna is a scholarly space to sit and think.

(”What has happened to these pages?” Essek asks, pointing at where an arcane theory book has devolved into several pages of gibberish. Caleb shifts on his feet, rubs the back of his neck. “Ah. I may have been… enjoying a bit of drink while I read that one.” Essek doesn’t bother to suppress his amusement.)

It is a wonderful time. It feels very… intimate, to read books Caleb has reconstructed purely from memory. The mind he has - it’s incredible. Essek’s equal, he thinks. He feels matched in their efforts to invent new spell features, each of them pushing the other into new conclusions, new discoveries.

In this case, it’s Essek who happens upon the winning configuration for their spell.

Caleb offers him a smile and a handshake.

Essek, brain steeped in too much information, misfires and brings forth his recent lesson from Beau. He bops his closed fist awkwardly against Caleb’s knuckles before his brain can catch up.

There is a bemused snort from Caleb.

“Ah-!” Essek panics, and goes for the proper handshake right as Caleb adjusts to close his fist. Essek’s open hand closes over it. They fumble again. And a third time.

“This is worse than when the others play three-way Boulder Parchment Shears,” Caleb says, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “O-kay! Start again. We are two very intelligent wizards, who can surely accomplish a simple gesture. Pick one, and I will match it.”

Essek could repeat the fist-bump, to show off what he’s learned from Beau, but… he’d rather not waste this opportunity on something so fleeting. He puts out his hand, open.

Caleb shakes it somberly. “Very well done, Mister Thelyss,” he intones, and Essek knows him well enough now to identify the dry humor underneath.

“Thank you, Mister Widogast,” Essek returns, equally grave.

If they take a little too long to let go, well, Essek is certainly not to blame for that either.

ariadne writes CR critical role essek thelyss caleb widogast shadowgast tumblr snippets ask memes whoops caught a few typos physical affection prompts

Caleb is grinning, flushed with exertion and Diamond Plum wine, as he offers Essek his hand like a prize. "Come, friend, what is the use of all those pretty robes if you aren’t going to give them a twirl?“

Essek will never tire of Caleb calling him friend. The offer, though, is one he shouldn’t accept.

"I am afraid I do not know the steps to such… Empire dances,” Essek demurs, painfully aware of the many judging eyes that might be on them. It wouldn’t do for him to make a fool of himself.

His attention lingers wistfully on the precious crinkles at the corners of Caleb’s eyes, at the tiny beads of sweat clinging to his temples. At the way his chest is rising and falling like a bellows after pulling Veth onto the dance floor just minutes before. Caleb is a whirlwind Essek wishes he could get swept up in.

This tempting vision is abruptly much closer as Caleb leans down to Essek’s ear - Essek can feel the heat coming off of him, his proximity. “No one will know if you cheat,” Caleb whispers, like it’s some delicious secret.

Essek huffs, flustered. He could subtly float through the steps, true, but with Caleb holding him as familiarly as the dance requires, he’s bound to get distracted and muck it up anyway. "Ah, I am not sure–“

"Dance with me,” Caleb implores, straightening up and offering his hand again. “Just once, and then I will leave you alone, I promise."

Essek takes a breath, and lets it out. ”…Very well,“ he agrees. He sounds nervous, even to his own ears.

Caleb beams at him and tugs him to the edge of the floor where other couples are spinning lazily like pinwheels on a summer day. He gives Essek’s hand a reassuring squeeze, and guides him into the peculiar half-embrace of the dance. Essek has to stop himself from leaning into it like a hug.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” Caleb murmurs.

The words suffuse warmth all the way down Essek’s spine. All at once, he doesn’t particularly care whether he dances well or not, or who sees him. Some things are worth more than his pride.

ariadne writes CR shadowgast essek thelyss caleb widogast critical role tumblr snippets inspired by talks of ballroom dancing on ETFC because Caleb is a notorious tipsy dance-encourager it would no doubt someday be Essek's turn op

@kuipereris was talking on the ETFC about how wizards flirt with outrageous academic language, and so I had to write a Shadowgast thing. Because them doing that is… well, basically canon.

Caleb rubs his chin, examining the incomplete spell design on the table between him and Essek. The hour is late in the afternoon, and two forgotten cups of tea are cooling amidst the chaos of papers and books.

“Hm, you know, this reminds me of a treatise I read once on partial transmutation iterations, where the end results were not unrecognizable, but instead variegated between the two ideal states: the starting material, and what it was intended to become. Their features combined but still distinct. It was long ago, when I was coming up in the Empire, but I remember it well.”

Across from him, Essek elegantly inclines his head.

“Ah, I believe I have read the same treatise. Azarus’s Analysis of Chimeric Reactions, yes? Fascinating, though I found I disagreed with his conclusions about the cross-discipline implications in other schools of magic. Transmutation energy may manifest like weft on a loom, and its components like, what is the Common word? Warp thread, that is the one. A fitting term for transmutation, I must say, and a linguistic parallel that does not appear in Undercommon. But in dunamancy there is too much raw possibility to be represented by only one schema of construction, and certainly not one so predictable as weaving.”

Caleb looks up at him, surprise and delight flickering over his face.

“…You have read Azarus?”

“As I say.” Essek smiles, eyes slightly hooded. “The Marble Tomes are quite extensive.”

Caleb leans on his elbow, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Hm. To your point, then - you know, there is a phenomenon when electricity or lightning strikes an object of pure, solid resin. The strike is singular - one point of contact - but upon impact it fractures into smaller and smaller pathways through the resin. The final shape is like roots of a tree, or, if inverted, like a tree itself. It could represent the infinite factors culminating in a single decision, or the infinite impacts of making such a choice, depending on your perspective. I would find that to be a more fitting schema for dunamancy. One of many, perhaps, but far more fitting than a loom or weaving. Would you agree?”

Essek hums, considering, intently holding Caleb’s gaze. His fingers tap on the tabletop.

“My. That is… Hm. I like that. Yes.”

(What Caleb describes is called a Lichtenberg Figure. They’re super dope.)

shadowgast caleb widogast essek thelyss critical role critical role fic ariadne writes CR tumblr snippets they are MASSIVE nerds okay op

the usual

Shadowgast, Rated G, 573 words, prompt: late night takeout

“We should perhaps take a break.”

“We are getting somewhere, though.” Caleb stood and cracked his back. A topographic map of papers, open books, and component jars was laid out on the floor before them.

“We are,” Essek agreed. “But if we keep going, it will be several more hours before we pause a second time, and I may begin chewing on parchment to sustain myself.”

As if on cue, Caleb’s stomach gave a loud gurgle. He ruefully put his hands on his middle. “Ach, you’ve woken the beast. Well. I suppose you are right. Do you have food here, or should we go out?”

Essek straightened his robes and neatened his hair with an effortless wave of Prestidigitation. “The night is warm. Let us walk. I know a place.” He twisted a ring on his finger and his image shimmered, though to Caleb - who wore a second, matching ring - he still looked like himself.

(“You know it is an Empire tradition to marry with an exchange of rings,” Caleb had teased him, accepting the plain copper band. Only a Detect Magic would reveal it as enchanted. Essek had looked a little embarrassed, but shrugged it away. “I only wish for you to see me as I am. You don’t have to take it.” And Caleb, warmed, had put the ring directly on his finger and it had been there ever since.)

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thanks for the prompt jess! <3 critical role tumblr snippets shadowgast ariadne writes CR my personal interpretation is that shadowgast probably wouldn't focus on something like marriage in their actual post-canon life so it's fun to sort of write around its outline to show that they don't need vows or formality to be as close as they are (note - this is not commentary on what people should/shouldn't write in fic! i've written them married in other ficlets)

For the combination of two prompts:

“headache relief” and “a truly abysmal cup of tea”

Shadowgast, rated G, hurt/comfort, 833 words

Essek’s visits to Caleb’s cottage in Rexxentrum were brief, and precious; despite their shared expertise in dunamancy, there never seemed to be enough time. And so when Essek arrived one windy spring morning, but could not concentrate on their shared research, and shied away with a wince from the meager light filtering through the shuttered windows, Caleb felt even more urgency to remedy whatever ailed him. Not just so that Essek would be well, but because these narrow hours were all they had to express the full spectrum of anything and everything they might have to say to each other.

There was Sending, yes, and Essek was talented in layering many things into few words. But Caleb found he yearned to make and share space, and to see the gallery of Essek’s expressions play across his sharp-toothed mouth, his elegant brows, his clever eyes.

This pained, stubborn expression was a new one on his dear friend, and Caleb cataloged it feverishly in his memory even as he sought its antidote.

“It’s nothing,” Essek demurred, when Caleb pressed. “A slight headache."

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thank you sky for the prompts! i went with some nice simple comfort vibes the tea is inspired by the iron supplement I have to take it's truly godawful and I make faces every time I drink it tumblr snippets shadowgast critical role op ariadne writes CR

Anonymous asked:

For the AU thing, Shadowgast and the most tragic thing you can think of

Hmmmmm tragedy can have many angles, but I think the core of Shadowgast’s canonical ending is that they each choose to accept their mistakes and try to build the future, rather than rewrite the past. I think a nice Canon Divergence AU tragedy could be built on the inverse of that: Caleb or Essek or both being consumed enough by guilt that they DO decide to rewrite the past - even working together to do it as a pair! - but that when time resettles to the present day their changes have had disastrous consequences. Perhaps Caleb’s carefully thought-out plan would have worked in isolation, but in trying to change Essek’s past also, everything spirals out of control. There are new problems to fix. The Mighty Nein and their story together are slipping between their fingers as small changes become big changes become irreparable losses. Too many attempts tampering with time, and their original timeline and everything they had come to love is warped or destroyed. It’s only them left in the ashes, together, but empty, and full of pain.

“We should rewrite each other,” Essek says into the grey morning, his breath a cloud of vapor. It’s cold here in Eiselcross, but also stable. It’s much older then either of them. “One last change. Destroy our tether to memories of past timelines. Maybe it will… reset this. We cannot invent temporal translocation if we never meet.”

Caleb doesn’t look at him. “You just don’t want to live with what we have done.”

The noise Essek makes is a laugh in the same way a gut wound is extra ventilation. “Can you blame me?”

[send me an AU and I’ll share the plot of the fic I’ll never write!]

thank you this was fun! AU ask meme asks shadowgast ariadne writes CR critical role angst tumblr snippets

For a prompt from @lakrisrot

a tell-tale mark of happiness

(848 words, rated G, Shadowgast)

The sound of talk and laughter greeted Caleb from behind the door ahead, heralding the merry-making Nein within. It was the third such of these monthly get-togethers, and Caleb was very pleased with himself for starting the tradition. He was also pleased tonight in particular because he had arrived here by way of other welcome company — a certain Essek Thelyss, who had lingered in the foyer of Caleb’s new cottage when it was time to say farewell.

“Until we meet again, Caleb Widogast. What is it you say? Don’t be a stranger.” A quirk of his lips — which were subtly painted today, a new and intriguing look for his friend. “I cannot promise the same, for I may be resorting to some disguises in the near future. But… I will return, if you will have me.”

“You need only send word ahead,” Caleb had replied. “I will be here.”

And with a flash of nightshade-colored spellwork, Essek had vanished, wearing a smile like the seal on a secret letter.

(Essek had also kissed him on the cheek, which thrilled him perhaps a disproportionate amount for such a small thing.)

(Still, it was the first time Essek had chosen to do so.)

(It had been soft)

(and nice)

(and over much too quickly.)

With a creak of hinges, Caleb stepped into light and warmth. “This little room is so stuffy with all of you carrying on,” he complained, and was immediately swept into a crushing hug by Jester.

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shadowgast (though essek is sir not appearing in this ficlet) caleb widogast tumblr snippets ariadne writes cr critical role c2

Clawing my way out of writer’s block, here is a new snippet of the Mercaleb interlude, looking for light inside an ocean:

–

When Essek arrived at the cavern, there was a glimmer of amber visible over the edge of the thumbprint pool. Caleb was already there.

Smiling, Essek drifted over.

His floating feet disturbed no stones, which he was glad of when he reached the edge and realized that Caleb was sound asleep: a peaceful portrait illuminated by the column of the sun. Essek watched him for a long moment.

Caleb’s head was pillowed on seagrass above the waterline, eyes closed, his chest gently rising and falling as he breathed the air.

He looked so vulnerable like this.

As Caleb basked in the sunlight, Essek basked in the feeling of being trusted, of being given permission to come and go from this place as he pleased.

Finally, still taking care to make no sound — it felt now like a game he was playing, for no particular reason — he knelt and touched the water with just the tip of his finger.

He hadn’t thought about what to say, exactly, but before he could come up with words Caleb was already opening his eyes.

‘Hello, dear.’

op fic: mercaleb mercaleb ariadne writes CR tumblr snippets shadowgast

Microstory Prompt Meme Compilation

Here are all the filled prompts for finding/reading convenience! Prompt list for reference. Thank you again to everyone who submitted a prompt - I had a lot of fun writing these and it’s definitely helped shake off some of that pesky authorial torpor!

1+15) don’t leave + trembling hands (Marion Lavorre)

7) silent fury (Shadowgast)

8) sunbathing (Jester & 3 suspiciously familiar cats)

13) too loud (Cree & Lucien)

15) trembling hands (Wensforth)

16) in dreams (Lucien & Mollymauk - sort of)

18) flinders (Shadowgast)

19) sea change (Fjord & Essek)

20) alone, finally (Molly & Essek)

20+24) alone, finally + tender (Shadowgast)

23) sated (Shadowgast)

32) dust motes (Shadowgast)

41) comfort food (Shadowgast)

ariadne writes CR compilation post tumblr snippets microstory prompt meme critical role shadowgast op

All the world's a maze — "Stand up straight, Widogast." A flicker of...

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a tell-tale mark of happiness

Microstory Prompt Meme Compilation