serialexperimentslife
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“Caleb,” Essek asks in an undertone, as they walk away from one window, its festive display festooned in so many colorful sparkling lights that the very sight makes Essek’s eyes water, “if there is something you want to buy, then why not just buy it?”
“Too expensive,” Caleb demurs, the denial so prompt it cannot be anything but reflexive. “Besides, I don't need it.”
Bookmarked by serialexperimentslife
25 Dec 2025
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the long work of staying by TaraLaurel
Fandoms: Critical Role: Exandria (Web Series), The Mighty Nein (Cartoon)
14 Dec 2025
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“You are not a burden of time,” Essek said, and his voice was very steady now. “You are a moment I chose.”
Years after the Mighty Nein have saved the world, Caleb Widogast finds himself afraid of something far quieter: the slow betrayal of his own hands, and the knowledge that his time will end long before Essek’s ever could.
Love, like knitting, is work done slowly.
As winter deepens and age makes itself known, Caleb Widogast tries to prepare himself to let go. Essek Thelyss stays anyway.
Fluffcember 2025 Prompt Fill | Day Twelve | Knitting
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20 Dec 2025
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It wasn’t consecution.
How could it be? Essek wasn’t consecuted. Even if he had been, consecution didn’t work like this. He’d know if it did; he’d spent years searching for any scrap of information about what was happening to him.
He found nothing.
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Every time Essek dies, he wakes up on the day he meets the Mighty Nein. He's tried everything to avoid, subvert or kill them, but so far nothing has worked. He's already died fifteen times. He refuses to die a sixteenth.
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Bookmarked by serialexperimentslife
09 Dec 2025
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It is a rare evening when Essek does not have any visitors. Tonight, he has time to rest, and to rouse himself early enough to watch the dawn break. Early enough to catch sight of a familiar head of rough red hair in the window across the street. Early enough that the rest of the world is still asleep, and Essek can be only Essek.
He raises his hand, waving bashfully. “Good morning.”
(In which a shop assistant teaches a courtesan a touch of magic, and a courtesan teaches a shop assistant the magic of touch.)
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Bookmarked by serialexperimentslife
03 Dec 2025
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“We want you to be an actor for us,” Mollymauk states abruptly. “Join our troupe. We will pay you fair wages, clear your debt with this house of flesh, and supply you with an improved place for board.”
Caleb’s head spins. “A troupe?”
“You won’t be a lead actor,” Jester amends, as if it improved the deal at all. “But you’ll play roles with spoken lines, and silent roles too. We need another pair of feet to stomp our stage. If you can sing, that will help. We can always do with more singers.”
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Caleb, whose life is hard and cold and hungry, is offered an escape — an exceedingly odd one. Some might say that all the world’s a stage, but not all are so willing to face its audience.Bookmarked by serialexperimentslife
28 Nov 2025