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Brother Gregor spending his morning in the garden.

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And speaking of Sophia Tolstoy, her diaries are just so depressing. 

“I am to gratify his pleasure and nurse his child, I am a piece of household furniture, I am a woman. I try to suppress all human feelings. When the machine is working properly it heats the milk, knits a blanket, makes little requests and bustles about trying not to think […].“

She wrote this when she was 19, one year into her marriage to Leo and as she was pregnant with the first of his 13 children.

A few years later, when she was 25 or so:

“I am so often alone with my thoughts that the need to write in my diary comes quite naturally … Now I am well again and not pregnant—it terrifies me how often I have been in that condition. He said that for him being young meant “I can achieve anything”. For me […] reason tells me that there is nothing I either want or can do beyond nursing, eating, drinking, sleeping, and loving and caring for my husband and babies, all of which I know is happiness of a kind, but why do I feel so woeful all the time, and weep as I did yesterday? I am writing this now with the pleasantly exciting sense that nobody will ever read it, so I can be quite frank with myself […].“

During her 12th pregnancy she wrote about taking scalding baths and jumping from high pieces of furniture to try and miscarry.  And at one point while reading her husband’s diary (which he told her to read) she found the sentence “There is no such thing as love, only the physical need for intercourse and the practical need for a life companion.” In her own diary she wrote “They ebb and flow like waves, these times when I realise how lonely I am and want only to cry…”

A few years before her husband’s death, she published a cycle of prose poems titled “Groans”, under the pseudonym “A Tired Woman”.

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quick little Essek sketch! when i drew my very first Essek ever (this baby!) people seemed to really like his hand gesture, which was super nice to hear ✨ i had chosen that pose for him on a whim because it just seemed like such an Essek thing, so when i started working on my Essek expression studies sheet a few months later and rewatching some Essek scenes, it was especially funny to see him actually make a very similar gesture in ep 91 🤭 it's more sweet and cute in that episode than it is in that first drawing of mine, but the hand-to-chest thing has my whole heart. so i drew it again! it doesn't fit into that sheet so i'm uploading it separately. let's say that it's to celebrate over a year of drawing that purple wizard pfpf

tip jar!

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i find scourger au's absolutely amazing in how one of their purposes is to simply satisfy the fandom's infinite horniness for evil-aligned wizards, and you know i had to get in on that shit too. i've actually wanted to draw adult Bren ever since i figured out my design for Caleb's scars, with the sole purpose of depicting him with the glyph chant tattoos, so here i am, like months later. anyway, i enjoy some very specific scourger!Bren brainworms and headcanons from time to time, and one of them is that he's absolutely just as sullen and gloomy as canon Caleb is

tip jar!

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volstrucker ✖️

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Eadwulf was the goth when they were teenagers but he chilled a little as he got older and now out of nowhere Bren’s going to come back and just be goth as Hell with a goth drow boyfriend and Wulf’s going to have to up his game. 

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“Astrid,” Bren says, exasperated, “please come get your boyfriend.”

“He’s your boyfriend too,” says Astrid, almost cross, already halfway to them.

“Why’s he only my boyfriend when he’s drunk–” Bren starts, and then catches Astrid’s eye and starts laughing hysterically.

It’s not funny. It’s really not. Or at least, it shouldn’t be. But Bren’s laughing so hard he’s almost choking, and he can’t stop. They’re such a mess. Such a predictable, naive, lightweight collective mess.

Astrid’s looking at him funny, the corner of her mouth twitching like she can’t decide whether to join him in his sudden burst of insanity or Wulf on the floor.

“It’s okay, Wulf,” Bren says when he’s caught his breath. “It’s–mein gott, it’s okay, you just…caught me off guard. Let’s not do that when you’re drunk. Alright?”

Wulf slumps forward, nuzzling his face against Bren’s knees, and Bren reaches down to catch his hands. “You need help, beautiful,” he whispers, and kisses the top of Wulf’s head.

Astrid kneels carefully next to him and starts rubbing his back. “Help, or a coping mechanism that doesn’t involve him throwing up in our bed.”

“My bed,” Bren corrects.

Astrid rolls her eyes. “I forgot, your highness, your incredibly special, perfect four poster chosen one bed.”

“Thank you. Exactly.”

There’s a long moment before Astrid looks at him in a “let’s get this moving” sort of way, and Bren sighs. “Alright, big guy. Up we go.”

He nearly falls over tugging Wulf to his feet, but Astrid quickly positions herself under one arm, and between the two of them they manage to wrestle him into Bren’s bed. He’s pretty much asleep by the time he hits the pillow. Bren makes a face, uses the edge of his sleeve to wipe the tears off his face. “Poor guy,” he whispers.

“Are you as worried as I am?” Astrid asks, impossibly quiet.

Bren wavers, preoccupied with running his fingers through the close-shorn fuzz on the back of Wulf’s neck. “I–we shouldn’t.”

“It’s not a crime to be worried about our friend.”

Bren flashes her a dangerous look. “Why would it be.” It’s meant to be a question, but…it’s not.

“I–that’s what I mean. Bren.”

Bren takes a deep breath, trying to force his own heart rate to still. He can still feel Wulf’s fingers on his waistband, see the wild, haunted look in his bloodshot eyes. “He’ll be okay,” he says, with more confidence than he feels. “He just needs to sleep it off.”

Astrid’s mouth thins to a hard line, but she starts tugging the comforter out from under Wulf so they can actually get underneath it.

“We all just need to get used to it,” says Bren. He takes another long breath. There’s still blood under his fingernails. He’s scrubbed his hands, but it’s sticking. “He–we’ll be okay. Astrid. Love.”

Astrid looks up, captured suddenly by the endearment, a blush spreading under her freckles. “Yes?”

“We’ll all be okay. We have to be.”

in honor of drei canon (for like idk the third time now?) please have an excerpt from the giant fucking drei fic i’ve been writing for over a year now <3

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was just thinking about eadwulf muttering “self preservation” before trying to dimension door out of that final battle

and I love the thought of him being the (comparatively) cautious/responsible one of the blumentrio during their soltryce academy days

because we have astrid, with her diminutive stature and diplomatic tendencies and who was probably already playing the political game as a teenager, and bren, who was canonically charismatic as fuck as a kid

so people would probably look at the two of them smiling innocently next to eadwulf, this dude who looks like a stereotypical jock (especially amongst wizards), and label him as the troublemaker

but nope, I bet you anything it was eadwulf following after astrid “race you to the top” beck and bren “evocation wizard” ermendrud and putting out their fires with a long-suffering sigh

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I just love them so damn much. 

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i am resuscitating a year-old shadowgast comic wip and felt like posting some faces I redrew last night

it's a very happy comic, as you can tell. only the best things for my favorite characters

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prompt: jester introducing essek to the fjorester baby/babies??

;w;<3

SO FUNNY STORY:

i actually started doodling this based on this rly funny post (which @randomcharactername found for me!:')) i couldn't find it i was so upset bc this post is SO FUNNY and deserves a shoutout).

I put drawing this on hold because I wanted to draw other things. So this ask gave me a reason to finish them lol

i am once again projecting my experiences onto essek bc u kno.. i Can. and i Want to.

|| support me on ko-fi ||

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So proud of this one

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So proud of this one

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Okay, one more. (confession: I gave up and cropped kingsley out of this doodle bc he wouldn’t cooperate with me. YET….)

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anyhow, you should read amongst the things left unforgiven

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Summary: Essek’s long and complicated relationship with the Light and light.

Notes: Took some liberties with Dynasty crime punishments. It’s not graphic at all though! Kinda linear but also eh? Honestly idk what to even call this or if it’s any good. So either glad u liked it or sorry ur eyes had to see this lol. (Tense consistency? I barely know ya!) Also I don’t mean to paint the Luxon in a bad light, this is just Essek’s perspective on them.

“For you, I’d steal the stars and lay them at your feet, so they could light a path to guide you home” ~ Papermoon (Soul Eater OP 2)

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The light of the Luxon shines down upon Den Thelyss. At least that is what his mother said. As a child, Essek heard those words and felt a sense of wonder. The wellspring of endless questions and thirst for knowledge just beginning to grow. How was he supposed to know that his questions would be unwanted, unanswered, and rejected. Soon those words took on another meaning.

The light of the Luxon shines down upon Den Thelyss. Essek is long past believing in the religious fanatical preachings of his parents. His parents may believe that they are somehow chosen and elevated in status due to the light of this faceless, voiceless god, but he would pour everything into becoming something for himself. The Luxon does not respond. It does not answer. Much like his parents. Much like his teachers. Much like the Queen herself. It does not give him the answers he seeks.

Essek figures that the moment he steals the beacon from the courts, he has resigned himself to a life living in the shadows. He tells himself in the mirror as he is schooling himself how to lie, that he did not want a life in the light. The light refused him, so he turned away from it. He is a Shadowhand. He lies to the Bright Queen. He is a Shadowhand. He pulls away from Verin. He is a Shadowhand. The war of Ash and Light begins.

While the Dynasty now reveres the light, Essek is highly aware of what it does to his kind. He wills himself to not show fear as the Taskhands chain up a drow. A traitor to the Dynasty was discovered today. A spy who had been traded secrets with the Empire. A execution is normal for this crime, but the Bright Queen wants an example to be made. A punishment reserved for the worst of the worst. One that has rarely been used. A circle of clerics ready Moonlight in their hands. A brutal death. Death by the Light.

“May the light of the Luxon judge your sins!”

He doesn’t look away, but the fear and guilt doesn’t leave him for a while. He spends the next few days locked his own study in complete darkness. That traitor burned on the outside. Essek has been burning on the inside for quite some time now. He wonders which is worse.

This man with hair like fire and soot stained fingers holds up Essek’s doom. If he wasn’t so practiced in keeping his composure, he would lost it right there on the spot. The mask of the Shadowhand has become all too easy to slip on, yet this man—Caleb Widogast—somehow managed to crack it. He does not know what possessed him to teach him dunamancy. He was sure he had squashed that childish want for light years ago.

The Mighty Nein are in his head. His skin burned when Caleb touched his arm. He can’t stand them and he wants to be with them. Sweet singsong messages fade in and out of his mind. They ask about his scrying. He dodges the questions thrown his way. They need not know how Caleb’s fire mesmerizes and scares him all at the same time. He has a feeling that Caleb feels the same way. They need not know how much he longs to have the light of the Nein shine in his direction. But he is a selfish man. He goes to meet Ludinus.

Essek hates parties. And this one is no different. The noise of the guests, the too bright lights, the fact that the Mighty Nein are causing chaos here. Jester is saying something to him, but how to tell her that she was wrong about him. How could he dim such a bright light with the darkness that he carries? To tell the Nein would be to drag them down into the shadows with him.

Or the Nein could pull him out of the shadows and back into the light. He doesn’t understand. Nothing about this makes sense. They should hate him. At least their hatred, their rejection would make the fire within him burn less. But it only roars with a fierce intensity as they look at him with sorrow and pity. Caleb’s burning him alive as his lips press against Essek’s forehead. In his 112 years of life, the light finally gives him an answer, a request. To make this world better. To not give in to the all too easy temptations of power and knowledge.

He’s gotten what he’s wanted all his life. Essek holds the findings of the research in his hands. He wants to burn it. And yet? He cannot bring himself to do so. The fire inside him simmers now, but every now and then it boils. The light of Luxon is drawing nearer, the light of the Nein sails farther, his clock is ticking. Essek is done with it all. He can no longer stay in the shadows and he is more afraid of the light than he has ever been. He resolves to lose himself in chill of Aeor.

The Nein have come. If his hands are shaking under his cloak, it is because of the cold. Surprisingly, the fire within does not blaze brighter. It is an odd feeling of warmth that continues to grow as they trek Aeor together. The light of the Nein does not burn away his sins. It holds him steady and shines the light to expose all that he’s done. It asks, it demands, it pleads that he face them and do better. The light of the Nein is warm and caring where the Luxon was cold and distant. Strange that on this deadly quest with the Mighty Nein, Essek has never felt more at home.

Essek looks down at his husband relaxing with his head on the drow’s lap. Caleb’s fiery locks fan out across his crossed legs. Today, they sit in the dappled shade of the Blooming Grove. Tomorrow is still an uncertainty. But no more shadows for him. Essek knows he’s found what he’s been looking for all his life. Today, the light of the Nein shines upon Essek Thelyss.