Something Something Essek Being His Own Martyr In His Own Homemade Hell, Something Something Lux Embrassing

salut les copains 🌼

I’m reopening my commissions ! I’ve put all general infos, process and TOU under the read more. If you’re interested in working with me, send me your request with all the informations and references needed at lolavagabonde@gmail.com and let’s talk about your project together ! same if you got any question, don’t hesitate to reach out to me by mail or the ask box  😊

More infos about what I will and can draw just below !

Thanks for reading this and your support 💖

Afficher davantage

I heard Comfy Matt got his nails done

But who’s that charming fellow who flirted with Professor Widogast last night ?

part 2 : https://anne-o-nyme.tumblr.com/post/658691088147709952/to-all-the-people-who-had-this-brilliant-idea

In honor of the anniversary of the most unhinged shadowgast era, I present you the Timeloop-babygast-execution Au, where two mad lads run away from home (secret military underground bunker) and try their hands at murdering criminals (Caleb, their own father) and piss off a powerful dunamancer (Essek, their other father) enought to set up a timeloop none of them can escape (until they sit down and talk about their feelings/misunderstandings).

Many thanks to the amazing @flappingduster for joining in this madness, and  lending her babygast

Hey....cursed thought but...do Long Essek see shrimp colors ??

related to this post, where the Mighty Nein organise Essek’s fake funerals 

https://anne-o-nyme.tumblr.com/post/659298258508726272/anne-o-nyme-i-dont-know-if-anyone-else-had

The Funeral

Essek’s death had to be believable. It was paramount to his ability to remain connected to the Mighty Nein (even if disguises would be necessary) for he did not wish to put them in continued danger with his presence but they were at risk as long as the Dynasty’s gaze remained fixed on hunting him down. So it was that the Mighty Nein were soon happily planning a great scheme of theatrics, sending messages back and forth, and ultimately coming together in the Blooming Grove for a family meeting on the matter. Kingsley had stalwartly refused to support the usurping of his position as “handsome, ‘you should be dead’ purple man” of the group so he remained upon the Nein Heroez, getting further acquainted with crew. Jester was drawing out plans while the others offered their contributions.  

“Should we throw him a funeral too?” Yasha asked.

Veth immediately interjected, excited to stir the pot, “Oh I see, so when you thought all of us might be dead, you couldn’t be bothered, but when Essek dies you’re happy to throw a funeral. I get it. I see where we all stand.”

Yasha’s brows knit together in confusion.

“No Veth… I mean you were the one who taught me funerals were important… I thought.”

Veth immediately softened at the gentle giant’s sincerity and placed an arm on her forearm.

“Okay. As long as you’ve learned your lesson.” she said softly to assure Yasha she was not mad but still stalwartly refusing to give up the bit. The rest of the Mighty Nein were holding back laughter.

“You know it’s not a bad idea,” Fjord added “it would make it more believable if we’re seen to be, like, visibly grieving. Do the Kryn have funerals, Essek?” Essek snapped to attention, upon hearing his name. He had been rather distracted admiring the way the breeze was blowing through Caleb’s long, ginger hair. It felt oddly intimate to see someone with their hair flowing free for the wind to play with, no styling whatsoever, but then, Essek supposed that was simply a marker of his upbringing in a culture where no one would ever be willing to appear disheveled in the slightest. He attempted to recall what had been said but it was no use.

“My apologies, what was that?”

Beau rolled her eyes.

“Oh god. He’s absolutely useless lately. Hey! Lovesick weirdo! We are trying to make a plan to save your life so you might want to tune in.” Beau knocked on his head as if checking to make sure it wasn’t hollow. Essek, though his expressive ears seemed to pull back in embarrassment, turned to her with the blankest of expressions, practiced from many years of maintaining composure for the sole purpose of annoying a younger sibling.

“I apologize, I was busy theorizing about what may have happened in the dynasty during my absence and while attempting to unravel the incredibly complex web of political intricacies, I happened to miss what was said.” his scathing tone didn’t have the slightest effect on Beau.

“Yo guys, new nickname for Caleb: political intricacies.”

The Mighty Nein exploded into laughter, chortling at the quip.

Read More on Ao3

what little i can do

a/n: so uh, my hand slipped. i saw this post about time-traveling essek helping bren and i just... it all kinda wrote itself. @kurosmind i hope you enjoy this little ficlet and the pain this concept has cause me, bc i just love it so much.

* * *

he figures it out accidentally. late at night in the library, frumpkin nestled in her basket nearby, Dancing Lights illuminating his scrawling. he should be sleeping; a group of far-too-green adventurers came by to pester him today and he's exhausted.

but then he scribbles a formula and stops.

a memory flashes. a mess of red hair; sobs upon his chest. a room full of ash; his mantle heavy with disintegrated secrets.

he tucks away the writings hastily. no. he promised he wouldn't, and there's never a promise to caleb he's ever broken, not even now, hundreds of years later.

he won't use the spell.

it's been years. another adventuring party has come and gone; this one included a halfing who giddily hugged him, rambling about her great-grandmother's wild stories. she's not the first one he's met; there are many out in the world who come to him with echos of the mighty nein. if only the rest of them could see the ripple they've created...

he finds that spell when he's looking for something else. it brings him pause. he feels a great weight in his bones these days, an aching, ever-present coldness. soon he will be the final grave in the grove, he knows, buried by clarabelle clay or perhaps one of her children.

he looks at the portrait by his bedside, small and fading. he gives frumpkin an absentminded pat.

he gathers the components, letting them sit on the kitchen table for days, gathering courage.

what does he have to lose? he knows he can't alter anything, but if only he could see him-- see them, all of them-- one more time...

it would be worth it.

it will be worth it.

Afficher davantage

Shadowgast Baby from @foxqueen-katarian ‘s au, go check it out ! 

I cannot stop thinking about @foxqueen-katarian ‘s amazing AU, where Essek is the Luxon’s champion, who somehow got a physical child-like body and keeps following him around like a little duckling.

I guess they just floats around, shining like a cosmic diamond, and live their best life (?)

You can find more about it in this thread : 

https://anne-o-nyme.tumblr.com/post/663251925576368128/part-of-me-is-in-love-with-the-idea-of-essek

“I  can almost touch them, Caleb !”

Hey….cursed thought but…do Long Essek see shrimp colors ??