#and not wear 'fancy wizard robes'

[wyllzel]

wyll has the default warlock fit bc it's common padded armor aka NORMAL ARMOR bc he wants to be NORMAL so bad... bc he can't be!!! he can't actually be a default male human fighter!!

when you find out he's grand duke ulder ravengard's son, he FREAKS OUT and is like "i was just a normal kid!!! we didn't even do all the aristocratic stuff!!!!! i just went to fancy balls and drank expensive wine and learned to use a rapier instead of a shortsword i am literally so normalcore!!!" and then all his stories in act 3 about sneaking out of the upper city to do Normalcore Things like fishing

bro wants to be normal SO BAD!!! but alas

[autumnalwalker]

Hi Sage love

Pick one (or a few) ocs and describe a typical outfit. And, of you're feeling fancy, a nicer outfit for some event. Reference photos are optional.

For the Empty Names main cast (sort of spoilers on Road's though after the first two sentences):

Ashan: Default outfit is his wizard robes. White with abstract pearlescent patterns trimming the shoulders and sleeves. Frequently mistaken for a dress. It's also literally the only clothes he owns. In the hypothetical scenario of the group having to attend a formal event that I've given thought to but don't know how to fit into the main story, Sullivan forces him into a tailored suit with the same color scheme and just enough unusual design flourishes to vaguely look like he just walked out of an anime or JRPG.

Sullivan: To pull a line directly from the story: "Embroidered yellow vest over a shirt with puffy sleeves.  Tailored pants.  Shiny shoes that look terrifyingly expensive." He actually has a whole bunch of vests in varying shades of yellow and gold, all with the exact same pattern. A pattern which is inspired by the classic short story "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman. The difference between casual and formal outfit for him is really just whether or not he decides to add on a suit jacket to match the pants, and maybe a tie of some variety.

Lacuna: Slightly oversized black dysphoria hoodie, thigh-high "programmer socks," and either an ankle-length black skirt or slightly loose-fitting pants. Fancy event outfit is a dark-colored dress that she either got of the rack or ordered online that she liked the look of and was the tallest fit she could find but still obviously wasn't made with someone 6'3" in mind.

Eris: Depending on the weather, either red tanktop and khaki cargo shorts or red tracksuit. Steel-toed boots with either. Red's not particularly a color she favors for fashion, but it is good for covering up bloodstains when she goes monster hunting, and it's sort of taken over most of her wardrobe just in case something comes up on short notice. Tucked away in a closet, waiting for the rare event that she gets to go somewhere really nice and doesn't expect to get in a fight while there she's got a sleeveless, backless dress of a color somewhere between teal and sea-green.

Road: Has a shapeshifting symbiote/creature/thing that usually defaults to the form of something akin to a purple motorcycle jacket with green accents. If there's a need for formal-wear, combat armor, or just a desire to try out a different look for a bit, the "garment" just changes to match on command, although it always keeps the purple-with-green-accents color scheme. Not even Sullivan knows where they got the thing and Road doesn't seem to remember, but with Road being... ontologically challenged... it has the added benefit of giving others something they can easily remember about their appearance beyond an impression of a warm/comforting/reassuring smile. Of course, that's because the symbiote is its own separate entity so it doesn't get blurred from memory like the rest of Road's clothes or body, and it's still not really Road's appearance that anyone's recalling.

[soup-of-the-daisies]

i love it when authors make sirius only a little bit ‘cool’, but almost in the lucius malfoy-kind of pretty way. he may be a rebel but he’s still posh and vaguely traditional. his pronunciation becomes unbearably ‘stiff upper lip’ when he’s emotional. he wears his hair long because his father and grandfather also kept it long, because it’s tradition for wizards who are of age. he wears jewellery because wizards wear jewellery, not just witches, and the look of it is great. his tattoos, if he even has them, are runes like the old magicals used to have. he only wears muggle clothes when he has to because the feeling of denim makes his entire body cringe. he smokes cigarettes but would rather smoke a pipe.

sirius black, whose rebellion is purely political, utterly ideological, and not rooted into aesthetic like what this generation is so obsessed with. he appreciates modern and muggle things because they’re interesting and fun, not lesser, but he’ll always prefer dragonhide over cow leather. his favourite leather jacket is just a transfigured outer robe for the motorbike, for the off-chance that he rides it on the roads and needs to look the part.

he can be an activist and argue for muggle and muggleborn rights while dressed like a wizard. let him be as whimsical! let him be utterly out of his depth when he needs to blend in! he can be woke AND dressed all fancy please!! ideological rebellion is a mindset NOT the way you dress omfg

[lilbeanz]

Lately I've been pondering alot on footwear in the wizarding/wixen world...

There's so much to tap into fashion wise...like what the hell does just "robes" even mean Terf-face McRowling????

And I feel like the fan base has done such a wonderful job to portray their own beautiful and unique designs and descriptions... but not so much on shoes 🤔

Like the most generic thing is for them to be walking around in muggle shoes or "loafers" or "dragonhide boots"....

Hell no. These mfs are walking around rocking THESE bad bois!!!

✨️S L I P P E R S✨️

At least for dress robes, formal wear, and those who are fun, fancy biatches on the daily......

[felassan]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard art book pages, under a cut due to spoilers:

Top left: Lace Harding in travel gear. Top right: Rogue Taash in a dragon-skin suit. Center: Imshael, a choice spirit in human form. Bottom right: An Antivan Crow Dreamer who is covered in tattoos that remind her of her identity when she returns from dreaming.

Top left: In his earliest form, a potential Qunari companion was a saarebas (a mage). Top right: Trying to find the right balance between Warden and Dalish hunter in an early exploration of Davrin. Center right: Lucanis started as a Tevinter agent. Bottom left: Calpernia was to return from Inquisition, this time as a party member. Bottom right: A potential Qunari companion evolved from saarebas to dapper Qunari spy, offering a deeper look into Qunari culture.

Top: Long ago, the Kal Sharok were cut off from the rest of the dwarves by a Blight. They survived by hunting darkpawn, becoming like Grey Wardens. We explored what scrappier dwarves with an even closer relationship to the Stone would look like. Bottom: Tevinter found the last tatters of the ancient elven empire and copied what they could. We wanted Tevinter designs to look like simplistic copies of elven designs.

Top: The red rope of the Qunari represents their ideology, the Qun. Each member is simply one section of the continuous thread that will one day wrap around all Thedas. Bottom: Early exploration of the Crows. These weren't luxurious enough.

Top left: Nevarra is largely a desert nation, so we came up with a design language that was light and flowing. Top right: Nevarran dragon hunters might wear ceremonial dragon-skin cloaks with large crested helmets. Center: For the Mourn Watch, we explored dermestid beetle and fly motifs. We also researched the embalming process and how undead bodies might decay with neglect.

Top: A tal-vashoth from Rivain. Center: Some of the first costumes designed for Joplin were mercenary outfits. The idea was to come up with a cheap, standardized uniform that would be easy to mass-produce. It would be the common gear for mercenaries and bandits alike.

Top: A normal day in Tevinter. Center: Tevinter was built on the corpse of the elven empire. Thematically, we explored costumes for Tevinter citizens that resembled scavengers (such as a vulture, a fly, a maggot). Center right: We also tried to see if access to water would make for a good class distinction (the more wet someone looked, the wealthier they were).

Top: We designed the Tevinter clothing style based on Dorian and the Venatori soldiers from Inquisition. Bottom center: While Tevinter is full of powerful mages and shady characters, there are still people living their lives there. We wanted to design the full spectrum of Tevinter society. Bottom right: We tried taking the serpent motif to its logical conclusion. Oftentimes you don't know where the line is until you cross it.

Top: Academic robes for the mages' college. Bottom: Exploring the various categories of Tevinter slaves.

Top: The party explores an ancient elven ruin, but it's protected by a magical security system. Center left: A draconic motif for the Antaam. Center right: A Tevinter gladiator enhanced with magical irons.

Made You Look There can be a tendency to race through environments. To help teach players to pay more attention, we explored creatures that would be deadly to the unobservant. The wizard scissor chair was a favorite. Enter a fancy dining room or the luxurious hall of a magister's tower, and you'd never know when one of these was ready to snap. Center: Certain barrels might have extra webs on them, and maybe they occasionally shudder.

Top left: The sewer slug. Center left: We tried to develop some hybrid creatures, things that Ghilan'nain might have experimented on. Like this cyclops-dragon-centaur. Center right: The spider man was meant to read like a normal crowd character until you got within grabbing distance. [drawing is annotated "Surprise!"] Bottom: Some creatures are designed to solve a problem. In this case, keeping players away from the ocean. This was meant to be Ghilan'nain's version of a mermaid.

The turtle was another creature that would force players to pay attention to their environment. It would be passive, unless you got too close. Later on we would explore what was possible with domesticated versions of this animal.

Top left: Messenger dolls. When you light the candle, it comes to life. You hand it a scroll and tell it the name of the recipient. Not many messages actually make it to their final destination, so it's best not to use a messenger doll for any critical information. Top right: Hourglass construct. As long as the sand is flowing, the creature can fight. It's particularly weak when it's flipping itself over. Center left: The practice of blood magic in Tevinter has created a black market for blood. Sometimes there simply aren't enough volunteers. Bottom right: More of Ghilan'nain's hybrid creatures, this time a vulture-bear and a giant. Drawing annotations: Perfectly innocent scroll-carrying hooks, Inactive when unlit, Used to deliver non-critical messages, Attacking, Tired, Vulnerable

We explored this idea for public transportation in Minrathous: domesticated giants that act as a taxi service.

Top: Every wizard needs a wizard tower, and we thought it would be fun if Tevinter had an entire suburb of them. Center: Early diagrams like this help to flesh out the visual language of a location. Starting with the Tevinter tile sets and props we made in Inquisition, we expanded on the sharp, angled, proud shape language. Bottom: Minrathous has a specific location on the map of Thedas, with the Nocen Sea to its east, and the Valarian Fields and the High Reaches to its west. It was exciting to try to bring this location to life. Drawing annotations: Pagan ritual site, capped with Chantry chapel

Minrathous Non literal maps and diagrams like this help to keep track of complicated locations. Tevinter has been referenced since the first Dragon Age game. There are many locations and landmarks that have been mentioned in dialogue and journal entries. As we began to build Tevinter for real, we tried to organize these elements into a cohesive whole. Drawing annotations: Chantry, Colosseum, Forum, Archon's Palace, Dwarven Embassy, Slave Quarter, Market Street, Upper Class, Lower Class, Guardians, Front Gate, Imperial Highway, The High Reaches, Valarian Fields, Nocen Sea

Part Three The Veilguard

A symbolic map of Thedas. Rather than providing specific cartographical information, it expresses the character of each region.

Art Style Dragon Age has never exactly been photorealistic. Dragon Age: Origins was loosely based on fantasy paintings, filtered through the limitations of the technology of the time. In Dragon Age II and continuing in Inquisition, we wanted to push our characters' designs to support their strong personalities. For Veilguard, we wanted to take a confident step away from the uncanny valley and toward even stronger characterization. The goal was to make personality and emotion read more clearly, in the same way theatrical makeup exaggerates an actor's features. Center right: We briefly discussed doing extensive focus tests, but the core leadership believed in this direction, and we knew we'd use any data we received from focus testing to just do exactly what we wanted anyway. That easily saved us half a year. Bottom: We set up a design hierarchy with shape at the top. Silhouette was the primary concern. Personality needed to come through loud and clear at this stage. Each subsequent design element supported what came before it. Value helped to strengthen and clarify silhouette, color supported value, and texture tied it all together. Drawing annotations: Inquisition, Veilguard, Inquisition, original shape, exaggerated confident shape, removed details, repeated shape, removed details, value, lighter background contrast from snow, original, adjusted, color, overall, color, adjustment

The box: We were pushing personality in characters and environments, but the real test of our principles was this box. Various drawing annotations: Inquisition, Veilguard. Inquisition, Veilguard, surface response Notes - foreshadow that: there's a huge horrible green hole in the sky. Use atmosphere haze with one purpose: strengthen silhouettes. Lil: holy killer, mercurial, evasive, dancer, bard Cass: sharp, lithe, hard shell, soft heart Exaggerated: shape, color Realistic: surface response Photo 90° angle Rich color value contrast warm/cool contrast Breaking straight lines Silhouette Exaggerated details Reference Veilguard Believable personality: push the shapes to tell the story. Value, color, texture support shapes Example: dominant shape, exaggerate unique features, more variety in stone size, decadence + entropy = faded painting Tevinter description: 1. Dominance: iconography, aggressive, pride, surveillance 2. Entropy: decay, neglect, dust, forgotten 3. Decadence: seductive, indulgent, luxurious

Elgar'nan The elven god of tyranny, vengeance, fatherhood, and the sun. All-Father of the elven pantheon. In previous games, we've seen powerful human mages that obeyed evil gods, broke into the Black City, and were corrupted. This time we were going to see the evil gods themselves. We wanted to make previous characters like Corypheus and the Architect look like crude copies next to Elgar's controlled visage. Top left: With Solas, we established that hair loss would be the only outward indication of an ancient elf's age. Elgar wears a wig attached to his crown. Center left: The shards of lyrium around his collar were each taken from a slain Titan during the war between the first elves and the Titans. They have become corrupted by their time in the Black City. Center right: Elgar uses an eclipse shape language, a reference to being the god of fire and shadow. Center: His costume was meant to reflect the general or dictator archetype: he proudly brandishes the medals of his previous conquests as a symbol of his authority. The badges on his coat are more modest at the bottom but become more and more ostentatious as his victories (and his pride) increase. He also wears around his neck a vial of dust, taken from the same spot where his spirit self-formed his body from the dust. Drawing annotations: "Body imagery", "'Spirit' nerve wings", "Show growth", "General", "King", "God-Emperor", "'God'", "Black City", "Blight Dreams", "Tormented Elgar"

One direction we explored had him badly desiccated, with only magical living armor keeping him alive.

Ghilan'nain Goddess of monsters. Mother of the Halla. Ghilan'nain was once an elf chosen by Andruil, the goddess of the hunt, to become a god as reward for her devotion to the world's animals. She then became part of the elven pantheon. Top: She is the goddess of monsters, creating countless twisted creatures. She has modified herself so much over the years that whatever her face may have been, it's long forgotten. Center left: Her mask tells the story of how she was made the youngest of the gods. On the first day, she struck down the monsters of the air. On the second day, she drowned the giants of the sea. On the third day, she killed the beasts of the land. Center right: Ghilan'nain is our sinister mad-scientist god, using her blighted magic to create horrors out of Thedas' people and wildlife. She mutates the darkspawn into even more powerful and "efficient" forms, for example, and also warps the Antaam who foolishly come to her for power. Bottom left: Ghilan'nain's horns are meant to reflect a hunting bow in reference to Andruil.

Top: Ghilan'nain wants to restore the old elven empire so she can continue her work. Analytical and curious, she sees everyone as potential stock for experiments (except for fellow god Elgar'nan, with whom she gets on well). Ghilan'nain is pitiless about her work - she'll happily slice open a hundred people for parts - but she's got a soft spot of pride in her monsters once they're complete. Center: Her Archdemon, Razikale, is an enchanted dragon that gets modified even further. Bottom: Razikale was inspired by the Jabberwocky from Terry Gilliam's film of the same name.

some other pages -

Some opening pages

Foreword

Google Books preview pages Part One

Google Books preview pages Part Two

Amazon preview pages

Page batch

Book art credits:

BioWare art: Matt Rhodes, Ramil Sunga, Albert Urmanov, Christopher Scoles, Nick Thornborrow, Steve Klit

Volta art: Gui Guimaraes, Stéphanie Bouchard, Akim Kaliberda, Alejandro Olmedo, Alexey Zaryuta, Julien Carrasco, Maksim Marenkov, Marianne Martin, Mariia Istomina, Marion Kivits, Matti Marttinen, Mélanie Bourgeois, Pablo Hurtado De Mendoza, Rael Lyra, Rodrigo Ramos, Thomas Schaffer, Tiago Sousa, Tristan Kang, Vladimir Mokry, Yintion J, Joseph Meehan, Stefan Atanasov, Julien Carrasco

Additional art: Marc Holmes, Thomas Scholes

[the-colourful-witch]

Cho Yule Ball

Dress designs for Cho at the Yule Ball ❄️✨ In the book, her dress robes were described as silvery Chinese-style robes. Now, I don't know nearly enough about traditional and modern Chinese fashion, so I took the description with a very large grain of salt. For a few designs, I took inspiration from the Hanfu, a traditional Chinese garment, and I wanted it to look witchy. After all, this is a Wizarding BALL. It's all fancy fashion and odd influences from wizarding culture. I imagine Cho was very careful to choose her dress robes. She wanted something that felt like 'her'. After all, it's one of the few times they're allowed out of their uniforms and into something personal. She's a pretty popular girl, so she would wear something flattering, yet not too complicated. Cho doesn't need much to look and feel beautiful <3 Like the dress robes for the Patil twins, I took inspiration from Chinese culture, but just a little. Cho is not defined by her heritage, she's her own person. It's up to her to choose whether she wants to dress traditionally or not at all. I added some sapphire and bronze touches for Ravenclaw because she would be proud of her house. Also, I can't draw JUST silver, because then I would lose my mind :) I already did silver for Fleur and two in a row is a lot of one colour... 💙🧡 What do you think? I personally really like 1 and 6...

[initial-lime]

For your consideration of slutty little outfits to put Jon in:

a really sleek dark green mage robe ?

those sleeping gowns they wear in old shows ?

booty shorts that say "Ceaseless watcher's special little boy" ?

a really fancy suit ?

These are just some options I'd draw if I had skills to do so. No pressure. ^^

Hiii!!! I finally got to this suggestion! And it only took 4 months (oops lol) I took some creative liberties per usual, I hope you don’t mind (: also no mage robe because I have another suggestion for some wizard stuff

Anyway thanks for the suggestion it was a lot of fun tbh! Enjoy!! (Closeups under cut)

[sophiasharp]

Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

[futurequibblerjournalist]

I think we need to let the Black family be more eccentric. And I hear you all saying "oh but fancy pureblood standards" and this is where I get you and I draw you in

We have such a misconstrued idea of what fancy pureblood standards would be in the wizard universe. Most of it I personally blame on edits. Editors don't have access to movies that portray characters wearing funky looking wizard robes so they often go for more victorian looking styles especially for the Black family but just for pureblood families in general. Please please please don't take this as a complaint but ahhhhh I need people to acknowledge the fancy wizard robes that the Black family undoubtedly wore.

Like,,, even if you argue that wizard robes are more of a special occasion thing, that just adds to the point because the Black family would wear that all the time because they're "so much better than everyone" and every day is a special occasion if you're rich enough with the right social standing.

Also, we know from the way their home is described in the book that they're not above being a little eccentric. I mean,, they've got a cut-off troll foot for an umbrella stand and they hang the heads of their previous house elves on plaques on the wall for entertainment. They had a tapestry made to show off their ancestry with fancy gold embroidery in it (if I remember correctly). Like they're out here serving maximum wizard cunt

I think a lot of people get stuck on what high society standards of muggles are and they push that onto the purebloods in this universe, but it's noted how different muggle customs are from wizard (and especially pureblood) customs, so would it not make more sense for a family such as the Black family to try and act as opposite of that? I think this is especially seen in the way gender is portrayed in wizard society. Long robes that border on being dresses are commonly worn by well-respected men in wizard society and we also see wizard clothes that use a lot of vibrant colours, glitter and embroidery.

Also just if we look at those really fucking rich people with so much generational wealth they hardly know what to do with it (aka old money like the Black family and many other pureblood families) a lot of them are unapologetically eccentric. It would just make sense for wizards to be similar

I personally have a headcanon that the purebloods are very fond of lace. It's all homemade, by housewives and the more intricate and the more of it that there is, the more it's a sign that you're a family of good standing because the women are able to stay at home and focus on their lacework. I also think the colour of the lace would send a signal about where in society a family is placed. Black thread is notoriously hard to work with, so if you've managed to create a shirt full of many layers of intricate black lace then clearly you've spent a lot of time on it. I also think these pieces become heirlooms, because that shows that not only did the current generation of the family live up to this standard, the generations before them also did.

On top of that, I think a lot of pureblood families were really big on jewellery. They had all sorts of things for different occasions, many of which were also heirlooms. I could see it being some sort of coming-of-age thing to receive a pair of grandma's earrings or something like that and I 100% imagine that all the pureblood boys ran around with signet rings on after a certain age as well.

Also,,, I just think it's kinda funny to imagine Walburga trying to stuff Sirius into some lacy half-gown-looking robe before she adds a tonne of jewellery and goes "this belonged to your namesake, aren't you just proud?" or something like that

[mspainttaz]

wizard voice: fuck u lucy

[i.d. a greyscale two panel comic of taako and madame director sitting across a table from each other. in the first panel, taako sits back with a "sorry not sorry" expression on his face and a notebook in his hand. on the notebook is a badly drawn hand flipping the bird. Taako wears wizard clothes, wizard hat, and his B.O.B. armband. in the second panel madame director has her palms clasped together and looks maybe constipated, maybe annoyed. she has short hair and a fancy robe. end i.d.]

[lurveinn]

I’m so curious about Wizarding fashion. JKR isn’t very physically descriptive- we just know that wizards wear robes, which are outlandish to muggles, and pointy hats, but what does that really mean? What kind of robe? Magical fashion clearly isn’t very gendered, since Harry remarks on a man at the Quidditch World Cup wearing a dress and insisting that it’s unisex (certainly not the case in Britain at the time), but we don’t have any other parameters. Keeping in mind the uniform from the movies, and the fact that in SWM, Snape isn’t wearing any trousers, here’s what I think wizards wear:

1. Flowing silhouettes and cloaks; clearly, wizards love a good statement cloak. Think tassels and frills (not like Ron’s Yule Ball fit!), massive extended sleeves and lots of draping.

2. Skirts: let’s be honest, just one singular robe, without any layering, doesn’t give us much to work with. Skirts go with the general silhouette, explain why the World Cup wizard thought muggle men wore dresses, and keep with the no-trousers thing from SWM. I’m South Asian, so I like to have a little fun with it and think of wizards in ghararas (my favourite item of clothing); the Wizarding World is quite insular, travel is relatively unrestricted (hello, they have magic!), everyone has a common enemy in muggles (and other species- goblins, house-elves) etcetera, so race probably doesn’t function the same way and I headcanon a lot of cross-cultural exchange. Plus, wizarding fashion isn’t restricted by weather- they have warming charms- so wearing clothes made for hot climates in England, for example, wouldn’t be a problem.

Plus, I actually think saris are a natural fancy dress option- flowy, drapey, colourful. Speaking of which-

3. If there’s one fanon idea that I hate (aside from fanon!Sirius, of course), it’s this image of wizards (specifically high society wizards) as reserved. Sorry, did we read the same books? Wizards, even posh, rich wizards, like the Malfoys and Blacks, are camp and very outlandish. They do house-elf taxidermy, they keep their wands in canes. Just because Hogwarts uniforms are black doesn’t mean that people dress like they’re in mourning all the time. People can be total snobs and obsessed with their image and still wear bright pink, insane robes, because guess what? They have different social conventions than we do. Men and women dress basically the same, so there is no reason to believe that a man wearing a flowing robe would be against the norm. I say this as someone who believes misogyny and homophobia are well and truly alive in Wizarding society, especially in pureblooded families where the emphasis is on continuing the line; they definitely exist, but they probably look different.

4. My personal obsession and headcanon: rich wizards wearing bones. Look, I might not think of them as racist in the traditional sense, but they are undeniably speciesist, if that’s a word? They think of themselves as superior, and other sentient magical species either work under (goblins) or are enslaved (house-elves) by wizards. We only see Veelas very briefly, but despite them being admired for their beauty, I doubt wizards treat them very well. So- show me blood-purists wearing corsets made of goblin bones and teeth. Show me Veelas being hunted for their blood to stain and dye clothes with. Show me exotic “magical creatures” that are humanoid and capable of reasoning and should have rights, like mermaids and werewolves, being hunted for their scales and pelts while also being ostracised for being ‘non-human’. It’s terrible, but that’s the kind of archaic jewellery and fashion the old families that the fandom likes to fetishise would like to wear.

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown ; Part 3

Part 1 ⚜ Part 2 ⚜ Ao3

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence (there is a lot discussion of blood and injuries in this chapter), Major Character Death, Sexual Content (mostly just horny thoughts), background Bloodweave.

Chapter Summary:

Not even Moonrise Tower nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it.

Notes: I wanted some whump, okay? I promise they will fuck eventually.

“Rolan? Really? I thought he hated your guts.” 

“You haven’t seen him pining from afar?” Shadowheart asked dramatically. 

“Honestly, Tav, he’s a decent bloke,” Wyll said. “A bit rough around the edges —“

“A bit?!” Karlach protested. 

“Alright, quite rough around the edges,” Wyll amended.

“And pompous,” Shadowheart added. 

“Completely up his own ass,” Karlach agreed.

“Alright!” Tav said, “I’ve told you all, nothing happened.” 

Her and Rolan had been camp gossip from the moment they had walked into their suite; Tav had a hangover and a strong need for coffee, while Rolan was stiff with embarrassment at the questioning looks from her companions. He couldn’t stay long, but they had food and tea and coffee, which was the least she could offer him. She remembered most of the night: the crying, yelling and him having to arrange a makeshift bed for her. As it was embarrassing as it was, she felt a little better getting it all off of her chest. The details were fuzzy, but she knew she had come on to him. While nothing untoward had happened, the camp only saw their leader come through the doors looking bedraggled with an equally out of sorts tiefling wizard. Tongues had been sent wagging immediately. 

“But you do fancy him, don’t you?” Karlach asked. 

She took a deep breath. “Can we focus on the task at hand?” 

“Only after you admit you want to shag the grumpy wizard,” Shadowheart teased. 

“Fine, fine!” Tav felt like tearing out her hair. “Yes, yes I like him. Okay. Can we move on now?” 

“Sheesh,” Karlach breathed. “Take him to bed, mate. You need it.”

She didn’t need Karlach to tell her that. She pushed on, ignoring them. Wyll, however, caught up quickly to her. 

“I won’t lie to you, my friend, he hasn’t made the best impression,” he told her. “But he’s truly a good man.” 

“I know that.” 

“So, are you going to come clean about what happened on the roof then?” He was grinning, boyish and mischievous. 

“Not you too, Wyll, please you were my last hope.”

Her only saving grace was that they found their way to an unusual engineer named Redhammer and his submersible, which happened to be the same culprit that had killed one the the priestesses of Umberlee. While she had half agreed to kill or hand him over if she found him, he offered an opportunity to find the hostage Gondians in the Iron Throne. Tav decided to take some inspiration from Astarion, using him to get down to the Iron Throne before she ultimately left his fate up to Umberlee's order. She thought she should have felt guilty, but he had been so casual about killing the priestess and transporting hostages she found herself lacking any real remorse. After the tadpole was out of her head, she thought she may have to reassess her moral compass. 

After saving the Gondians, Duke Ravengaurd himself and their old friend Omeluum she was happy to be alive and not blown to bits at the bottom of the Chionthar. The priestesses of Umberlee had even rewarded them with a beautiful robe in exchange for finding Redhammer. Gale was the only other person it would have been suited for and he was too embarrassed to wear it despite the entire camp teasing him about it. It was a bit risqué, but when Tav slipped it on she felt it cling to her body and the strange fabric was so damn comfortable she felt as if it were a second skin. She quite liked it. 

They made their way to Sorcerer’s Sundries, knowing the next day would be their chance to finish up the infiltration of the Steelwatch Foundry. Tav was sure Gortash would not bring the Steelwatch down on them right away. The last thing he needed was his army of metal titans tearing apart the city to find them, civilians would inevitably get hurt and then they would get angry. Gortash needed a city scared but ready to cling to a tyrant that could keep them safe, not ready to revolt for stepping on their children. They had to move, but she wanted to let him sweat and take time to get ready for their final push. 

The foundry, the hammer, the last Netherstone. Then the brain. There was finally a light at the end of the tunnel. 

Rolan was rarely in the shop these days. His mirror image had taken his position at the counter, helped along by the other specialists and Cal or Lia. Tav made her way upstairs; despite her pride she owed Rolan thanks for the night before and an apology for the teasing her friends had thrown his way in the wake of it. And she wondered if he’d like her new robes. It was silly, and pointless in the face of everything else that was going on but the desire was there, hiding behind her ‘noble’ reasons for disturbing him in the middle of the day. She made her way through the portal which led to the study Rolan was now using as his own office throughout the day. The blood, ash and bodies had all been cleared away — the decadent room was still in process of being redone to Rolan’s standards but it had come a long way since Lorroakan’s death. 

“Rolan?” She called. 

“A minute, please,” he replied from the balcony. 

Tav rolled her eyes, muttering about wizards and their books. She strolled about the room. He seemed to be in the process of organizing tomes, one of the animated suits of armor was picking up a stack piled on the ground and taking it through another portal. She recalled him mentioning a library, and wanting to cultivate his own favorites for the study. It was his, now, after all. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

When he had heard Tav’s voice carry through the study, he noted a lack of distinct irritation at being interrupted. Another sign that Tav was becoming worryingly exempt from his usual ‘prick-ish particularities’ as Cal had so kindly put it. He had just seen her that morning and as awkward as breakfast had been amongst her companions, he had to force himself to finish putting books on the shelf before heading down the stairs. He needed to retain some of his dignity, after all, despite his desire to eagerly stop everything he was doing at the sound of her voice. Tav waited for him below, and as usual, he took a mental note of any new injuries she may have acquired.

Robes with pieces of protective gear was what she normally wore. Soft leathers and sturdy cotton robes, with something to protect her vulnerable points. Even out of armor she usually only wore a simple tunic and cloth pants. His surprise to find her at the center of his study in an outfit that was all flesh and skin tight fabric made him stop in his tracks. The light blue ensemble clung to every curve, dipped low between her breasts (that damned pearl dangling at the center of her chest matched well with this new outfit, he noted), and was slit at the legs so all he saw was skin bared up to a concerning height on her thighs. Her worn leather boots stuck out, not quite fitting in with the sleek outfit, but that did nothing to preserve him from staring dumbly. 

His momentary gawking was interrupted when he realized this scrap of fabric was meant to be armor. All the soft spots of her were exposed to cuts and bruises. 

“Please tell me you didn’t wear that into battle?”

“You don’t like it?”

“That’s hardly the point I’m trying to make,” he said quickly. 

“Then what is the point?”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said. “You can’t wear that in a fight. It’s…” 

Ravishing. So easy to slide aside so I could have any part of you I wanted, he thought. 

“Impractical.” He said aloud. 

“And you decide what I wear now?”

“No,” he replied through grit teeth. “Of course not.”

“Well, I like it.” Tav shrugged him off, turning away and walking around to look at his progress in the study. 

The dress was just as tight in the back, he noticed, his mind reeling and his pulse thrumming. “Where did you even get it?”

“It was a gift from the priestesses of Umberlee,” she said. 

“And what, pray tell, did you do to earn it?” 

“Freed some hostages in a prison at the bottom of the Chionthar and found the man who killed one of their order.” She listed casually. “Duke Ravenguard was down there, if you can believe it. And then Archduke Gortash, magnanimous man that he is, tried to blow us up,” her tone dripped with sarcasm, “it’s been quite a day.”

“Your usual heroics, then,” he grit out. 

“Of course,” she grinned, and everything about the smile was a challenge, a tease, and he was certain he never wanted her so badly. “I know you love to hear about my gallantry. Not bad for a girl who started the day with a terrible hangover, I think.”

“Is there a point to your visit?” He asked tersely. 

“Actually, yes,” she finally came up to him. 

Close enough to touch. The fabric looked soft, and shimmery, probably pleasant enough to run his hands over but the exposed space between her breasts seemed particularly ripe for licking. His jaw clenched as he made the Herculean effort to look her in the eyes. The teasing look she had before was gone, something a little more bashful and sweet. It only made it harder to keep his hands to himself. 

“I wanted to say thank you for last night.” She said, “I don’t remember all of it… but I know I was not at my best. Thanks for putting up with me, and sorry my friends are busybodies.” 

Rolan didn’t know what to say. A whirlwind was inside him. Pure want and affection. Irritation at said want and affection. Irritation at himself for not being able to just say what he wanted to. This was all getting entirely out of hand. 

“How is your arm?”

“My….arm?”

“You’re still scarred, from that ring you so foolishly put on when you had no idea what it did,” he snapped. 

“Oh, that,” she deflated. “Fine. Just these marks,” she pushed back the sleeves of the robe to look at them. “Gale thinks it was some kind of connection to the elemental plane.” At his responding silence she shifted awkwardly. “Okay,” she drew out the word, “I’m going to go.” 

“Goodbye.”

He stayed to watch her go, eyes glued to the way the robes clung to her bottom, the shift of the fabric and delicate metalwork over her exposed legs. 

“You can’t wear that,” he blurted out. “Not in battle. You’ll be ripped to shreds.”

And so would the robe itself, which would be a terrible shame in and of itself, the more he thought about it.

“You said that already.” 

“It bears repeating.” 

She rolled her eyes. “Goodbye, Rolan.” 

As she stepped through the portal and he was left alone he groaned, rubbing both hands over his face, as he muttered to himself, “you’re going to kill me you meddlesome, irritating, beautiful woman.” 

While there had been little notice before the Netherbrain broke free and started unleashing terror on the city, Tav had at least warned her allies ahead of time that it could happen any day at any time. With Rolan’s permission, Counselor Florrick had spread the word that the tower was going to be one point of haven in the city. It had protections and wards, and plenty of space. When all hells broke loose, Cal and Lia were holding down the fort while he made his way to High Hall. Thankfully most of the fighting was happening in the upper city, but mind flayers were running rampant, the sky was red with fire, full of errant blasts from nautiloids and dragons. 

He sent civilian healers as he found them to the tower, instructing them to take whoever they could with them. The high hall was crowded, Flaming Fists taking account of all the allies of Tav’s which had gathered. Many of them he recognized, some he had never seen before, but his heart swelled with pride at the gathering of people who were ready to support Tav and her friends. 

When she came through the door with all her camp in tow, smattered in blood, as she always was, he thought she may cry at the showing. There wasn’t much time, but she took a moment to appraise them of her plan. Her entire party would take the main push to the brain, along with the illithid she had with her. There was no time to explain, she only assured them that this person — Orpheus, was on their side. She needed anyone she did not call to her side to focus on protecting the few points of refuge they had managed to secure in the city, and above all to keep as many civilians safe as possible. She was given means to summon her allies as needed.

As Tav made the quick effort to offer thanks to everyone individually, he felt the terror of it being the last time he saw her. This was not the Tav which he’d had drinks with at the Elfsong every night leading up to this battle, laughing with her friends, carefree for just a few hours. This was the woman who had lead four people to victory against a small army of Goblins, who stormed Moonrise towers and lifted the curse over Reithwin. Focused, determined and if she was scared it never once showed on her face. Only the storm dancing behind her eyes, calm before she exploded into action. 

Rolan had to believe the next time he’d see her, she would be relaxed and teasing him about something over a glass of wine. As she approached him last, before heading out to save the city, he bolstered himself to be whatever she and the rest of the people of Baldur’s Gate needed. 

“The tower is ready, you need only call.” He told her swiftly. 

“Thank you.” She nodded. “Rolan, I — “ she bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. “If I survive this —“

“You will,” he said certainly. 

“If I do,” she repeated, eyes boring into his with earnesty he hardly knew how to deal with, “would you like to join me for a bottle of Arabellan Dry?”

“Are you asking me on a date? Right now?” As if to punctuate his point the ground shook, horrible screeching sounds and the roar of a dragon sounded out. 

“Might be my last chance,” she breathed. 

“It won’t be,” he insisted. If she was going to be bold enough to ask him out for a drink before running off to certain death — he had to rise to the challenge. He grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. “You’ll come back to me, gloriously and infuriatingly victorious.”

If he said it confidently enough it may just come true. It had worked for him before.

Tav nodded, squeezing his hand in hers. She hesitated, but there was little time for more to be said. She suddenly began to dig under the collar of her armored robes with her free hand. After fidgeting for a moment with something around her neck she held out the chain of the necklace which held her Pearl of Power. 

“Can you hold onto it for me? I don’t want to lose it again.” 

“You may need it,” he was unsure what else to say. 

“Already used it today,” she said, “it’s just sentimental right now. And just — hold onto it. Please.” 

Tav took his hand and placed the necklace into his palm, gently curling his fingers over it. It was such a small trinket, but the implications of her leaving it with him made it feel immeasurably valuable. He thought he would rather die than let it come to any harm. The dramatics of such a train of thought struck him so violently with the realization that he was undoubtedly in love. The terrible timing for such an epiphany was only emphasized by a loud boom on the roof and the shudder of dust and small bits of debris raining down on them.

Tav let go of his hand and with a determination in her eye he knew all too well, led her party out into the midst of terror with no other word. 

There was no time to stop. 

Not even Moonrise nor the Shadowcursed land had been this hectic. They dodged rains of incredible fire from dragons, psionic blast from nautiloids and falling debris from buildings crashing around them. Fighting their way through an army of cultists, mindflayers and intellectual devourers, her team felt as united as ever. Everyone felt the finality of it. She had seen Astarion and Gale share what they thought might possibly be their last kiss. Watching them felt like an intrusion, but the glance she had gotten of desperate softness in their eyes made her more determined than ever. Tav silently vowed that she would come out of this with everyone alive and ready to begin anew. 

When they finally found the  stalk of the Elderbrain it led higher and higher up over the city. She felt the adrenaline spurring her to start to climb, and she didn’t have to look behind her to know they followed. At the top it was an onslaught of psionic forces: the netherbrain, the illithids it commanded, and the tadpoles in their heads revolting at every move they made to fight against them. There were moments that blanked out, as she was stunned or her head hurt so badly she felt she couldn’t see. They were all moving on pure instinct to survive. 

Karlach’s rage was an unstoppable force, Lae’zel cut down anyone in her path with brutal efficiency, and the only thing more intense than the amount of healing magic Shadowheart was expending was the force with which she brought down her mace. Jaheira and Halsin were in charge of summoning reinforcements as needed, controlling the battlefield with Druidic magic while Gale sent off spell after spell with devastating effect. Astarion and Wyll danced around the battlefield; Wyll’s combined magic and skill with the blade making him virtually untouchable while Astarion flitted in and out of visibility, daggers digging into flesh with deadly accuracy. 

And she exploded with magic. 

Her arm hurt, the flowing lines of whatever had touched her when she put on that ring in the tower glowed and raged as she gave everything she had. When she felt she had nothing left, it fed her new power, keeping a steady stream of lightning ready to strike. There was not a lot of time to think on this new development, only time to acknowledge that whatever it did to her, her magic was thriving on it. Her magic felt centered for the first time in her life. Controllable, not just something she was barely wrangling and flinging around blindly. 

The last push to the crown was upon them. The way just needed to be cleared, she called to Halsin over the clamor of it all, tadpole transmitting to the others her plan. In truly rumbling cacophony explosions rained down, almost clearing their path. For a moment she took in the show of power from Ramazith’s Tower, but they had to bolt forward. 

Lae’zel took the lead, attacking an illithid arcanist guarding the portal they needed to get into. Gale was quick behind her, magic missiles firing off in every direction and counterspell quickly cast afterwards. Karlach was keeping the way clear, as more illithid were summoned, hacking at tentacled heads until they rolled off. Tav took off for the portal, only to come face to face with her father. 

No. It was her dream guardian. The Emperor’s trick. 

When she had first seen the man in her dreams she had thought the same thing: he was just similar looking enough to her dear old dad to get her guard down but not so identical it would ring off alarm bells in her mind. Tav’s father was dead, after all, the Emperor had toed the line of familiarity on purpose. The single moment of hesitation was enough for the guardian to blast her with psionic energy, knocking her off of her feet.  An intellect devourer took its chance and leapt onto her. Searing pain spread through her abdomen as claws dug in and tore. It was climbing up her body, ripping skin with every step. Her arm was pinned underneath one of its horrid legs, unable to cast, and she felt the thunderous pulse in her chest, the tingle of electricity in her veins — and then a dagger came down stopping the devourer in its tracks.

Astarion was above her, kicking the thing off of her. With a cry she felt the claws slip loose, blood pouring out of the wounds. The pain slipped away to the back of her mind as she flung forward, hands outstretched  when a chain of lightning erupted at another dream guardian which tried to stop Gale. Astarion helped her to her feet, shoving a meager healing potion at her. It was not enough to close the wounds, but it gave her a rush of new vitality and they ran for the portal

This was it. This was the final task. All they had to do was survive long enough to take out the Netherbrain. 

After setting off the blasts at Halsin’s command, Rolan had launched himself halfway down the stairs, nearly stumbling and stepping on his own tail. There were a handful of Flaming Fists, armed civilians, Cal, Lia and even Aradin guarding the perimeter of the tower; he had to go join them. The store was always chaotic with all the summons wandering around and magical effects but this was a different vein of mayhem. Anyone he could find with healing magic along the way was running around, people were screaming and crying on the floors and any clear surface available. 

It sounded like Elturel. 

Shaking his head of the thought, he pushed through the doors. People were still running, trying to get through the doors of the tower and whatever building still stood to get away from the carnage. The square was full of bodies and blood and rubble. He spotted Cal and Lia, both alive and fighting well. Cal’s swing was strong, Lia’s aim was impeccable — he was able to focus on casting. An illithid floated forward, chasing after a meal of one of the Flaming Fists' brains, Rolan quickly cast color spray, confusing the creature and shortly after one of Lia’s arrows sunk into its elongated head.

Cal got stunned, his head in his hands as he wobbled on his feet, two mindflayers floating towards him. Rolan nearly tripped over his robes to grab his brother by his shirt and pull him back, Cal fell and as soon as he was out of the line of attack Rolan felt the boom of thunder erupt from his hand. The illithids were sent backwards, landing on their back, prone. 

“Cal,” he turned to offer a hand to his brother, “stay steady.” 

“Yeah,” Cal grunted, shaking his head free of the psionic force which had stunned him. “I’m good, I’m alright.” 

“Rolan! Incoming!” 

Lia’s voice called out before she let an arrow loose. His eyes flicked to the sky, a nautiloid was overhead, a beam of some sort beginning to glow with energy. 

“To me! Now!”

Aradin and anyone nearby enough to hear him huddled close, Rolan swiftly casting an orb of invulnerability. He had never cast it before, not successfully, but it was all he could think of to try. A slight red shimmer created a bubble around them, the nautiloid made its attack. A few people were decimated by the blow immediately outside of the orb, even a ravenous illithid in the middle of extracting a brain from a skull had not made it out of the way in time. The spell worked. Rubble flew into the air with the blast, and stopped bluntly at the barrier. 

Thank the Gods. Rolan thought to himself, sweat beading down his temple. 

Lia ducked in and out of the orb to shoot off arrows, clearing the path for some to make their way to the tower or within the confines of Rolan’s temporary protection. He managed to keep the orb up long enough for the blasts to cede after the nautiloid was distracted from attacking the ground by a Githyanki force of dragon riders. 

“There’s more coming!” Aradin yelled. “We should fall back into the tower.”

“The wards can only take so much,” Rolan snapped back. “Get out there and kill something or get out of the way!”

He never understood Zevlor’s well-known ire for the mercenary more as he fled inside. As he had said, more illithids came out of the woodwork. The alien army had not found it necessary to send any armored mind flayers — relying on the freshly transformed tadpoled masses which had been lurking in the city. They had numbers, but most of them were stark naked, and sloppy in the unusual new bodies. Many of them fell quickly, which was his only comfort against the slowly dwindling numbers of his own allies. If they just kept it up, they could maintain the line of defense around the tower. 

“Come on, Tav,” he heard Lia scream as another Flaming Fist fell to an illithid. “Just kill it already!” 

There was no way for Tav to hear them, but he understood the panic. He felt each second that passed since he set off the blasts from the tower as if it were an hour. They could not keep this up forever, and part of him knew that as intense as it was on the ground, up there where the brain hovered in the air it was ten times worse. 

“Tav needs us to hold strong,” he called to his sister. “We owe her that, at least.” 

Lia was too far away for him to be sure but thought he saw her jaw set in the same way Cal’s did when he was concentrating. His brother felled an illithid in one blow, clean and easy at the neck. 

“Can’t believe I’m saying this,” Cal said, “but Rolan is right!”

It truly was the end of the world.

When Tav hit the water, she blacked out for a moment. Her eyes opened and the gasp that wracked her body filled her mouth and lungs with water as she realized too late in her waking that she was in the Chionthar. She floundered to the surface, hacking and coughing. Once she had her breath, she started screaming for her companions.

“Here!” Gale yelled.

He was not too far off from her, hanging onto some floating debris, with an unmoving lump with white hair. She swam over, grabbing onto the debris. 

“Is he alive?” She panicked. 

“Breathing,” Astarion’s voice was weak, “stop screaming.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Tav felt herself succumbing to the confusion. “Karlach! Have you seen anyone? Wyll!”

“I’ve got Shadowheart and Wyll!” She heard Karlach call, a red spot in the distance, tethering two limp bodies as she kept them on their backs. 

Lae’zel, Halsin, Minsc and Jaheira were still unaccounted for. Tav’s eyes scanned the water, dawn hadn’t broken yet, it was still dark and the depths below were impossible to see into. The only real light was provided by the city which was still very much on fire. Just as Tav was about to give into despair, a giant tentacle broke the water, then another, in its grips was an unconscious Lae’zel, and Minsc who was sputtering and cackling like a madman. Finally a third, and Halsin broke the surface. 

“Minsc! Where’s Jaheira?”

“You look upon her!” He called back. 

Wild shape was one hell of a thing. Tav called to the giant octopus whose eye peered into hers as it breached the surface, telling Jaheira to grab Karlach first as she was treading water and trying to keep two people afloat at the same time. Tav watched, only vaguely hearing Astarion and Gale speaking next to her. She needed to see them all safely put upon the dock, she needed to know she had done it. She hadn’t lost anyone. 

“Stop trying to talk to me,” Astarion muttered. “I’m furious with you.”

“My love, I would have made sure you were transported out of harm's way,” Gale attempted to sooth him. 

“And what about you?” Astarion snapped. “What was I supposed to do without you?” 

She was not quite sure what they were talking about. 

“We were losing, Astarion,” Gale pleaded. “The orb may have been—“

“The orb?” Tav heard her neck crack as she swung her head so fast to look at him. She felt dizzy. 

“He very nearly blew himself up, again,” Astarion seethed. “I saw him reach for the dagger.” 

“Gale!” Tav scolded. “I told you — not an option!”

“Tav, please, if all else failed —“

“But it didn’t!” She yelled. 

“No,” he sighed. “No, it did not. So please, can we make it to land and put this to rest.” 

Just as Tav was about to argue with him, she felt a tug at her midsection, and uncomfortable stinging of pain accompanying the grasp. Astarion and Gale were lifted out of the water by tentacles  at the same time she was and they were being slowly carried to the dock. It was supposed to be over once they all made it on dry land. She had given in to the hope that she had finally led her party to their final battle without losing a single member. The victory was supposed to be sweet, and cathartic. 

The moment they caught their breath on the dock, Karlach’s engine started to fail. 

The main floor of the store was cleared of most furniture to make room for cots full of injured people. Amateur and professional healers alike were running around madly, calling for aid from whoever was still standing. To his credit, he had begun to organize as best he could. It was still chaos, but he was managing to take requests, send off whatever volunteer was nearest to assist, and have Cal take on grabbing potions and herbs from the stores as needed. Rolan was no healer, but he could wrap a wound before too much blood was lost as some poor soul waited for someone to be available. He could also bark orders, arrange for Fists to section off high risk patients from those who could survive without immediate attention. 

There were two surgeons he had managed to recruit. Their space was at the very back near the necromancy supplies were, with a temporary shielding wall of stone. It didn’t drown the screams of agony as they operated but it prevented anyone from witnessing an amputation. 

When the heroes of the hour burst through the door of the tower, even amongst the chaos, Rolan knew something was wrong. They looked like hell. Jaheira was bleeding from a deep wound on her head, Shadowheart was limping, and even Minsc who was always quick to get back on his feet looked like he had been thrown from a twenty story building and felt it. A good chunk of the party was missing. Wyll and Karlach were nowhere to be seen. In fact way too many of them were just gone. Astarion, Gale and Lae’zel didn’t follow, and neither did Tav. Halsin was the very last of them in, carrying someone.

“A bed! Now!” The Archdruid’s voice boomed over the chaos

A humming sound rang in his ears, the entire world pinpointed to the form of the woman in Halsin’s arms as he was directed to place her on a free bed by a Fist. 

Rolan let his feet guide him to her side, a numb feeling keeping panic at bay. On the bed was a bloody mess of a woman, who in all appearances looked like Tav but… That surely wasn’t his Tav. That was an empty shell; the skin had no vibrancy, the only truly bright color was the blood leaking out of the deep wound in her stomach. Her eyes, open staring up at the ceiling, were empty. 

Shadowheart placed her hands over Tav and the glow of her healing magic flashed and ebbed away. She tried again, but the magic stuttered out. Shadowheart let out a strangled scream in frustration, pounding glowing hands into Tav's chest and each rush of power was weaker and weaker.

“What are you doing? Heal her,” Rolan demanded. “Fix her!”

“I can’t —“ Shadowheart’s voice cracked. 

“Shadowheart’s magic is spent,” Jaheira’s tone was sharp but even, the voice of a General. “And healing magic won’t work on her now. This is a magic shop — find a resurrection scroll.” 

Resurrection implied she was dead. Logically, yes, he could see that. Tav was dead, nothing more than spent flesh and blood. But this was not supposed to happen, this was beyond everything he knew of her.

She always survives. She always does the impossible. She can't be dead.

“How did this happen?”

“Rolan,” Shadowheart pleaded his name, disregarding the question, “do you have a resurrection scroll?” 

The buzzing in his ears stopped, the cacophony of the tower coming back to him. A solution that he could focus on. He took off in a sprint, jumping over the counter. His hands shook as he opened the safe where they kept the high value scrolls.  

“Rolan, that Florrick lady is here, she brought some — what’s wrong?”

He didn’t hear Lia come up, and didn’t take the time to acknowledge her as he started reading through the stock. “We must have one.”

“Talk to me,” Lia said again getting his attention, “what’s happened?”

An idea jolted him, there were stores and stores of supplies in the study. “Upstairs, in the study, the scroll collection —“ he quickly said, “we need a resurrection scroll.”

“But —“

“Check the vaults, check the study — find me a resurrection scroll!” 

Taking in his frantic tone, Lia ran off without further question. There was no possible way this was how Tav’s story ended. In a numb haze he remembered what little he knew about healing and divine magic; there was a time limit on a basic resurrection spell. At some point a soul was too far gone and True Resurrection would be the only other option. Plain resurrection scrolls were rare enough as it was, but a True Resurrection scroll was near impossible for most people to get ahold of. 

Chain of lightning, hold person, cloud kill — his hands fumbled to work as fast as he read the scrolls. He had no real idea how much time was passing, but each second was too long. There were dozens of scrolls, and he looked at each one. Finding nothing of use he ran around the counter to start up the stairs.

He should have told her at High Hall. He should have just said it. He should have thought to find a scroll ahead of time for this very purpose. What a cosmic joke, for her to have made it this far, only to die at the finish line. She deserved better. He would make sure she got a better ending than this. He nearly ran into Lia jumping the last few steps of the staircase. 

“I found one!” 

She held up the scroll and he snatched it out of her hand, narrowly dodging a healer as he ran to the bed where Shadowheart was praying desperately. 

“Found — the scroll —“ he stammered out, short of breath. 

“Use it, quickly,” Jaheira said. 

His fingers fumbled with the clasp that held it shut, as it unfurled he knew he needed to breathe through the panic in his chest. He could do an incantation, he could read the words off of a scroll as he had a hundred times before. There was not a God he prayed to usually, not one he thought to plead with specifically. Mystra, maybe. But given what he knew of her and her friends, Mystra might not be so inclined to help Tav. 

His willpower would have to be enough; this was not how her story ended, he repeated to himself. She was too good, too resilient, too kind, too forgiving, too infuriatingly wonderful — too loved.  Rolan was not going to let her disappear that easily, he vowed as he spoke the incantation.

The spell took hold, golden light shuddering Tav’s body, and then disappearing. For a terrifyingly long moment, he was unsure if it worked. But her eyes blinked, at first it looked like a twitch, but then they fluttered a few times and the light was back in them. Her limbs jolted like she had been electrocuted and then a truly shocking deep gasp for air had her sitting up on the cot. 

“There you are, Cub,” Jaheira said, a steady hand on her shoulder which emitted the familiar green light of her Druidic magic. “Didn’t think we’d let you get out of cleaning up, did you?”

“Hurts,” she sucked breaths in desperately. 

“Lay down,” Shadowheart said. “We’ll find a healer.”

“Where —?”

Rolan was frozen to the spot. She still looked so close to death. Her head swiveled over to him, eyes confusedly still searching for some sense of what was going on. 

“You.” Was all she said. 

“Yeah, me,” he breathed. “Lay down. You look awful.”

“Rude,” she wheezed but let herself ease onto her back. “I think you look… good…” exhaustion, pain or any combination of whatever her body was going through had her slipping out of consciousness. 

“Tav,” Rolan panicked, kneeling next to her. “Damn you, stay awake,” he grabbed her face in his hands and she gave him a heavy lidded stare. 

“Trying,” she said. 

She was still in rough shape. Halsin and Jahiera dumped the last dregs of their limited healing magic into her, doing just enough to keep her from bleeding out on the bed once more. Shadowheart tipped her head back for a basic healing potion, and it dribbled down the side of her face but it brought some of the vibrancy of her skin.

“She won’t succumb to the wounds, but she needs healing quickly,” Halsin seemed to be talking to himself more than them, as he took off to find someone to help. 

“You can rest now,” Shadowheart assured her softly. “Right, Rolan?” 

He wasn’t so sure. But Shadowheart was a healer, she knew better than him. He swallowed hard, and nodded. “That’s right.”

“Good,” Tav mumbled, “tired.” 

Shadowheart and Rolan watched as she slipped into unconsciousness. Her chest rose and fell, although shallowly. Shadowheart heaved a big breath, recomposing herself. She looked around the room, and then to Rolan.

“I need to rest, then I’ll be able to help,” she seemed to be telling herself rather than him. “I’ll stay here,” she said, “I’ll stay with her and rest.”

“What can I do?” Rolan asked desperately. 

“You are the Master of Ramazith’s tower,” Jahiera cut in. “This is your city, you have a duty to its people now — unless you wish to follow Lorroakan’s example, get to work.” Jaheira looked down at Tav, “we will look after her, as she has looked after us.”

Rolan never felt more like an outsider, and he felt he should watch whatever healer Halsin found. If only to see for himself that she was truly going to be alright. Shadowheart was watching the rise and fall of her chest with intense focus, and it felt wrong that she was the only one of their original group by her side. 

“Rolan, there’s a fire that they can’t put out over in Heapside,” Cal was there, Rolan hadn’t even heard him approach. 

“There’s summoning scrolls, water elementals,” he said distractedly. 

“Go,” Shadowheart looked at him. “We’ve got her.”

“And that is supposed to be a comfort?” He snapped. “She was dead just moments ago under your watch!”

“She didn’t tell us,” Shadowheart said back, a tone of shame in her raised voice. “Everything was happening so fast — she didn’t tell us she was hurt!”

“No one here is to blame,” Jaheira was annoyed, he could tell by the arch of her brow. “She would tell you the same.”

He felt another comment on the tip of his tongue, ready to rage and yell to do something with the gods awful feeling in his chest. He nearly lost her. 

“Rolan,” Cal said, “we have to —“

“Fine! Fine.” 

The city still needed saving, despite the threat being gone. Who knew how much help was needed across the city. Running to everyone's rescue was what she would tell him to do, but still he was afraid to leave her side. He touched her cheek: warm, alive, despite looking worse than she ever had after a fight. 

“She’ll be alright?” He asked, wincing slightly at the desperate crack in his voice. 

Shadowheart nodded, her hand coming to squeeze his, “I promise, I won’t let her slip away again.”

Rolan had no other choice but to trust her.

Thank you for reading!

Next Chapter

[herbgerblin]

ipre theater thots

loosely based off of this poll. sorry, this got away from me. i was a theater kid for years (i still am, i literally made a bunch of friends larp as wizards two weeks ago)

Davenport: Producer and Stage Manager. Personally more experienced in opera than musicals, but answers the call when the need for a manager arises. Keeps everyone focused and on schedule. Has final word on what choices the art department gets to make. Sometimes does solo performances on his own time.

Merle: Choreographer and Director. Leads the ensemble into meditation every rehearsal before warming up. Talks with each member of the cast one-on-one. Sometimes leaves the script open to interpretation. His artistic vision sounds bonkers in concept, but illuminating in execution. Why are there so many plants? Don't worry about it.

Magnus: Lead Actor and Set Builder. He brings the energy every single night. He doesn't need to be micc'ed up because his natural voice projects well enough. It takes a bit of time for him to memorize the script, but he devotes his heart and soul to it. He claps loudly for the ensemble when he's in the wings. He cries at the emotional numbers. Built all the sets by hand.

Lucretia: Co-stage Manager and Supporting Actor (not for lack of chops, only because she spreads herself very thin.) Knows the script like a second language. Mainly reserves her Director Voice for backstage when things get chaotic. Enjoys performing the musical numbers because no one knows she can belt, until she does. Standing ovation girlie, but bashful about it.

Lup: Co-lead Lead Actor and Costumer. Only willing to do the role if Davenport lets her include cold sparks and fog machines in the set budget (he finds a way.) No one knows when she took measurements for the costumes, but they're ready by dress rehearsal and they fit perfectly. Helps the other actors figure out their groove. Great at engaging the audience.

Angus (special edition): Child lead and stagehand. The sweetest little singing voice you ever did hear. Everyone is going to rue the day his voice starts cracking. A heartbreaker of a performer and a speedy backstage assistant.

Taako: A MYSTERY. He's wearing a fancy scarf and roaming all over the place. He's talking about the Art of the Theatre. He's listed on the billing of lead actors and NO ONE knows what his role is. He remembers all the little things that everyone forgets: clothes pins, a hot glue gun, and electrolytes. He's got a walkie-talkie. Only the managers and tech are supposed to have walkie-talkies. Hello, this is Taako speaking, over.

Barry: Usually Tech. He's got a beautifully choreographed queue of lighting designs and stage effects. He's got an immaculately labeled pad controller and a ready-to-go Excel spreadsheet. But on opening night, Lucretia informs him he's in the orchestra pit.

Barry: ...But I'm lighting tonight.

Lucretia (via walkie-talkie): And our percussionist twisted his ankle tripping over a stage light. You're in the orchestra now, compadre.

Barry: (with increasing emphasis, decreasing conviction) But. I'm. Light. Tech.

Taako: E N T E R T H E P I T B A R O L D

Davenport: Taako, get off this line.

During intermission, Magnus asks him to help lift the ensemble dancers onto the set scaffolding, and hold it steady. Barry agrees, thinking he's in the clear after that. But the second the music number ends, Merle tells him that one of the support roles had to leave, so now he's the understudy.

Barry (longsuffering): I am just. the light guy.

Merle (gesturing to Taako in the balcony, having a ballgame playing with the lightboard): well, in two minutes you're the showstopper guy, so you need to go out there and stop the show

Lup (emerging from nowhere, slapping a red, hooded robe on Barold's shoulders): Knock 'em dead!

Barry: D:

[miryum]

I had a thought—

So Hogwarts was founded around 990 CE, right? Up to when Harry attended, that gives us about 1000 years that Rowling didn't cover or explore. And that means 1000 year of troubles that I have questions about

1000-1300 CE: Okay, so like, medieval times. Can we talk about the sexism that would be here? How did the professors handle that? The girls would have to wear these horrid clothes and expect to have flying lessons? Or were flying lessons only for the boys? How much of Hogwarts was gender segregated? And the Holy Roman Empire was all the rage. That means ultra-Christianity. What if a kid from upper Scotland came in and worshipped polytheism? What then? Would the other kids have burned them or killed them?

1400 CE: This was when witch burnings/huntings were getting popular. I'm assuming that the kids were safe when they got to Hogwarts, but what about Muggleborns? If a guy dressed in robes came to this peasant's mudhut and said "your daughter's a witch!" you're telling me that those parents wouldn't burn their daughter at the stake? And yes, wizards/witches could easily hide their abilities once they graduated, but what if they had a kid that came out magical? How would you explain that your baby is levitating to the townsfolk? Or what if you married a muggle? Would you have to hide your identity your entire marriage? Would you have to hope your kids weren't magical like you? And what if you're a woman who then marries an awful muggle man and you know you're stronger than him and can kill him extremely easily in his sleep, but you can't because it's 1400 CE?!?!

1500 CE: We're getting to the Renaissance right now, okay? So all these kids are beginning to explore literal magic and you're telling me they didn't mix that with the new inventions of the era? Was Galileo or Michelangelo really a wizard? And if all these inventors/thinkers were wizards, who else? Magic has spanned all of time, apparently, so were the pyramids built with magic? (sorry, that was a small side tangent.) And then the Reformation came along and split everyone into different religions. Were there tensions among Catholic/Lutheran students? What about the teachers? What if a Lutheran fell in love with a Catholic at school? What then?

1600-1700 CE: Now lemme ask about social classes. How big of a problem was that? And I think we all know that this problem spanned much longer than just the two centuries I'm giving it. Imagine if a Dutch aristocrat's daughter was admitted to Hogwarts and "oh, it's just a fancy boarding school?" you tell the parents, "great! she can go" so then she gets there, all dressed to the nines with the ballgowns and big wigs and finds out she has to room with a peasant girl and an artist's daughter. Can you imagine?! And yes, maybe they would've become friends, but realistically, probably not. The daughter would demand her own room, but the headmaster couldn't do that, so what would happen? Would she order her new roommates to help her get dressed each morning? Would she look down her nose at them? Would there be different tables in the Great Hall for the upper class? I'm assuming that the professors would have different viewpoints concerning what their background was, so would the Dutch daughter be aghast when her professor (who used to be a blacksmith's apprentice) takes her down a notch and hits her in front of the whole class? And what would recreational activities be like? Yes, everyone would have the same uniforms during class, but can you imagine a guy walking up to you on a lazy Sunday dressed in his powdered wig and golden coattails with their weirdly high white socks and buckled shoes?

1800 CE: Slavery. We know that had to have been racial segregation, right? And even if Europe was all progressive and abolished slavery starting in the 1400s, some countries definitely still had slavery. And don't even get me started on America and Ilvermorny. Being a Southern belle and then having to take classes and eat in the same room from the same plates as someone that looks like the slaves your father owns? (What about the fucking Civil War?! Confederates and unionists in the same school?!) And I'm sure the same thing happened in Hogwarts! And I didn't even mention the Transatlantic Slave Trade in the 1500-1800s!! How did Hogwarts handle racism? If they just banned all non-whites from the premise, then they lost a large chunk of the next generation of wizards and witches. And those poor boys and girls they banned. Imagine having all these strange phenomenons happen your entire life and have no idea why or trying to hide them because you didn't go to Hogwarts and learned what they were or how to channel them!

1900-2000 CE: Oh my fucking god. Where to begin? The style is drastically different from the 1600s. Now students are coming in with flappers dresses and their hair slicked back and everything and professors are like, "what the fuck?" Did the Yule Ball have different types of dancing? I'm assuming so. Were their more dances because the students loved it? And then the fucking Great Depression hits and now most students can't even buy the necessary textbooks to come to school. Most are needed by their families for work (AND ALSO!!! I didn't mention, but in medieval times, did parents even let their kids go to Hogwarts? They needed them to work the fields or stuff.) Then, growing anti-semitism starts up and some of the students are discriminated against because of their religion, just like back in 1000-1300 CE. The World Wars happen and what if a German kid (who's being indoctrinated and I can go on a whole other rant about children in Germany I swear, don't get me started because I will defend the kids until my last breath) is proudly wearing a swastika just like his daddy and then sees a Jewish kid and starts yelling slurs, just like his dad does? How many kids did Hogwarts save from concentration camps? Did the magical kids beg for the muggle siblings to come and stay at Hogwarts to save them from Auschwitz? Then there were hardly any boys for a generation because they were all off fighting a goddamn war! Things started to chill out for a while until kids came into Hogwarts wearing bell bottoms and tye-die and the girls were burning their bras and were the boys cheering them on or was there serious backlash? How much fucking weed was passed around in the 70s? (This is the marauder era btw.) Did the gay wizards/witches finally feel safe enough about coming out? Or were there too many people against them still? OR, did the homophobic people learn to be more accepting because they had to be? Because they were in the same classes, same dorms, same everything as gays? What about magic birth control? Or, was everyone too worried about Voldemort to burn their bras and come out as gay? How much did Voldemort truly influence the Wizarding World? And then Harry fucking Potter came along, the 90s happened and now, his kids have just graduated! I'm assuming Hogwarts has to have changed with technology, but how much? Do professors think magic is losing the battle to technology or are Muggleborns actually still more fascinated by magic than their phones (I'm assuming if you saw someone change from a human to a cat, that'd be more cool than a TikTok, but who knows?!) Does Hogwarts have WiFi and outlets? Or are kids forbidden from technology? And how did kids from the 80s-90s keep up with technology? Did they all just trapse down to a small town by Hogsmead and have to catch up with all the blockbuster movies there?

In short, I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

[naughtybg3confessions]

A date with Rolan to a fancy gala, invited as one of Baldur’s Gate’s most notable couples: its Hero and Archmage. He looks beautiful in his new robes, the rich crimson red of all the wine he’s drinking tonight. Which is a lot, because although he likes the idea of being a fêted wizard, the actual practicalities of socialising as one are tedious to him. Worse, he despises the poor bathroom facilities at such gatherings. No damned privacy at all. And so, as the evening wears on, he begins to look… a little flushed. Stressed, perhaps.

As you pull him close in an embrace, teasingly trying to persuade him to dance, he whimpers against you, and you realise his stomach is pressing against yours, unusually round… and as you brush your hand over it he whispers, agonised, in your ear that you need to get out of here, now. He’ll conjure an arcane gate, take you straight back home to the Tower - but the swell of his cock beneath his clothes gives you a better idea.

The next thing you know, you’re both in an empty, silent alley, your hand pressing against his bladder as he clings to you, moaning and gasping until he pisses himself, almost crying from relief and embarrassment - and then you’re both so turned on that you simply have to fuck right here in this alleyway, in his pretty wet clothes beneath the stars.

(i will write this fic one day but my wip list is too damn long.)

[beckpoppinscosplay]

Ladies, Germs, and assorted beloved Fruits, may I present the Zmeess robe, my secret sewing project of the last few months.

We all know I have a soft spot in my heart for the critical role character Essek Thelyss but alas, he never called for me to cosplay him.

The wonderful artist @zmeess draws him SO handsome and designs his clothing SO elegantly that the temptation to sew something grew and grew till instead of a cosplay, I simply had to make one of Zmeess’ wizard robes as a regular piece of clothing for me.

the artwork I fell in love with

Zmeess was EXTREMELY kind in giving me the go ahead to get sewing and I’m so happy with how it turned out. I did some edits of my own to make the jacket wearable and practical (adding a contrasting lining to the torso, keeping it tea length and shortening the sleeves a smidge, adding a few extra beads here and there).I can’t wait to find a day fancy enough to wear it out (the theater! or a nice elegant dinner! a wedding if the couple wont judge me) and once the local weather stops raining I plan to take a shoot outside with some different more natural styling and you can all see it from neck to ankle.

As a plus sized person its always nice to explore volume and purposeful obfuscation of shape when fashion dictates that we take up less room and look as thin as possible. Making myself a big elegant wizard robe that turns me into a mystery is extremely refreshing! As a cosplayer its kind of nice to do a reverse closet cosplay (instead of making a costume out of clothing I own, I am making fictional clothing to go in my regular closet with no costumes involved) and its something i could see myself doing more in the future.

If you are interested in how I made this I will be doing a full breakdown on instagram including the embroidery, pattern drafting/hacking, and all the fiddly details.