#seras campaign

[crabbyhellfire]

ooh you draw my dnd oc sooooo bad

I draw your dnd oc developing a wet crush on mine

[dear-odile]

Izzy headcanons?? I think he would’ve really been into baking in his spare time 🥰

sorry for the late reply anon!

I was literally thinking last night that Izzy would be a baker if given the opportunity so I 100% support that headcanon!

My Izzy headcanons. Some sad, some random:

calls Kai hot nonchalantly

attempted before

(/ref)

Okay but seriously:

He would have one of those “historical baking” tiktok pages but it’s literally all just gladiator rations from the year 1238 or whatever

He wants to grow a beard but doesn’t like the texture of the hair with his helmet (I think either his va or someone in the cast mentioned his original design had a beard and it’s been living rent free in my mind)

He and Odile have matching friendship bracelets (I love this one soooo much I think Odile would make them but if anyone asks she would say Izzy did.)

He likes to garden, but he isn’t very good at it.

He tries to learn how to draw, and he eventually gets super good, because he’s trying to sketch the faces of Dona and his friends because he’s worried he’ll forget their faces.

Has done yaoi (this one is basically canon b/c his VA said that he committed colosseum yaoi and what she says goes imo)

I think he secretly really likes sweets and sweet drinks

Would wear a “i flexed the sleeves off this shirt” muscle tee unironically

[islwyn-the-heartless]

The Call to Battle

A/N: Just a little something... A while ago I was thinking about him and wrote an izzy fic of him killing someone when he was still a gladiator

---

Title: The Call to Battle

Summary: Islwyn Blackrock is a gladiator known for his ruthless fighting style. He enters the arena to cheers from the crowd and is determined to keep his place.

Words: 2,461

CW for violence, and izzy literally killing someone ig

The deafening roar of the crowd echoed through Islwyn's thoughts as he strode onto the arena floor. Coarse sand crunched beneath his sandals, sending trails of dust swirling around him. Towering stone walls rose high above, their monolithic forms casting long shadows that stretched across the expansive battleground. Islwyn let his gaze wander over the faces in the stands, taking in the mix of emotions flickering across spectators from all walks of life.

Some watched with gleaming eyes, practically vibrating in their seats with pure excitement. For them, the arena was more than just entertainment - it was primal, it was visceral. It allowed them to escape, if only for a moment, from the rigours of everyday life in a rapidly changing world. Others observed with practised nonchalance, as if the violence on display meant little more than a distraction from tedious matters of politics and commerce. A few among the nobility even looked bored, regarding the proceedings as little more than primitive savagery unworthy of their scholarly minds.

And scattered throughout were those whose frenzied anticipation bordered on bloodlust, hanging on the warriors' every clash of steel with a hungry fixation. Islwyn felt a pang of disgust at their unbridled thirst for mayhem, but he brushed it aside. This was his arena, where he had built a reputation as one of the deadliest fighters to ever grace the sands. Today, that reputation would be put to the test like never before.

The metallic screech of gates being drawn open pulled Islwyn's attention back to the matter at hand. His opponent had arrived, and by the escalating roar of the spectators, this was no ordinary challenger. Muscles tensed in anticipation, Islwyn turned to face the shadowy entranceway, bracing himself for what was to come.

A hulking silhouette emerged from the gloomy passageway, its sheer mass blocking out what little sunlight filtered in from overhead. Islwyn stiffened as inch by inch, the figure stepped into the light - and it was all he could do to stop his hands from trembling at the sight. This warrior wasn't just legendary, he was downright monolithic, a veritable mountain of corded muscle and scar tissue.

Grimmjaw the Ruthless lived up to his moniker, radiating an aura of brutal prowess that caused even the boldest onlookers to shrink back in their seats. A bristling mane of dark hair framed a face that was all harsh angles and cruel sneers, bearing the marks of countless violent encounters. And in his massive palms rested an axe the size of a grown man, its chipped edge glinting hungrily.

If the roar of the crowd had been deafening before, it was now approaching apocalyptic levels. Men and women alike screamed themselves hoarse, some calling for Grimmjaw in savage devotion while others remained loyal to Islwyn's cause. Money and jewellery changed hands wildly as last-minute bets were placed, gambling on which warrior would emerge the victor from this epic clash.

Islwyn took a deep, steadying breath as Grimmjaw joined him in the centre of the combat zone. They circled slowly, sizing one another up while thousands of rapt onlookers hung on their every motion. Islwyn's eyes roved over his hulking adversary, analysing every inch for potential weaknesses to exploit. But Grimmjaw was a perfect specimen, without any discernible flaws to target. His rugged physique rippled with coiled power, giving the impression of a wild beast barely kept in check by its own flesh and sinew.

Their eyes met, and Islwyn saw nothing but cold calculation behind Grimmjaw's predatory gaze. Whatever humanity may have once existed in the man had long since been beaten out of him, leaving only a remorseless engine of destruction hungry for bloodshed. Grimmjaw's lip curled in barely restrained malice, as if daring Islwyn to make the first move and hasten his demise.

Islwyn schooled his features, refusing to give his opponent the satisfaction of seeing fear. He knew Grimmjaw, like any true warrior, fed off the vulnerability of others. But Islwyn had faced too many challenges, endured too much pain, to crumble under mere intimidation. His hands tightened around the shaft of his morningstar, fingers calloused and thickened from countless battles. This would be his greatest test yet, but fall he would not.

The deafening clamour of the spectators swelled like a physical force, pressing in from all sides as the warriors continued their tactical gauging. Behind Grimmjaw's impassive mask, Islwyn sensed a well of simmering violence barely contained, the primal urges of a killer through and through. But underneath the facade of ruthless ferocity, he glimpsed another emotion - one that caused his stomach to twist uncomfortably.

Loathing, bare and vengeful, simmered just below Grimmjaw's cold eyes. Whatever personal history lay between them, matters of past wrongs and perceived slights, it lent an extra layer of toxicity to their imminent duel. This fight would be about more than pride or victory - for Grimmjaw, it was personal.

And in that moment, Islwyn knew true fear. Grimmjaw fought not just to win, but to destroy completely. Any mercy or restraint would be nonexistent in the barbarism to come. Only one of them would walk away intact, while the other left broken and defeated. Yet despite the terror writhing in his gut, Islwyn straightened to his full height and stared his foe down, letting no weakness show. This was it - the moment of truth before an onslaught that would test his limits like never before.

The two combatants tensed, coiled springs waiting to unleash pent-up violence. Breaths slowed as focus intensified, tuning out the screams and cheers of the bloodthirsty audience. Time itself seemed to slow to a crawl, the whole arena holding its collective breath. In the space between one heartbeat and the next, some unseen signal passed between grizzled opponents.

As one, they lunged with savage grace, Islwyn whirling his spiked flail while Grimmjaw swung his mammoth axe in a punishing arc. The impact shook the arena to its foundations, a colossal BOOM that silenced even the rowdiest spectators in stunned disbelief. Then pandemonium erupted as their gleaming weapons sang in a lethal dance, carving arcs of silver through the muggy air.

Blow met block in a cacophony of clanging steel, the force of each collision jolting bone-deep. Islwyn pivoted and spun in a graceful whirlwind, morningstar lashing out with the speed of a striking snake. Grimmjaw lumbered behind his shielding axe, meeting each strike head-on with shocking resilience. Their battle was a skillful display that enthralled the masses, two masters pushing each other to new limits through violence alone.

Blood began to flow as nicks and cuts accumulated, sprinkling the sands below in droplets that darkened the ground. Islwyn felt a sting along his ribs that heralded the first touch of Grimmjaw's axe, slipping past his guard for just a moment. A strangled grunt escaped at the sharp sting, but he didn't slow, retaliating with a two-handed swing that jolted Grimmjaw's shoulder with an audible crack.

The larger man roared in pain and fury, a blood curdling sound that lifted the hairs on Islwyn's nape. Pure animosity radiated from Grimmjaw's bulging frame as he redoubled his assault, axe moving with inhuman speed. Islwyn retreated step by step, parrying and weaving around the barrage as best he could. Sweat poured in rivulets down his corded muscles from the concentrated effort, making his iron grip slippery.

Their dance of destruction carried them across the ring, tracing chaotic patterns through the dust. Grimmjaw crowded Islwyn towards the chain link fence separating spectators from combat, manoeuvring to pen him in. But Islwyn proved as agile as any cornered animal, using the barrier to launch himself sideways in a spinning manoeuvre. His morningstar whistled through the air and slammed into Grimmjaw's unprotected flank with a meaty crunch, tearing scarlet furrows in his flesh.

Grimmjaw bellowed in agony, features twisting into something downright demonic. Blood streamed from the ragged gashes, already staining the sand crimson beneath his boots. Yet through sheer force of will, he refused to fall, counter attacking with a two-handed overhead smash meant to cleave bone. Islwyn snapped his weapon up just in time, the jolting impact sending spikes of pain shooting up both arms.

Locking eyes, they saw only merciless reflections of themselves - savage killers intent on spilling the other's lifeblood, no matter the cost. This wasn't a simple battle any longer, but a clash of wills, a test of which held the firmest grip on survival. Around them, the spectators were reduced to an incomprehensible din, their frenzied vibrations blending into the primal rhythm dictating the warriors' movements.

Time and again steel met with ear-splitting clangs, a blistering exchange that left no room for rest or recovery. Battered and heaving, Grimmjaw and Islwyn poured all their strength, skill and concentrated Islwyn and Grimmjaw continued their brutal clash, pushing past surging waves of fatigue as their limbs grew leaden. All reason had fled in the throes of battle madness, primal instincts taking over completely.

Grimmjaw snarled and snapped like a feral beast, crimson spittle flying from his lips with each crazed swing. His muscles spasmed and buckled, yet still he fought on through sheer willpower alone. Across from him, Islwyn panted heavily, vision tunnelling down to Grimmjaw's form. Every jarring impact left him reeling, yet he could not - would not - back down.

Their circling footsteps traced a frenzied spiralling pattern through the sand-strewn arena floor. At the centre, spatters of blood mingled amid the dust to form a macabre whirlpool of violence. Spectators screamed themselves hoarse with each blow exchanged, some standing on precarious perches atop the barrier walls to get a better view of the savage spectacle unfolding below.

Gambling fortunes changed hands faster than ever amid a dizzying blur of activity. Nobles shouted colourful insults and encouragement down at the fighters, caught up in carnal thrills untouchable in more civilised circles. Common folk waved banners and tossed coloured powders into the air, representing their favoured warrior in a riotous display.

Through it all, the combatants plunged ever deeper into a private hell forged from steel and sweat, every remaining shred of thought drowned out under an overwhelming flood of instinct. Survival itself had become the sole motivating force, primal directive screaming louder than any rational voice left in their frayed minds.

Something had to give. After what felt like an eternity, Grimmjaw slipped - just slightly, a twitch of his boot sole in drying sand. But it was all the opening Islwyn needed, summoning his last vestiges of strength for a decisive counter. His morningstar whipped through the air in whistling arcs, all his remaining weight behind the swing. It connected with a nauseating crunch, bone splintering under the force of multi-pronged metal.

Grimmjaw reeled backwards with an agonised roar, dropping his axe to clutch his blood-spurting skull. Islwyn snarled and followed through, swinging his spent weapon again and again in a brutal onslaught. Each hit struck like thunder, pulverising Grimmjaw's massive frame. The larger man wavered on his feet, bulk trembling on the verge of collapse.

Then finally, after one last devastating blow, Grimmjaw's knees buckled. He crashed face-first into the pulpy sand, still as death. An unnatural stillness fell over the arena in his abrupt cessation of movement, shock stealing words from thousands of throats at once. Islwyn stood over the prone form, heaving for breath as his morningstar slipped from nerveless fingers.

For a suspended moment, nobody dared make a sound. Then as one, the spectators found their voices once more in an explosion of noise that nearly shook dust from the rafters high above. The roar was deafening - part hysteria, part admiration, colliding into an overwhelming din that lifted Islwyn's fatigue if only for an instant. He tossed his head back and let loose a primal howl of triumph, claiming victory in the only language that truly mattered within these bloodstained walls.

All around, cheers rang out with abandon. Betting sums exchanged hands at breakneck speeds, fortunes made and lost on this singular battle's outcome alone. Colourful celebratory powders rained down in hued torrents, bathing Islwyn and the still form at his feet in bizarre rainbow hues. Hands pounding against the barrier walls sent vibrations through solid stone like thunder without end.

Islwyn drank it all in, fatigue burning away under exultation's glow. This was what he lived for - the thrill, the adrenaline, the savage glory of emerging on top against impossible odds. Nothing compared to standing in triumph over a seemingly unconquerable foe, with thousands chanting your name in awe and fervour. Here, in this arena, he had truly lived.

As the adrenaline began to fade, weariness swept over Islwyn in a crushing wave. His battered muscles trembled with exertion, knees threatening to give out at any moment. Only his iron will held him upright as the deafening cheers of the crowd washed over him.

He took a final moment to bask in the adulation, letting the roar of the spectators rush through his veins like the richest vintage. Victory was as sweet as the finest nectar, reaffirming his place at the pinnacle of the gladiatorial world. But now, the time had come to exit this brutal stage.

With an almighty effort, Islwyn dragged his morningstar from the ground and lifted it high, eliciting another surge of hysterical cheering. Sand peeled away in grimy flakes as he turned to take his leave, the effort staggering on legs that wanted only to buckle. Each step felt like wading through quicksand, and dark spots swam before his vision. Only decades of hard knocks kept him moving forward through sheer force of will alone.

Finally, blessedly, the entrance gates loomed ahead like the gates of paradise itself. Islwyn stumbled through with a last surge, immediately sagging against the stone walls of the passage beyond with a grunt. Shadows embraced him kindly, masking his weaving form from thousands of still-baying spectators. But the roar followed, echoing endlessly down the tunnel long after the massive gates rumbled closed, sealing him in privy silence at last.

In the dim light, Islwyn allowed his façade to crack, slumping fully against the wall. His heaving breaths echoed raggedly off lacquered stone, mingling with the throbbing din inside his skull. Every muscle screamed for respite after the brutal ordeal, wracked with tremors that betrayed his humanity laid bare once more. Blood seeped from various abrasions to stain his tanned skin, glistening wetly in shafts of sunlight.

How long he remained thus, Islwyn couldn't say - time held little meaning squeezed within the passageway's womb-like embrace. But slowly, his harsh pants eased to a less laboured rhythm. Shudders subsided, leaving him limp and drained yet somehow at peace. Victory's afterglow suffused his weary flesh with a comforting warmth, dulling the sharper pains that clamoured for attention.

[tevinterdays]

basil has a rough few years between doom upon all the world and trespasser

[sevibun]

the herald of andraste vs. nosy companions

a quick lil dai piece in between comms 🧙

[morrigan-sims]

OC A-Zs / OC Alphabet

I was tagged by @someone-elsa to show off one of my sims for each letter of the alphabet. (Fancy graphic optional, but I love playing in photoshop too much not to make a little graphic.) I could have made this a lot easier by including other characters that I've made sims of (Yasha and Nocticula, for example) but I decided to be strict about it and stick to my own OCs/sims. Surprising to absolutely no one, it ended up being very heavy on the D&D characters, though a decent number of RTQ/ATQH characters (the ones that I created) made it onto the list.

[a (very long) guide to who's who under the cut!] (and I do mean long. You have been warned.)

A - Avra Shadowbreath [D&D]

(she/her) My shadar-kai/reborn phantom rogue from my ongoing Curse of Strahd campaign. Devout worshipper of the Raven Queen, and a massive hypocrite. Kind of a bitch sometimes. Legally and biologically dead. Also a werewolf now.

B - Byron Lockwood [D&D NPC]

(he/him) Rook's least interesting half-brother. The "forgotten" middle child of Lord Alistair and Lady Evangeline Lockwood. Extremely boring. Only Lockwood brother with a job (and shockingly he's not terrible at it). The worst combo of all your shitty bosses.

C - Carrion Vice [D&D]

(he/him) My second-favorite OC at the moment. Biologically a tiefling but mechanically a beasthide shifter. Path of the Fractured barbarian. Transforms into a fucked-up monster when he rages. In an ongoing Dungeons of Drakkenheim campaign.

D - Daldinia Veneta [D&D, misc]

(she/her) A sim I made for my random D&D CAS challenge and now want to play for real someday. Reborn circle of spores druid. Named after one or two species of fungi.

E - Elira "Ellie" Duskstep [D&D]

(she/her) High elf abjuration wizard who I might never play, but I love none the less. Very autistic. Has a grey cat familiar.

F - Fallon Oakes [RTQ/ATQH]

(she/her) My queen, the first love of my life, the woman who changed my life. Queen of Anvia and the protagonist of my story. Stubborn as hell. Thinks she has to do everything alone.

G - Gwendolyn [misc]

(she/her) The hypothetical child of Amelie (I can't find the pics I know I posted of her??) and Adrian. I don't know much else about her. She was really just a CAS experiment.

H - Havoc [D&D, Video Games]

(they/them) A tiefling swords bard who stared out as a random sim, became a dnd character idea, and then ended up being my first Tav for BG3.

I - Irina [misc]

(she/her) One of two sims I have named Irina, who hilariously were both made for other simblrs. Made for @/wildfairies ages ago. A classy vampire lady.

J - Jay [D&D NPC]

(she/her) Elf. A former member of the crew of the Tide Breaker, and Rook's only friend before meeting the Vanguard (our dnd party). Made a very brief appearance in-campaign to save Rook's life before being tragically eaten by a giant rainbow snake.

K - Kholl [D&D NPC]

(he/him) Elf. Former surgeon of the Tide Breaker. Jay's mentor. Dragged Rook back from the edge of death more times than he should have had to.

L - Laverna Rosefist [D&D]

(she/they) Tiefling thief rogue. The first dnd character I ever made. Originally made for a simblr thing. Has gone through several iterations before reaching her current (and final) form. A (seemingly inevitable) product of my obsession with both tieflings and rogues.

M - Morana Novak [D&D]

(she/her) Fetchling curse patron witch for a Pathfinder game I'll eventually be playing in. Necromancer. Very practical about death. Has a sketchbook full of detailed drawings and observations about corpses she encounters. Nicknamed "mortician" by one of her party members. Her familiar is a raven named Miro. Autistic as hell and has no empathy whatsoever.

N - ?

O - Odynia Adrasteia Erinyes [D&D]

(she/her) Aasimar vengeance paladin (with a dip into hexblade warlock) sworn to Nemesis. Currently playing in a Greek mythology themed campaign. Made a literal "eye-for-an-eye" exchange. Charged with keeping a man alive who kind of doesn't want to be alive.

P - ?

Q - ?

R - Rook [D&D]

(he/him) My favorite OC of all time, my beloved idiot bastard man, the love of my life. Half (wood) elf swashbuckler rogue. Bastard son of a nobleman who ran away and became a pirate. Compulsive liar and Very Good At It. Chaotic motherfucker. Accidentally made the BBEG get very attached to him (and he to the BBEG). My little punching bag. Had daddy issues. All his parental figures end up shitty or dead.

S - Sera [Video Games]

(she/her) My PC for my first playthrough of Pathfinder: Kingmaker. An aasimar traditional monk. Has an AC of 50 and can make up to 8 attacks in one turn. Never takes her halo off.

T - Tessa Smallwood [RTQ/ATQH]

(she/her) The palace healer at the royal palace of Anvia, near Carisfell. The sweetest person you'll ever meet, but will ask you to please take care of yourself. (A hard ask if you're Fallon, apparently.)

U - ?

V - Val (Kyron Valris) [D&D]

(they/them) Tiefling hexblade warlock. Captain of the smuggling ship the Devil's Scorn. Hired by the Vanguard to chase down Captain Wolf in order to rescue Rook after he was kidnapped. (Aka, my temporary character when he was gone.) Former gang member. Criminal with strict morals. Has more common sense than the entire Vanguard put together. Still isn't entirely sure whether or not they regret taking this job.

W - Wymond of Oryn [RTQ/ATQH]

(he/him) Fallon's biological father. Member of a low-level noble house from the neighboring kingdom of Oryn. A lying, traitorous piece of shit who is directly responsible for the death of Fallon's mother. The only thing he and Fallon have in common is their eyes.

X - Xavier Blackthorne [RTQ/ATQH]

(he/him) Fallon's emotional father, even though she would deny this. Her mother's personal guard before her death, now the captain of Fallon's guard. The nicest man you'll ever meet. Has a habit of collecting strays. No biological kids, but the strongest dad energy in all of Anvia.

Y - ?

Z - Zenara "Zen" Raventhorn [D&D]

(they/them) Tiefling fiend warlock. The first dnd character I ever played. An accidental result of my Mighty Nein obsession. Occasionally gets possessed by their patron and wakes up in the middle of a mess with surprise new powers as an "apology".

[tiredpinkpanda]

Animation I did for 2023

[yarn-dragon]

Day 3! The things we do for free shipping (and love)

@flufftober

[whimwolves]

Serap̵͚͇͛ḧ̷̢͚͜i̴̼̜̎̽͠ḿ̷̩͖̿. The leader of the Sunless City's largest church, protector of the holy and celestial.

Despite his reputation for stern denouncement of all things hellish, it seems he's been assisting a party including some infernals lately. The church members wonder what about this group of individuals is causing his resolve to waver...

[crabbyhellfire]

She could at least put some newspaper down

NSFW under the cut

[masterful-mae]

@swordmaster-sybil inspired this post 💀 and I had to bring it to life

art creds to @crabbyhellfire

[dear-odile]

art by @quiddling 🥰 truly my biggest competition for #1 Izzy fan

This week’s episode made me lose my mind. “Do bears have knuckles?” I’ve been quoting that all week hahah.

Anyway Izzy is literally my babygirl, and I decided to really make that clear with this edit. I just think he’s soooo uwu coded

[breadedsinner]

You've heard of Flower Shop/Tattoo Parlor AU now get ready for ... Wooden Dice Maker/Metal Dice Maker AU.

[mecachrome]

not sure whether excerpts from oscar's book have alr been posted here but i found some of the quotes from the author's exclusive interviews with j.sera & rené quite interesting and thought i'd gather them in one place ❓__❓

i always love hearing insights on his karting days and how his unique rc bg & transition from australian to european karting shaped his racecraft... also notable that Every Single person who ever speaks about oscar is just like "well more than anything... he was SMART" 😭 obsessed with baby oscar already learning to dispense his energy in understated / calculative / strategic ways... more below the cut:

another thing i find quite interesting is how because oscar started karting in a relatively smaller scene that wasn't quite as competitive or talent-heavy as in europe, he was always too young/small for the classes he competed in (as with rc racing). of course he was never quite as egregiously undersized as lando but it's kind of fun that they have very similar karting lore in that aspect. not from the book but self-provided visuals:

also love how much the seras talk about his style, from his smooth inputs and clean driving to how much open-wheel potential he exhibited from the very beginning T__T

as for rené's insights on oscar's time at prema, i also find them interesting because while they corroborate a lot of surface level details about his junior campaigns that we're alr familiar with it's cool to be reminded of his growth from f3 (zero front row starts, winning more off consistency and competitor error than any personal dominant performance) to putting it all together in the second half of f2 (consecutive run of poles/fr wins to end the season).

also interesting to hear that THE most angry rené ever saw him was after his f3 monza penalty, because oscar's demeanor & reactions to adversity get discussed a lot and while he's always been very level-headed and i'd argue his core personality has not changed much if at all over the past 5 years, you can still see how he was just that touch less filtered and more defensive during his junior days. oscar is definitely still someone who refuses to take blame if he knows he wasn't at fault and who will never give credit to others when the work was mostly done by him ("i was the one driving" re: mweb helping him) but there has been a fairly noticeable growth curve from the guy who said he felt Physically Weak at the fr finale because of how nervous he was, who said he was grateful to be in school because it distracted him from his "habit of overthinking" that he was trying to get rid of, who complained extensively at monza about the novalak / beckmann incidents and then said "seems to be quite a common theme with liam if i'm honest 😐" re: continued contact in the press conf, to the guy today who reacts to deleted laps with a dry 👍 and stealthily downplays racing incidents to the point of not even calling them "incidents" at all.

there's also a bit from rené about how close he is to chris piastri and how he traveled to melbourne from italy Solely to attend his 50th birthday party, and basically how the piastris are just Good People and that oscar's demeanor is what sets him apart. which i thought was sweet :')

also bonus interesting media quote from laurent rossi, which i've seen before but don't remember in its entirety — specifically the part saying that the other academy drivers "weren't as curious" and basically calling oscar the only smart one of the bunch.... 😭😭😭 this freaking guy

[writteninlunarlight-years]

@literallurker gave me this idea, and I wanted to share my headcanons on what I think everyone's MBTI is and why I believe that.

Charlie -ESFJ (Consul)

I mean, come on, this is so Charlie-coded. She loves helping people and putting a smile on their faces. She gets enjoyment and fulfillment from helping her people and those who lean on her the most. She is extroverted, in touch with her emotions, and in touch with others' emotions as well.

Vaggie -ISTJ (Logistician)

Vaggie respects how things should be run; look at how she reacts to Lucifer's appearance. She, however, is undeniably loyal and follows her heart when it comes to the one she cares about the most. She is quiet and reserved, only stepping up to the plate when it involves backing up Charlie.

Lucifer -ENTP (Debater)

Let's look at Lucifer's past, present, and seeming future. In the past, Lucifer questioned many things and wanted to know why and find out why things were how they were. Lucifer is a good leader when he is not depressed, he also shows pretty normal Extrovert traits he is just awkward cause he dedicated so much of his life to one person not the collective. We saw at the end of the show his true kingly and debater personality show where he agreed to help stick it to the angels and help Charlie.

Alastor - ESTP (Entrepreneur)

This man is a business tycoon, can we all agree? He has thousands of souls. He is a smooth talker and great at making deals. He has to be extroverted for that. On top of that, the only time we see this man dwell on his past is when he talks about his contract at the very end. Besides that, he is rooted in how he can benefit himself right here, right now. He also knows how to manipulate the situations he is in to benefit himself, something the Entrepreneur type is known for.

Angel Dust - INFP (Mediator)

Okay, hear me out, Angel is an actor; the Angel we see 90% of the time is not the real true him. When we see him in his raw form, he is really quiet and calm. He spoke of dreams and ideas he once had. Angel is forced to look extroverted when, in reality, he is the happiest in a small group of close people. He is happy making his friends happy. He loves helping even if he covers it up with his 'need' for sex and drugs.

Husk - INFJ (Advocate)

Okay, controversial, I know, but let me cook. Husk in the show fits this so well. He is compassionate towards Angel and the others, he is wanting to rebel against the contract system, he doesn't care about being powerful anymore now that he has lost all power. He is just a boy who loves his spider and friends. He has no issues helping Charlie the minute he finds out he was summoned for her, not Al.

Sir Pentious -INTP (Logician)

Man is socially awkward and inventing stuff left, right, and sideways. He is always curious to build the next best thing to make him the next powerful being. He never falters from his passion, either. He is passionate about the tasks he is given, which explains his displeasure in failing the Vees. Yet when Charlie gives him a new task, and he can excel at that, he is as happy as ever.

Niffty - ISTP (Virtuoso)

We have literally seen Niffty create the most horrid and cutest things out of her bugs. She is very attached to those she is close to, and she always has something going on in her mind. I think Niffty is a prime example of if it is in my head, I will be doing it, no questions asked.

Cherri Bomb - ENFP (Campaigner)

Cherri is the definition of a free spirit and a kind heart. She loves Angel deeply and would do anything to help cheer up her best friend. On top of that, she also has a no fucks filter and kicks ass to protect those she cares about. She is open and honest about her life style and her energy. Ready to take on the world one day at a time the best way she can.

Sera - INTJ (Architect)

Sera follows the rules and becomes the best she can be. She was given the directive of being the head angel and ran with it. She will do anything to keep her power and knowledge of the world. She is very smart and analytical when it comes to situations. Though she is in a powerful position, she is naturally introverted, often letting Emily take on more people-centric roles while she stands back and takes on more law and order roles.

Emily - ENTJ (Commander)

All right, this is more of what I just hope Emily becomes. In the span of minutes, we watched Emily completely turn her back on fellow Angels, all because she had learned what was really happening in hell. She would fight for the right cause and rally the troops for it. She is an energetic and open character who fights for what she believes is right. Seeing Pentious get redeemed, you bet she will be fighting for Charlie's plans.

Lute - ISFJ (Defender)

Okay, another may be controversial, but let me cook, please. Lute is super caring and concerned for her people, whether that is Adam, the exorcists, or angels as a whole. Yes, she looks like a big bad villain in the show because, well, she is. However, step into Lutes' shoes, and she is just trying to protect the peace of her people and family.

Adam - ENFJ (Protagonist)

He is another person who hear me out please needs to be looked at from his perspective. Adam is, by all means, the main protagonist in the Bible and in the world of heaven. He does what he believes is right and fights for what he believes is right. Even if he is an asshole, look at him from a different perspective than just through the eyes of Charlie, our narrator, through Hazbin Hotel. Adam believes his greatest purpose in life is to be the first man everyone has to look up to.

Vox -ESFP (Entertainer)

I mean, this is like writing itself; Vox is charismatic, has silver tongues, and is good with people. He can use his voice and charisma to woo people, and only then, if that fails, does he use his hypnotic powers. Vox enjoys entertaining by playing many roles in all his shows and assisting Vel and Val in any issue that seems to come up.

Valentino - ESTJ (Executive)

Hear me out, let me cook; we learn in should have stayed gone that Vox is pretty much powerless without the other Vee. It is also alluded to a few times that Val has been there the longest out of all the Vees. To be in the position of power Val is in, he needs to be an extrovert and have a way with words to lure people in. You may be thinking, but how does this tie into the executive role. I ask you to take a step back, like with the angels, and look at Val from the perspective of the Vees, not from Charlie and the narrators. He is set in his ways, expects perfection from his soul, and utilizes his power position as a form of mentorship for Vox and Vel so they can gain more notoriety.

Velvette - ISFP (Adventurer)

But she is a famous designer and sinstagram star. Yeah, and do you know how many influencers and social media people are actually introverts but come off as extroverted cause they are talking to a camera, not people directly. She is also suuuuper creative, and many fashion designers, just like other artists, have a hard time relating to people face to face and prefer to talk through their art mediums. I mean, look at how Velvette handled Val's tantrum. She called Vox cause she didn't know how to handle that situation.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

I would give all my critiques (this is a lie) back if at the end of Veilguard we had found out in an extra extra post-Marvel credits scene that it's just been Sandal playing with figurines on the Skyhold war table's map of Thedas all Civil War Buff Dad style.

I wasn't going to do this because everyone deserves to rationalize Veilguard however works best for them, but in the wake of that hilariously dismal end-of-times IGN interview and AMA, I thought I'd share how my best friend and I decided to view Veilguard. Everything below is taken from probably a fifteen minute text conversation we had working through our disappointment together, but by the end we both felt way better about the game.

Picture this. You reach the climax of the game, Solas has freed himself from the fade and is getting ready to cast a really powerful spell and suddenly, out of nowhere, he just gets squished flat and then it immediately cuts to Bodahn in a little fire-lit room saying "Oh Sandal, you crushed another one of the pieces?"

Varric is sitting there alive, well, and BLONDE, and has been playing the whole game with Sandal and says "the kid's got a great imagination." They're all in the home of the Inquisitor.

So how do we get here, you might ask?

*drumroll*

Actually wait no I fear this is going to be long so I'll put a divider thingy in.

So hear me out.

We'll go a year or so after Trespasser. The inquisitor is going through it. Skyhold is still theirs to command because sure everyone and their mother's mother was mad at the Inquisition for taking care of business, but what are you going to do, take their home away? Not if any of the Inquisitor's fiercely loyal friends have anything to say about it (I'm sure Josephine had something worked out to get a title locked down after there being so much uncertainty at Haven, anyway).

So it's become a home base once more, regardless of how intact the inquisition is or isn't under Divine Victoria. Agents are always going in and out, the murals in the rotunda serve as an ever-present reminder of the mission at hand, and Varric visits regularly from Kirkwall to touch base. On one such visit, Bodahn and Sandal accompany him, because they heard there might be a need for enchantments (BOOM).

One night everyone ends up around the map because it's been a rougher week than usual and a game of wicked grace at the tavern just isn't enough, they've gotta treat this like an overdue group project and pull an all-nighter to get SOMEWHERE on tracking down Solas.

Enter Sandal. He's bored, no one is asking him to enchant anything, and Dagna isn't around for them to talk shop (engage in probably illegal/definitely unsafe experiments). And there, amidst the pile of clutter the team has been using when they need to add a new piece to the war table, is a Rook chess piece.

He's seen one before, of course. Varric used to try and teach it to him back in Kirkwall, and Sandal was good in the way that new chess players who go full chaos mode are stellar at driving experienced chess players crazy. His win streak is no joke. So he grabs it, tries to lighten the mood around the war table because no one in a bad mood is going to be requesting enchantments any time soon, and suddenly the tension that's been building up for months starts to ease just a little.

Eventually, everyone gets involved. Much like any great D&D campaign, they fit time in for the adventures of Rook & co in between skrimishes, secret missions, and stressful planning sessions, but that just enables more people to have input.

The Chargers keep making suggestions of all the missions Rook should go on when they pass through, but these all end up becoming Neve's cases.

Bellara was made up by Cassandra who stopped by for a visit from rebuilding the Seekers/wearing her big hat and she was too busy to give anything substantial, but she went with what she knows: a character who loves romance and has a dead brother.

Sera doesn't have the attention span to get too in-depth with it, but she does doodle all over the map of Thedas and add some much needed commentary as the Rook piece moves across it. She also INSISTS that the villains of the story be old and elfy, because they don't get enough representation as villains.

Lucanis loving coffee/it being 75% of his lines comes exclusively from the fact that on the nights they get too invested to stop it's the only thing that keeps them going and he became the character that embodies that particular struggle.

There are so many enchantments Rook can take advantage of because Sandal keeps thinking of new ones he can test with Dagna when she's next around.

Speaking of Sandal again, he tried to kill Varric off in the beginning because he was putting on his author hat and over-narrating. Varric was of course like "wait no why did you kill me I wanted to be part of this" so he keeps interjecting as himself and everyone else is like "shhh you're dead." They only indulge him when they conclude what feels like a major plot point and need someone with an understanding of narrative and pacing to tie all the threads together or give them an idea of where to go next.

The Inquisitor struggles to get into it sometimes because they feel like the weight of the world is on their shoulders yet again. Occasionally, they'll sighs heavily and insert their game piece onto the board (Blackwall carved it, so it's as close s a completely different style can be to their true likeness) to be like "so anyways, THESE are the problems happening in Southern Thedas, in case anyone forgot" only for their message crystal to light up and Dorian's voice to filter through.

"I hear you're working on an astounding number of hypotheticals. Do you think it would be feasible to form an undercover group that works to liberate slaves?"

And then suddenly they spend the rest of the night working through how effective such an organization might be (through Rook's eyes, of course), but because Dorian isn't there to stop them they give him an insane new hairstyle and mention it every time they're giving a description of the Shadow Dragon leader. He is horrified.

Harding gets to be a self-insert because everyone unilaterally agrees that a fictional scout wouldn't hold a candle to her skill level. All the not fleshed out dwarven plot points come from their scrambled theorizing, but it does inspire her to look deeper into the mysterious Kal-Sharok during her real travels.

The reason Morrigan acts so out of character is because they're all like "we have no fucking idea what she gets up to when she isn't saving the world, but we know she'd be there in some capacity."

Leliana is busy busy busy but when she hears about what they're doing and that Morrigan is involved, she finds the time to send a letter saying "let's give her different hair :)"

When Morrigan finds out she brings Kieran for a visit (he missed all of his friends at Skyhold anyway) and is like "seems a most inconvenient waste of time..." and then finds out Leliana is the reason her game piece looks crazy and is like...make a character who is nosy and up in everyone's business all the time but still super reserved and afraid to trust others. (Boom, hi Neve).

Kieran gets really into the story and is critical to designing Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain. "She has sooOOoO many arms!" he explains, miming it out over the sound of a muffled voice crystal shaking as Dorian yells "you could've killed me! You could have made me evil! But you made me UGLY?!"

Even the Inquisitor, exhausted as they are, still finds the time to check in and ask if brown-haired Varric is still dead. The answer is always yes.

They all have a good laugh about the idea of Treviso and Minrathous being full of zip lines, but how else are they going to get to the parts they actually care about?

Minrathous gets destroyed instead of Treviso because while they're deciding the stakes for Rook to be faced with, Fenris stops by to check in with Varric because he heard they might need to go to Tevinter. He takes one look at the board and goes "hanging bodies. Everywhere."

"Fenris, that means the venatori will take over."

"...this game is stupid anyway."

Iron Bull definitely said "this story needs a DRAGON HUNTER" so boom. Enter Taash. A Dorian that romanced him sighs heavily and decides to play along if only to get to spend more time with his amatus another way. He models a character after one of his favorite professors from when he was a child.

Solas looks so yassified because the Inquisitor's love interest (or Sera, if they're pining after the Dread Wolf himself) came by and threw his actual war table piece into the fire during a particularly rough evening after his agents thwarted them yet again. To replace him, they let Kieran draw on a spoon and add a new cursed detail every time he pulls some bullshit to try and cheer each other up.

Fenris goes back to Kirkwall and complains about the stupid game Varric is running instead of spending all of his time on saving the world. Merrill overhears and is like "oh! They're incorporating eluvians? That's nice!" until she hears about how many there are and her eye starts twitching.

Harding only dies because everyone over-celebrates when Rook finally gets a win over on the stuffed squid animal being used to represent Ghilan'ain and her game piece topples over. Varric insisted that it be canon because he's tired of being the only dead one.

Blackwall gets Sera to be a little more invested by promising they can make a character together, maybe an elven Grey Warden! She washes her hands of anything too dalish, even though Blackwall makes it clear that there's more to him than that, but insists he should have a loyal griffon friend in honor of his rocking toys.

It's one of the Inquisitor's fondest memories as they prepare to actually find Solas for real, and one of the only unifying threads keeping everyone sane.