#then came Dorian

[invinciblerodent]

For the record, I just saw a post about someone complaining how people will hate Lae'zel but love Gale, and I feel like I should say it preemptively- I don't hate Lae'zel, or any other character for that matter. They're all great. Gale just happens to be just embarrassingly my type of character.

It's my curse, in a world full of interesting and novel character concepts I'm doomed to fall for the emotionally tortured, smart-mouthed mage with facial hair over and over again.

[oddthesungod]

happy pride month to these two in specific <333

[cringefaecompilation]

"orym's vision is going to be him getting romantically rejected by dorian" no i think orym is going to see himself gutting imogen like a fish with no remorse. like there's mild anxiety (a hot guy not liking you) and then there's deepest darkest fears (harming your loved ones and failing your own morals).

[ibrithir-was-here]

Sooo I wrote a…weird little thing, a certain comic by @mayhemchicken-artblog got my creative juices percolating and under the press of staying up far too late for several days this came to fruition, enjoy!

The Eye of the Beholder

Link to the Comic

[revvethasmythh]

Matt bringing up the idea of Dorian having received the backlogged messages from Orym is insane to me because like. what an array of messages to receive all in a row. Like, let's game it out:

1. "Dorian? Can you hear me? What's the sky look like where you are? Tell me you're okay." All the retroactive fear and horror and sitting with the inability to respond. Awful. Can't feel great. Implication that wherever Orym was, there was a serious threat to both his life and people writ large considering he's asking Dorian if he's okay.

2, "Dorian. Still alive. By the skin of our teeth. Want to talk more. You know where Dariax is?" Easily the least concerning message, and yet it ALSO implies a near-death experience. Crazy pivot there. "yeah we nearly died, but, hey, do you know where Dariax is at?" Absolutely no info on why Orym would be asking after Dariax of all people.

3. "Dorian. We're alive. Been to the moon. Going back. Find the Tempest. If I don't get the chance again........I've really missed you." The repetition of "we're alive"? Not a good sign! "If I don't get a chance again"? Really not a good sign! He's been to the MOON? Re: Dorian's conversation with Keyleth, we know he thought this was a code word for something and not literally the moon in the fucking sky, but regardless, there is mounting desperation happening here, and the Damocles' sword of friends dying suddenly seems a lot like it's about to drop.

If I got those three messages all in a row when sending came back online, I too would have started booking my ass toward Keyleth immediately, because clearly something awful and massive is going on out there involving my friends.

[screechingfromthevoid]

I think the same reason I love Dorym is why I love Loquatious and Laerryn. One, the devotion of it all. But secondly, and more importantly, "But there's one story of a fairy who stumbled into this world and fell in love"

Because Dorian is an air genasi prince who left home to find something real. His home floats on wind and he's never wanted for a thing. And he came down from his clouds only to find himself stumbling, tumbling, into love with just a man.

There is something so earnest about a man who is considered magical and wondrous in a world that already has magic, falling in love with someone who just is.

It's a thought that scratches the back of my mind a lot. It goes hand in hand with Liam saying "he has no idea if Dorian returns his feelings". Because from Orym's point of view why would Dorian have feelings for him? Dorian. The beautiful blue prince who is extremely talented in both music and magic. Dorian is everything Orym admires in other people. Everything he doesn't see in himself.

But Dorian does have feelings for Orym. Because Orym is everything he's not. He's firm and reliable. He knows who he is and is unapologetic about it. Orym was the only one in the (original) Crown Keepers that wasn't tempted by the spider queen. Because he was too principled. He was too good. Dorian's alignment changed. Dorian felt himself getting worse. Yet Orym stayed steadfast. In the face of everything he did not change.

Their pursuits were the same. They wanted to protect their friends. At any cost. But Orym somehow stayed unchanged. He always knew the right way of doing things.

So the handsome prince fell in love with a guard and planned to stay with him until he no longer wanted the company.

I literally said to a friend "I know he leaves. But he is so devoted to Orym I don't know how they're going to get him to."

And it was the one thing neither could argue against. Family. Orym knew about family. He knew about duty.

But even a continent away Dorian couldn't stop thinking about Orym. His little tactician before he was the savior blade. Even when his world came crashing down, Orym called and he went.

Idk. I think there's something beautiful in the way that Dorian loves Orym. I think it is very reminiscent of the fey who stumbled into this world and fell in love. I think it will be a love that will always be with them. That they will have to recover from. A love they might have to mourn before they ever have it.

Even if they never... If there is no love confession, if they have to mourn the loss of the people they thought they were, if there's no way for them to be together; Dorian will always love Orym. In the same way Orym loves Will. First love often lingers.

[adoribullpavus]

astarion lovers were born to be dorian pavus stans, i said what i said

[thou-babbling-brook]

Finished AC Unity. RIP Arno Dorian you would’ve loved Alcoholics Anonymous (AA)

[thegainingdesk]

The Grommr Profile of Dorian Grey

Dorian finished the last chicken wing, delicately wiping his hands with a napkin, before dabbing at the sides of his mouth. “And one hundred!” He beamed at the camera, and rubbed his middle, not-so-subtly lifting his t-shirt to reveal taut, flat six-pack abs. “Guess that will sort me until dinner,” he said with a wink to his audience.

He looked at the comments on his livestream. Most were in awe, as usual, at how much he could eat while maintaining his stick-thin figure and classically handsome good looks. Others, frustratingly, accused him of being a fake - of using some contraption or camera trickery to make the food disappear, of editing in CGI food, of bullimia. He'd done live shows, week-long streams, streams in nothing but his boxers, but nothing would ever convince some of his viewers.

One in particular caught his attention: lol, why are you all commenting like he'll respond? everyone knows he films these over like a week and then edits it together after

Dorian gritted his teeth. “Actually, user WelcomeToMyFistedMind, comment at fifteen thirty-two and eighteen seconds, this is very much live. And actually, I don't think I am done quite yet.” He stood and walked to the kitchen, coming back with a box of two dozen donuts he'd bought for tomorrow's stream. He sat back down and pushed the first one into his mouth, grinning around the custard that oozed out.

Forty-five minutes and twenty-four donuts later, Dorian flashed one last smug grin at the camera and closed twitch. He leant back, lifted up his t-shirt and ran his fingers lazily up and down his treasure-trail, following the center line between his abdominals. Despite the literal pounds of food he'd eaten in the last couple of hours, his stomach was as flat as ever, his twinkish frame showing none of the effects of the food he ate day in, day out.

His channel, MukbangBangYoureDead, had exploded in viewers ever since he started it a few years ago, until he was now one of the most famous mukbangers on the internet. He could not only eat more than all of his competitors, he made it look easy, and all without gaining a pound.

Of course, he had something that they didn't - the deal. He'd been hesitant at first, didn't believe the strange visitor that had come to him one night could or would deliver on its promises. But here he was, years later, making tens of thousands of pounds a month, all without consequence.

Thinking about the deal, he opened Grommr on his phone and brought up his profile. He whistled as he saw the updated weight - 576 pounds. He'd been flirting with 570 for a while now, and was pleased to see how far he'd stepped over that threshold. Time, he thought, for an update for his loyal fans on that platform too.

He pulled his trousers off and threw them to the side, leaving his t-shirt on. He walked to the mirror and admired his toned, pencil-like legs, his lightly muscled arms, the way his t-shirt draped from broad shoulders and tight pecs over his narrow waist, and his large bulge constrained by a designer jock-strap in bright yellow. He raised his phone up and took a picture, and proceeded to take his shirt off. He raised one hand to a lightly-haired pec and gave it a squeeze as he took a second picture. Finally, he lay down on his bed, snaked some long-slender fingers into his waistband, and raised his phone to take another photo from above.

He uploaded the pictures to Grommr without even looking at them - he knew there'd be no point, that they'd look completely different in just a moment or two. They appeared one by one as they uploaded.

Each showed a behemoth of a man. In the first the man stood in a mirror, wearing a t-shirt that cut into fat hanging from his sides and strained to cover large, pendulous breasts. His gut hung out and down, covering his genitals - a small pop of yellow beneath his love handles was the only hint that he was wearing any underwear. The man's face was huge and round, his features almost amorphous. Small, piggy eyes sat above bulbous cheeks, which merged into a ring of fat around his head, his chin a mere dimple in the fat around his neck. Even in the still image, it was clear that the man's arm was straining against its own weight to hold the phone up.

The next photo was much the same. The same morbidly obese figure stood in the same mirror. This time, the pitifully small t-shirt had been discarded to reveal cascading flesh hanging to the side, lying on the mountainous belly. One hand grasped one of the tits, bloated fingers digging into the soft flesh.

In the next, the figure was laid prone. Gravity had pulled down on the soft flesh and caused it to drop down and pool around the figure. The moobs lifted up towards the man's non-existant neck and chin, his gut spread out, his face expanded in all directions. New rolls and folds had formed - where arm met shoulder, where joints bent, or where his gut bunched up against itself. In the brighter lighting, painfully red stretch marks bloomed across the man's skin, circling his thighs, his love handles like loaves, across his dropping breasts. The man's left hand struggled to reach around his gut to grasp at the waistband of a straining jock strap, within which a small bump suggested some long-forgotten nub of a cock, sunk deep within the fat that spilled out around the underwear’s pouch. The man’s face was red, and seemed to strain as he struggled to maneuver his own flesh.

Dorian watched on in boredom as the first few comments rolled in. The usual adoring fans, begging to know the secrets to his titanic weight, proclaiming they’d soon look the same, asking to meet up. He would wait until a few of his regulars sent their customary tips, then go on with the rest of his day. In the meantime, a couple of the comments caused a smile to spread across his angular face.

MayContainDonuts: MealWithTheDevil looking great as ever! I don't know what it is, but he always looks so much like that one mukbang guy? Obviously fatter, but just the eyes and nose and stuff? I wonder if they're related?

BloatGoat: Do you mean MukbangBangYoureDead? If you can find some of his old photos the resemblance is uncanny. People used to think they were the same person but obviously not. Definitely could be related!

Dorian smirked and went to close the app, stopping only to check a small notification that popped up at the top of his screen. There would be routine server maintenance the next day, and the site would be down for around eight hours, starting mid-morning for the UK.

Dorian sighed. He hated server shutdowns, and this would be the longest he'd experienced yet. Still, he had a while to prepare. He'd have to cancel some lunch plans, but he could make up some lie about being ill. He got dressed, stood up and left to go buy enough food for tomorrow.

Dorian paced around his flat nervously the next morning. He checked his watch - 10:01. He quickly tried to bring up Grommr - sure enough, he was met with an error message about the server being down. It would start soon enough.

The first sign of it was his t-shirt. Previously loose, after about five minutes he found he was having to fuss with it to get it to sit right. another five minutes and it had begun riding up around puffy lovehandles and a firm paunch, while his sweatpants were starting to slip down an expanding rear. Another ten minutes and he took the t-shirt off, freeing a large beer gut that bounced when he walked. His sweatpants had grown almost skin tight around hefty thighs and would soon be too tight for comfort. He knew that this was only the start.

The hunger started then; sickly, stabbing pains in his newly expanded gut. He put two pizzas in the oven and sat with a donuts while he waited, knowing that soon his body, and his appetite along with it, would soon be able to accommodate all the food.

Just under thirty minutes in, Dorian's gut started to rest on his lap when he sat. He leant back, the swollen sack of fat at his middle dragging along his lap as he did so, and his cock began to harden. He reached a hand up to scratch the pink stretch marks beginning to form below his budding moobs.

While stuffed to the point of breathlessness just five minutes before, his stomach was still expanding, and he could feel the gnawing hunger begin to creep back in. He belched and stood, tottering slightly at the near-total shift in center of gravity since he’d sat down. He peeled off his sweatpants, struggling past his wide arse and flabby thighs, then gathered as much food as he could in his arms, using the top of his gut as a shelf and cautiously made his way back to his sofa, where he collapsed down, put on a trashy movie, and continued to eat.

Dorian continued to grow as his pile of junk food diminished. He savoured the feeling of soft, supple skin sliding past skin as he swelled - his growing tits pouring out onto his behemoth gut, his underbelly coursing forwards across rotund thighs dimpled with cellulite, his fat pad oozing around his perpetually hard dick. He knew to wait though; the bigger he was, the hotter his eventual orgasm would be.

Dorian looked down and surveyed himself. His body was beginning to be defined by rolls upons rolls. He estimated himself to be around the size he reached last time there was some server downtime; his profile had put on at least a hundred pounds since then. He lifted a heavy arm and used a hand to probe his plush flesh, sighing at the way his newly chubby fingers sank into the fat.

Still, the hunger increased. Dorian tried to lean forward to grab his phone, but found his own sheer bulk resisted him, pushing him back. He spread his legs and allowed his gut to fall down between them, the shift pulling his body forward in his seat and causing a dull ache in his lower back. He picked up his phone and with clumsy sausage-like fingers brought up a delivery app. He allowed instinct and hunger to take over - spring rolls, beef, chilli beef, sweet and sour chicken, duck pancakes, chilli chips, everything he saw he was ravenous for. He'd not been this big before and the hunger was deep. He pressed order, only briefly worrying about how he'd answer the door when he had no clothes that could hope to fit him.

Dorian’s body continued to expand. There was an alienness to his new size; his thighs had to splay around his hanging gut, his arms sat uncomfortably on top of thick pillows of fat at his sides, each joint filled with lard, and most of all was the awareness of gravity, how it pulled at his body and how his body answered in kind by dropping down and down.

Half an hour of nagging hunger later, his doorbell rang. He threw himself forward, but fell back to the sofa. Even that unsuccessful effort left him winded. He rolled to the side, fat cascading over fat as he did so, and staggered to stand sideways, his arms shaking as he heaved with all his might against the sofa. He grabbed a blanket and draped it over him; it barely covered his torso, but it was the best he could do.

How had he never realised how easy walking was before? Now, every step needed to be purposeful and required a conscious effort to propel his weight forwards. He had to wheel each thigh out and around past the other, each one a lead weight to be lifted. Dorian reached the door panting and sweaty, his hips burning with the beginnings of pain. The delivery driver looked on in shock, and then in slow horror. Dorian didn't care, he just grabbed his bags and slammed the door, before making his slow way back to his seat.

As he fell back, the sofa made a loud crunching sound and he felt himself sink deep into the cushions. He shuffled over the other side as best he could, each movement sending shockwaves across his body. He piled his bags into the crater left on the other side of the sofa and ate directly out of them, the table now wholly unreachable.

Dorian suspected he stopped growing around the time that he'd finished his food. If nothing else, the hunger had stopped. His torso had become a series of rolls, each one wrapped around his entire body and piled on top of the next. His limbs had become huge sacks of flesh, spreading out beneath him, the only evidence of his joints small, soft dimples in the thick casing of his body.

Dorian knew he'd waited long enough now. He pushed a stubby paw into the deep fold underneath his gut, reaching for the hard nub of his cock not yet swallowed by his fat pad. It was no use however, the heavy weight of his belly pressing down and closing off his own groin from himself. He leant to the side and spread his thighs, freeing up access and shifting his weight off from his lap, but still his fingers had to squirm past sweaty flesh into the small crevice left of his crotch. He grasped at the hard head of his cock, finding it in a shallow depression of flab nestled in dense pubes. With two fingers he did his best to jerk himself off, but to no avail - there was simply not enough cock left and not enough space to handle it in. Desperate for release he began to thrust, rocking his pelvis back and forth, so that the thick shaft of his penis slid within his own blubber, fucking his own body. He closed his eyes and ignored the tortured groans of the sofa below him as his pleasure grew. It only took a few minutes for him to cum, semen coating his fat pad and thighs as he yelled out.

Dorian slumped back, gasping for air, and exhausted, drifted off into a sleep.

When he woke up, it was dark. He could still feel the weight of his body pulling down. This wasn't right. As slow as it took for the weight to pile on, usually it melted away in seconds once the servers were back online, which should have happened hours ago. He checked the time - 23:24. Had something gone wrong?

He checked Grommr - the site was back up. He tried to log in - nothing. App - no. Browser - no. He tried to type his password in again, fat fingers mashing against the keyboard so that he had to try again slowly, deliberately. Nothing worked. He felt his heart pounding somewhere beneath his bosom.

Finally, he noticed an email in his inbox.

Grommr admin team - lost profile

During our recent scheduled server update, a small number of user profiles were unfortunately lost. We are sorry to tell you that your profile was one of those that we have not been able to recover. We are doing everything we can to recover lost profiles, but we are sadly not…

Dorian stopped reading. He looked down at the acres of flesh that were now his body. He lifted an arm up and let it fall, watching it shake and wobble in the dim light. What would he tell his family? His friends? His fans? This couldn't be happening.

Through his panicked breathing and heavy heartbeat, another feeling began to grow - Dorian Grey was beginning to feel hungry.

[vicciouxs]

DORIAN VASILE answering to @thebramblewood vampire calling 🦇

Mr. Vasile is undoubtedly the classic vampire stereotype, born as such, without having been transformed, so the purest blood runs in his veins. Many will think that he spends his eternity filled with luxuries, but the reality is that he lives removed from most of society, even his peers, and only goes out when his hunger is stronger than his resistance. He lives retired in a small house that anyone could mistake for a ruin, devoured by vegetation and covered with creaking wood. However, his exile, strange as it may seem, is voluntary. Before the tragedy he used to be an acclaimed figure among vampire society, he had large networks of contacts since his knowledge is immense, Dorian took advantage of his eternity to hone his skills in any field. But his big mistake was love. He fell in love with a human, a human who was scared of his true form and ran away without knowing that he would be caught by Dorian's enemies, jealous of his knowledge. At that moment Dorian lost his great and only love and, although he has more than enough power to regenerate himself, he keeps the scar on his face as a memory of that moment.

[ittybittyremy]

"Yeah it was all my money. He wanted it so bad. I saw it in his little eyes. He wanted it!"

I know it was Robbie saying that but I love the idea of that being Dorian's thoughts. Trying to justify to himself why he's about to give away all his money.

There's no logic, no pros and cons list, it's just "His pretty little eyes are filled with so much desire, I can't NOT give all my money to him right now. Think of how happy he will be!"

Also, after Dorian said "I know, I saw it in your eyes," he paused for second with a smile on his face and then cleared his throat and then got to the point. Y'all cannot tell me he did not get distracted by Orym's eyes right then and there.

[undead-knick-knack]

[oddthesungod]

some older married Dorym, happily retired from adventuring and living in Zephrah! I have this headcanon that instead of exhanging rings when they are wed, ppl in Zephrah exchange custom embroidered sashes they wear! I've always been curious about the one Orym wears and here he has his original (for Will) and one for Dorian loosely tied together <3

[pergaminaa]

Okay hear me out here:

Dorian is totally a girl dad, and no force in this universe is going to make me think otherwise.

Also, he is the King of Adarlan, and Manon is the Queen of the Witches and they literally have their own kingdom to rule SO they need two heirs, one to rule each kingdom when the time comes.

This is the reason why I headcanon they have two daughters (they’re like 6-7 years apart at least because Manon is not going to do this so soon lmao) because:

A) Hey this is actually not so bad (Manon had a lot of doubts in herself and took A WHILE to get there but she does. Eventually.)

B) With their daughter getting older and more independent they just missed having her around like why did you grow up so fast??? (Dorian is more vocal, but while silent Manon felt the same way)

C) They have two kingdoms so they need two kids, naturally.

[grayintogreen]

Killing Cyrus really was Aabria realizing she wasn’t gonna get a TPK and going WELL FINE YOUR HAMSTER IS FUCKED THOUGH.

[biorust-art]

Oh, real love is sunlight.

--

Was practicing and I actually like how the colors turned out :0 Dorym beloved,,, Orym really needs to be held like this... >;}

Also I think about Dorian asking Orym to call him by his real name,, the intimacy and trust required for that... swoon.

[Image ID: Digital drawing of Orym and Dorian Storm from Critical Role. They are having sex with Orym beneath Dorian and their bodies pressed together, Dorian rests his forehead on Orym's and they breath each other in deeply as the sunlight shines through the windows and lights up their bodies. Dorian's hair is tossed over his shoulder and falls in front of him, and his earrings sparkle in the morning light. Orym has his legs lifted at Dorian's waist and he holds Dorian's nipples in his fingers. The upper left corner has dialogue: 'Orym, say my name.' 'Uhng... Bronte <3 ' The other pictures includes one without words and a close up on their faces. End ID]