Level 28 person-thing. Multi-media artist and library worker. Here to vibe and delve back into fandom things. Main fandoms:BG3 (esp. Rolan)Mass Effect (again)Stardew Valley (always)Magnus Archives/ProtocolOld Gods of Appalachia
Rolan, sweet baby. Just imagine him realizing he's an idiot, someone is absolutely in love with him.
He's sitting alone in his study, scribbling notes and filling out papers when he finds a new set of nibs for his quill off the side. A wonderfully thoughtful gift that he could always use. He smiles as he turns over the little package, it's one of many.
It's only right then sitting alone by his candle that he thinks about that smile. That he thinks about the way they always ask if he's eaten and bring him tea.
For a few seconds, rolan just stares down at his charts, unable to focus.
Al the times they've cheered for his success and listened to him ramble through problems and just knew he would get it sorted.
Before he can think of anything there's a soft knock at his door
He’s gotta have a farm with his partner (maybe his partner is a farmer). But at least a small hobby farm.
Can you imagine the students going up to their pe teacher and asking
"Mr z when did you get an Insta?"
Zevlor is yet again lost, checking his little list for some new slang.
"That's um...for sharing pictures?" I never made an account."
"Well damn someone must be obsessed cause look"
They hand over the phone that was supposed to be in their locker showing an Instagram account filed with pictures of him. He just laughed when he saw a picture of himself at a farmers market holding a sheep he knew exactly who took that picture.
"Mr z are you okay? Do you have e a stalker?"
"I suppose, we live together. My spouse took those. I didn't know those were being posted anywhere."
I had the wonderful opportunity to do a commission for the amazingly talented @dutifullylazybread of her Tav and Rolan ❤️❤️ (if anyone hasn’t read ‘Deeply and Immovably So’ stop what you’re doing and go read it now!!!!) of Tav comforting Rolan during a panic attack. It was such an emotional scene, thank you so much for trusting me with it! 😭
Close up under the cut 👇
Likes and reblogs are encouraged but please don’t repost ❤️ Commissions are open check my pinned post for info ❤️
Rolan at the tower in the middle of an argument with cal and Lia about labeling or something. When he randomly gets a note from a courier and shuts up.
Both cal and Lia read over his shoulders to a little confession letter, signed from an admirer.
"Do you see why labels are important? How am I supposed to say anything back???"
will always treat wyll like the babygirl he is, like i love dressing him up and drawing him in different hairstyles!!!! always giving wyll the barbie treatment!!!
My week is off to a shitty start but at least I can doodle a bit.
Also blurb under the cut.
Based off that one nsfw confession.
Sorcerous Sundries was a place of renown, known to all magic folk, regardless of prestige or origin, for its excellence in all matters arcane; it commanded an air of respect, elevation, class, and dignity. So the same was expected of the Master of Ramazith’s Tower; the chosen wizard was to be respectable, academic, dignified in his conduct, a true paragon and visage to the magic community.
Thus, it would do no good to be caught in the restricted section— of his very own library!— babbling incoherent names to deities he didn’t believe in (for which he received a swift, delicious correction for each utterance— rough hands digging into his thighs and ass, thick cock thrusting further into him, feeling so full, so lovely— “My name, love; say it. I want the gods to know who you pray to.”) wantonly begging to be fucked harder, deeper, and hells-damn it, faster, no care at all to the potential danger from fucking against the rare tombs that threatened to combust if his voice trembled an octave too high. Granted, if he was caught fucking anyone, the Champion of Baldur’s Gate— not to mention his betrothed— was hardly much of a scandal; still, though, Rolan had to keep some semblance of decorum.