With the party change I'm looking up everyone on the CR wiki again to refresh me and you know

I forgot that Dorian has SEVENTEEN (17) strength

that's one (1) point lower than Chet and Ashton

Gave into my hyperfixation and drew pretty boy Dorian Storm/Brontë Secondsun Wyvernwind. I miss him more and more with each passing day.

Original is Salome by Alfons/Alphonse Maria Mucha

Bell's Hells

Dorian Storm/Brontë Wyvernwind & Sefarina

Hey uhhh where’s Dorian’s Bells Hells playlist?? He is part of the party. Please give me his playlist.

Ok so what if when Dorian and Cyrus leave Ankle biter is crying and saying something like “don’t leave please. When people leave me they never come back”

Oooh ouch!!!!

I can already see Dorian failing to keep composure with tears brimming, tight hugs, and voice cracking at AB gripping his leg and begging them not to leave

Cyrus takes a knee to be on their level and grips onto their shoulders tightly: “We will reunite again, little one, because we are family. This token that I give you bears my family crest, and with it you’ll be able to find me. We will not be gone long, but please be well. Listen to them. And be good.”

AB tediously accepts the token and sadly watches them depart

Only until they’re out of sight and earshot does Cyrus let his walls break

Brontë Secondsun Wyvernwind.

"The Wyvern." 🌬🩵

BETTER KNOWN AS DORIAN STORM 🌩🌩

brontë dorian storm secondsun wyvernwind of the silken squall

🎶  we could’ve had it all 🎶 AKA my imagining of the Dorian’s potential ball outfit. What can I say, I couldn’t get the pearls out of my head, and then this sketch ran away from me. [Image ID: a digital drawing of Dorian Storm, a grey-blue air genasi, from the waist up. He’s leaning back casually, with a thumb hooked into a dark blue sash and a smile on his face. His ombre hair is in a half top knot bun, with braids on the side of his head. The left braid is decorated with little blue flowers (forget-me-nots). He is wearing a sheer crème-coloured chiffon shirt with a plunging neckline and puffed sleeves. Twisted around his neck is a pearl necklace with two short rows and one long row. Along the cuffs of the sleeves there are five little pearls. In his left ear, he is wearing a silver earcuff connecting to a silver earring. In his right ear he wears two silver earrings, a stud, and an earcuff. His hand is adorned with a silver ring with chains that connects to a little gemstone and a silver bracelet. /End ID]

Critical Role: Dorian Storm

I had the feeling this would be when Dorian left, and I’m still heartbroken.

He fits too well to leave.

They love him.

We love him.

The way everyone kind of shrunk into themselves when they realized.

Fearne protesting.

Orym’s silence.

Dorian’s emptiness.

GIVE 🗣 HIM 🗣 HIS 🗣 PEARLS 🗣

Ft. His byroden pageant fit. I gave him top surgery scars and nipple piercings but the outfit ended up obscuring it so :/

Alot of the jewelry was inspired by Indian jewelry/ Indian bridal jewelry

Alright, fanartists.

I’m gonna need y’all to bust out a drawing of the entire ball room with all the characters

that scene in c3 e12 where dorian decided to put away the clothes he wanted to wear, took it upon himself to wear someone else's clothes, and wear a pre-made mask? robbie describing what vibe the clothes gave off and how it felt borderline-militaristic with an emphasis on its lack of whimsy very much unlike his chiffon top and fabric-mache mask? that same chiffon top he received as a gift from opal, the one he got in result of a performance that wasn't intended for anyone else but the entertainment of his friends and himself; a piece of sentimental value? that same mask he handcrafted and made in the midst of his newfound group? those clothes he gave up the opportunity to wear because he felt the need to be something unlike himself just to fit the standard and image of "brontë secondsun wyvernwind" instead of dorian storm?

yeah. mhm.

it doesn't hurt at all.

Dorian is so determined to hold himself together by sheer force of will. He is determined to be okay.

But there’s a reason he ran.

Brontë Secondsun is everything he doesn’t want to be and everything he is trained to be.

And the reason his friends need him.

Everything he hates is everything they need.

Who else could pull off a foreign dignitary? The punk who hates people? The sorcerer who fears them? The man with no filter?The walking corpse? The klepto fae? The robot? The bodyguard?

Maybe Imogen could do it but it would make her miserable and cause her pain.

Orym is maybe the only other one who could pull it off but he’s quiet and reserved and disappears into an entourage a little too easily.

No, there’s a reason this fell to Dorian and he will go exactly where he is needed and do exactly what he’s been asked to do even if it’s the last thing he wants.

He will be okay. Because Wyvernwinds are never anything else.

It wasn’t that Dorian thought it would be easy. He knew it would ache the way a body does after holding itself in perfect posture for hours, unmoving. But he also knew that once a body holds itself taught long enough, even the most uncomfortable of positions comes as naturally as breathing.

It’s with that one deep breath that Dorian pulls himself back, back into Brontë, back into the aloof grace his parents taught him to show to the public. The arrogance, the twist of a smile, the delicate hand on his flute of champagne--he remembers it all without thinking, fits into it as if he never left it behind, and somewhere in the back of his mind, that makes it worse, but he is Brontë Secondsun Wyvernwind and nothing in the back of his mind matters so much as showing the right face.

And it would be that easy--as easy as Dorian had thought it would be--except as he turns to survey the room with the cool ease he learned from the receiving end, his eyes brush across Orym and stutter.

It’s been some months since Opal put on the circlet that haunted Dorian’s nights and days alike--some months since there’s been any reason to think Dorian might don the Spider Queen’s vestige himself--some months since Orym has looked at him like something volatile, something dangerous, something to protect against rather than just protect.

Dorian holds very still--perfect posture, but with none of the ease that marks one as proper gentry, his mother would scold him if she saw him now, but he can’t--he can’t move with Orym looking at him like he’s registering a threat.

“Dorian, are you going to finish that?” Fearne appears abruptly, batting her eyelashes in a fashion his mother would call libertine, as she points at his once-sipped flute of champagne.

For a moment, Dorian almost reflexively sneers at her disdainfully just as his mother would have, and the shock of nearly doing so leaves him so dazed he just nods in response.

Fearne smiles, her lovely mischievous smile that usually means they should probably leave before whoever she’s stolen from realizes their loss, and she plucks the flute from Dorian’s fingers and swallows down the whole thing.

Dorian, still shocked with himself, horrified at his impulse, looks back to where Orym had been standing to find him conversing, seemingly amicably, with Imogen. Without his stare, Dorian feels cut loose, feels his stomach turn with the knowledge that Orym--Orym must know what Dorian is capable of, what Brontë is capable of, and--

And in a handful of moments, Dorian will pull himself together, will be the noble the party, the group, needs him to be, and he will be perfect--detached and polite and superior to all--but it’s just--

It’s just not as easy as he thought it would be.

Dorian has so clearly built himself in opposition of his family and who they are. Even to the detail of his different ball outfits; one asymmetrical, handcrafted, adaptable, creative, the other rigid, non-descript, militaristic and handed down from someone else. It must kill him, a little to know that becoming Brontë is the logical choice but I think a part of him doesn't understand that his friends see Brontë as the mask and Dorian as the true face rather than the other way around. He said; Balls are a wonderful way to introduce yourself to a community and solidify an identity and then they asked him to use an identity he has turned away from, one he is uncomfortable with. To me, Dorian discarding his old mask and outfit in Eshtaross's Manor is Dorian trying to convince himself that his friends want, no even need, him to be Brontë Secondsun Wyvernwind. Not just for this ball but for other adventures. All of the time maybe. And I know it's reactionary thinking born from hurt and disappointment but in that moment I do think he believes it.