Next odd fic comment question (update: not comment on the actual fic but send a general message). A writer who I absolutely love has written a fic. It's not my personal jam as I'm not super into poly relationships for this particular pairing, so I probably won't be reading it. However, I still really appreciate that they've taken the time to write this fic and that the concept is Hella cool and I bet loads of people are gonna love it, and I'm really happy that they're still active in the fandom in general. Is this one of those times it's best to just say nothing? I don't want them to feel like I'm judging them for not writing a particular pairing when I'm absolutely not, they can write about whatever pairing they like! I'm glad they're writing anything for the fandom and they're great!
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Question to the amazing fanfic writers of the world. I always leave kudos on fics and I've been trying to comment more. Sometimes when I'm reading though my mental health will be trash and I can't think of anything to say beyond "I love this" or even just "💜" and I feel like those comments aren't necessarily worth anything to y'all. But I've seen a lot of writers asking people for comments to show they love the work, is it okay to send comments like that when the spoons are low?
When I was younger, I would dream of taking somebody I loved here. And he'd love it as much as I did. And we'd dance, right here, amidst all these statues. Just a daft pubescent fantasy.
Joey Batey is really approximately the same size and shape as Henry Cavill, and there are a number of clever techniques in pretty much all Jaskier's costumes to hide this fact and make him look about three or four inches narrower than he actually is. The costumers work really really hard to make him look that twinky, often with cleverly cut shoulder decorations that pretend he's trying to look bigger than he is and have the actual effect of making him look a lot lighter.
On a Doylistic level this makes sense, because it's hard to make Geralt look Huge and Imposing next to your non-combatant harmless sidekick if said sidekick is a jacked six foot burly man.
On a Watsonian level, however, the notion of Jaskier as this big meaty dude aggressively arguing with all his tailors to ensure that he looks as non threatening and foppish and entertaining as possible while also looking as sexy as he can (for a Jaskier definition of sexy, at least) is generating considerable entertainment for me this fine morning.
Geralt doesn't notice any of this until they try to share a tiny hostel bed on the road and Jaskier cuddles up to him and abruptly there is no more room in that bed
Ask and ye shall receive! I may not work in the fashion field but I do work in the costume production industry for theatre/film so this is totally my area. Using clothes to change someone’s appearance is super common, and Tim Aslam’s costume design for The Witcher is actually a really good example of this, so buckle up because this is a long ride!
Creating an illusion like this has two main components: shape (the style lines created by the clothes), and fit (the way the clothes hang on the person’s body), and is the result of close collaboration between the designer and the production team.
We’re going to talk about season one, because that’s where the difference is the most obvious. Take a look at Geralt:
First, let’s talk about shape. The goal here is to make Geralt look strong and imposing, and the best way to do that is to exaggerate the triangle of his upper torso. See how much broader his shoulders look than his waist in both images? A loose shirt over tight pants is a classic way to establish this, because the shirt blousing at the waist (note that the pants sit high up at the natural waist) makes the hips looks narrower in comparison. Note also that his shirt has an asymmetrical closure - a centered vertical line down the shirt would make him looks slimmer, while the off-center one adds width.
His armor does this by giving him those massive shoulder pieces, which both lengthen and raise his shoulder line. I would estimate that they raise Henry Cavill’s shoulder line by a good two inches just from the bulk of the leather alone. His torso armor also does a really clever thing by having a very subtle V shape to the vertical lines, making his waist look smaller. If you count the number of stripes above and below his belt (again, sitting high at the natural waist), you’ll notice that the narrow stripe at the front edge of the armscye disappears, which allows the side stripes to make that V shape.
Now let’s talk about fit. The fit of Geralt’s shirt looks simple but is actually super specific. It’s very easy for an actor to get lost in a shirt that is too loose - if there’s too much extra fabric then it will just make the actor look smaller by drawing attention to how baggy it is. This shirt fits just right: the sleeves are full enough to allow for movement but still relatively fitted (and rolling up the sleeves actually also helps add breadth to Geralt’s torso by continuing the horizontal line at his waist). The body of the shirt fits smoothly across the shoulders and chest, and has just enough fullness to drape at the waist without feeling baggy.
Now let’s look at Jaskier.
We’ll start with this look. Shape and fit are very interconnected here so it’s just gonna be a jumble. First thing I notice: the jacket. Unlike your traditional fantasy/historical doublet, all of Jaskier’s jackets end at the waist, rather than continuing into a peplum/skirt like Geralt’s armor does. This cropped jacket is evocative of childhood/immaturity, an association that is generally considered to have its roots in schoolboy uniforms of the 19th and early 20th century (see the image of schoolboys wearing “Eton Jackets” below)
Jaskier also tends to wear his jackets open. This creates a vertical line down his torso, which is generally slimming, but it also totally obscures the shape of his torso. The brain is going to take the line of his hip, which we can see, and the armscye of his jacket, (which actually looks to be cut ever so slightly artificially narrow but it’s hard to tell) and fill in a line between them, which is likely going to end up being slightly narrower than his actual ribcage. He does have poofs at the top of his sleeves, which can be a technique used to add width, but if they’re cut and fit carefully you can actually hide some of the breadth of the shoulders inside the poof and make it look like the fullness comes from the poof and not the body.
Note: the “armscye” is the technical name for the armhole, but specifically the torso part. The corresponding sleeve part is the “sleevehead.”
Again, we have another open jacket, this one with strong vertical lines. See how the line of Jaskier’s hip flows up through the edge of the doublet all the way up through the armscye? This makes his torso look narrower despite the jacket’s shoulder tabs. In contrast, this line is always broken on Geralt’s outfits, whether at the waist with his shirt or with the giant shoulder pieces with his armor. Jaskier’s pants also tend to fit more loosely, which de-emphasizes the triangle of his shoulders to waist.
Okay this is my favorite image to illustrate everything we have going on here. Look at Jaskier’s jacket. What’s the first thing you notice? The bright yellow inset slashes in his chest. The high contrast in color draws the eye inwards and distracts from the breadth of his shoulders, where we have another cleverly cut poof. His jacket is again cropped, with strong vertical lines, over the baggiest pants he wears in the season.
Now look at Jaskier and Geralt together. Jaskier is all about long vertical lines, while Geralt’s predominate lines are either horizontal or diagonal. Additionally, Jaskier’s hips look even to his shoulders, even if they’re not, and Geralt’s shoulders are exaggerated. The two characters have a very different presence, even if the actors underneath are similar.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this introduction to costume design! Creating the illusory effects like this is one of my favorite things and I am excited to share!!
I… I did not expect anyone to respond, let alone respond with a fucking screenshot-worthy answer. I love you. I literally love you. Can I marry you? Wait, can you be my tailor? Do you have an Etsy shop? I’m gonna be an archaeologist one day, I’ll need OUTFITS PLEASE I WANNA INDEFINITELY HIRE YOU
This is not my ship. This is not my subject. This is really not anything I ever anythinged about. I just have to reblog this because of the utter BALLER response this person gave, which revolutionized my perception of costume design without me even knowing I wanted said perception revolutionized. This comment is everything good about tumblr in one place, and @redhorsedawn, I salute you. Magnificent.
#and jaskier being consistently so much smaller in fic#is proof that all these tricks WORKED#and worked so well that people didn't even notice or question them#just accepted them and quickly incorporated it into their fanon
I even knew something clever was going on to make Joey Batey’s six feet look small and dainty and yet still the costuming was so impressive that I was genuinely astonished when this happened:
I see your ficlets are open and I wanted to request more superhero!merlin . i didn't know i liked that until i read yours lol. preferably hurt/comfort because i love that too. also I just wanted to say your fics are amazing
I’m going to be honest @elizabethleestorms…I have no idea which superhero AU you mean, because I think I’ve written a couple, but that doesn’t matter, I’m delighted by this prompt. Sorry this took so long, thank you for waiting.
Really tried my hand at #whump and I ended up writing a very long ficlet again.
(Not intentional, I was writing this already before I heard about Chadwick Boseman. RIP to the King.)
Prompts + Ficlets
***
It had started small.
Merlin would use his magic to save an elderly couple from a mugging. A man about to fall onto the train tracks would find himself falling back onto the concrete. He would trip a bloke who was bothering a girl in the streets.
Magic was banned in Camelot and had been for over thirty years, and Merlin had grown up learning to hide his magic. Not even his closet friends knew. But when he started university in Citadel City, Merlin had felt an overwhelming need to use his magic. There were so many problems he could fix and so many people he could help.
So it started small and soon escalated into something a bit more complicated. He started going out at night, slipping on a mask to hide his identity, and saving people from whatever he could find. Most people thanked him and quickly ran off, freaked out by the sorcerer in a mask. But then word got around, gossip and whispers about the sorcerer who would swoop in at just the right moment. People would try to ask him who he was, so Merlin had to learn to teleport so he could get away from them.
Then he started to up his game. He would listen to the police scanners and seek out places he knew criminals loitered. He was becoming a bit of a legend. People had a lot of different names for him, up until a pack of wyverns attacked the city. That was the first time he had been spotted during the day and photographed. His blurry figure was all over the news for a week. It had been a hassle, but it had earned him a proper title. Dragon Lord.
It had been years since he had first started being ‘Dragon Lord.’ He had gotten into a routine. He worked at the police station during the day, gathered intel as a lowly administrative assistant, and then went out at night as ‘Dragon Lord.’ He was exhausted most days, with little sleep to spare, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. He was exercising his magic, helping people. and he had started a rather heated debate on the magic ban in Citadel City.
All was going well for Merlin.
Until his boss, DI Arthur Pendragon found out about his magic.
It had been an accident, of course. The only other person who knew about his magic besides his family was Deputy Lance DuLac, whom Merlin had saved from a fluke griffin attack back in his university days. Merlin had saved Arthur’s ass from a few operations-gone-wrong, but Arthur still didn’t know that his assistant and Dragon Lord were one and the same.
Until the night when Merlin had been out as ‘Dragon Lord’ having heard about an arms deal planned by Cenred Cain, an infamous crime boss. But apparently Arthur and his team had also been keeping an eye on Cenred, because they had stopped the deal before Merlin could interfere.
It was all a bit of blur. The adrenaline in his veins and the magic in the air making his memories fuzzy.
Dragon Lord and Arthur had been cornered as the building was about to come down, and although he was able to create a safety-bubble around them, the backlash burned part of Merlin’s disguise from his body and face. He woke up with a horrible headache and Arthur’s face hovering over him, looking equal parts horrified and furious.
After that night, Arthur hadn’t spoken to him about it. But to be fair, Arthur had not said much to Merlin at all. Arthur had sworn that he wasn’t about to arrest Merlin, but that didn’t mean they were friends. No, Arthur made it clear hat he was done with Merlin.
Merlin figured it was a fair deal. Merlin had saved Arthur’s life and in turn Arthur wouldn’t arrest Merlin for several acts of sorcery. It didn’t mean Merlin wasn’t heartbroken. He wished Arthur would understand that magic wasn’t evil and that Merlin just wanted to do good in the world.
So over the past week Merlin had not gotten much sleep, to say the least. After Arthur had found out, Merlin had trouble sleeping, which was never good because his night-and-day schedule. Then there was the fact that his magic had been exhausted after stopping a building from collapsing on top of him and Arthur. But that had never stopped him from going out. Crime didn’t stop just because Merlin was a bit tired.
So when a bulette attacked downtown Citadel City, Merlin was already off to a bad start. Bulettes were as large as cars and built like tanks with armor plating all over their bodies. They lived underground, and although the bulette was just minding its own business, it was causing buildings to sink into the ground and minor quakes to rock the city. So when Merlin had tried to gently coax it back out of Citadel City, it had only felt the need to defend itself.
Which meant it started attacking people.
Merlin would be the first to admit that he wasn’t at his peak power either. His magic was still tired from the week previous and his fight with Arthur had mentally drained him. He had coped by going out more at night, but that meant he had only accumulated a handful of hours of sleep over the last seven days.
It barely flinched at the enchanted spears Merlin threw at it. Moving the ground beneath it did little to stop it. Burning it only made it angry. His movements were slower, barely dodging it’s attacks. He made rookie mistakes by trying to attack the bulette’s armor in the first place. Normally he would be able to evaluate its attacks and predict its next movements, but his mind was moving too slow.
He was a wreck, to say the least.
Then the bulette used its thickly armored tail to slam Merlin into a nearby lorry, which rocked with the impact. Merlin remembered hearing the crunch of metal, but nothing until he woke up to someone shaking him.
“Dragon Lord, you have to get up! Please! Sir! Please! It’s coming back!” the voice sounded young and very frightened. Merlin opened his eyes to find a young kid, eyes burning gold as the boy tried to wake Merlin’s magic with his own.
Merlin gasped, his entire body aching as soon as he was conscious again. His vision spun in and out for a moment, and he felt overwhelmingly nauseous. Concussion, he thought dimly.
“You have to get out of here,” Merlin grunted as he tried to get up. His ribs were killing him.
The boy shook his head, “You’re hurt…”
Merlin had to hold his breath as he got to hit feet, the pain almost making him black out as his ribs shifted to the new position. He closed his eyes and tried to take deep breathes, although every inhale and exhale felt like a thousand knives.
“Get to safety,” Merlin said, letting his magic wash over him. It wasn’t a spell he used often. It took too much energy and he was already tired as it was, but he was desperate. The kid scrambled back as Merlin began to glow gold, rising above the crumbled asphalt.
Merlin’s vision turned entirely gold and he spotted the bulette’s weak point, right under its front legs, where the armor didn’t cover. With his last enchanted spear, Merlin gored the beast.
Merlin dropped to the ground, his head spinning and his vision going black. He couldn’t pass out in public. It was too dangerous. One last spell, he thought. Fingers crossed that he would make it back safely.
He teleported into his flat, recognized that he had made it successfully, and then he dropped to the floor like someone had cut the strings from a marionette.
Merlin’s whole body hurt. Even when he wasn’t entirely conscious, he was aware of that. The blunt force trauma had certainly broken his ribs and given him a hell of a concussion.
He was aware of someone moving him from the floor, arranging his limbs onto his bed. Then he felt someone open his mouth slip some pills onto his tongue and guide him to drink water, then wiping up his face when he choked on the water and it spilled it over his face.
When he woke again it was to a dull feeling that he recognized as heavy painkillers. He opened his eyes to find Arthur hovering over him, checking his pupils with a flashlight.
“You’re not a doctor,” Merlin mumbled, not coherent enough to fully process what was happening.
“No, but you refused to go to A&E. So here I am.”
“I did?”
Arthur sighed, turning to Merlin’s bedside table where there was a glass of water with a straw.
“Drink. You need fluids. You’ve been out of it for a day.”
Merlin obeyed, his mind too foggy to argue.
Arthur left the room and Merlin was left to stare at the ceiling, watching his vision blur for a few seconds before he drifted off again.
He was a bit more coherent when he woke again, this time to Arthur whispering, “I know it hurts, but I need you to tell me where it hurts.” Arthur pushed down the bed sheet and prodded his ribs, watching Merlin’s reactions carefully.
“Hold still. I’m going to give you some lidocaine, okay?”
Merlin didn’t think he had much of a choice, but if it would stop his ribs from hurting, Merlin wasn’t going to complain. After Arthur injected the lidocaine, he softly ran a hand over Merlin’s numbed ribs. “Better?”
Merlin nodded, although the movement hurt his head. He realized the only light was his desk lamp, and even that minimal light caused him to flinch.
“Why are you doing this?” Merlin asked.
Arthur’s face was in shadow, but Merlin could see the pinched expression anyway.
“It was all over the news, Merlin. The live video of Dragon Lord dropping like a stone. Then you disappeared after looking like you were about to faint. I rushed over to your flat as soon as I could.”
Merlin smacked his lips which were cracked and dry. Arthur lifted the cup of water again, angling the straw to Merlin’s mouth.
Merlin took a drink and then managed to say, “But I thought…Aren’t you angry with me?”
“Of course I am, Merlin.” Arthur snapped, “I’m furious that you would keep this from me. I don’t get it, and I don’t trust you, but…”
“But?” Merlin swallowed thickly, his head pounding.
“But you’ve been saving so many people. And this…” Arthur gestured to Merlin’s body. Merlin looked down, wincing at the movement. He had gathered a fair few amount of ‘battle scars’ over the years. Burns, lacerations, and general bruising came with the job. Currently Merlin’s entire torso was a horrible splotchy mess of black and blue with tinges of green.
“You’re putting your own life on the line for people who would sentence you to a life in prison… I don’t understand it, but that doesn’t mean I don’t see right from wrong.”
Merlin gave a weak smile, “I think that’s you saying I was right for once.”
Arthur shook his head, “Merlin…”
“I know,” Merlin sighed, his ribs protesting at the heavy breath despite the lidocaine injections. “I just want to help. I just…My magic has to be for something, Arthur. All this power and I can’t use it to help people?”
Arthur frowned, his hand coming up to gently push back Merlin’s hair from his brow.
“We’ll talk about this later. You’re still too tired. Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up again.”
Merlin nodded fractionally, his eyes already drifting shut, watching Arthur get up and head for the door.
“Arthur…”
Arthur turned to look at him.
“Thank you.”
Arthur gave a small smile, “You too. Get some rest.”
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who else is in the mood to walk barefoot over the moors in a blood-red velvet ballgown w anguish in ur soul and wet leaves in ur hair while the wind blows moodily and dramatically?
Kilgharrah: hey man I’m like. the last dragon. ya know? could really use some company up in here. maybe get that egg for me??? do a bro a solid here???
Merlin, the last dragonlord, a grown-ass man, literally Emrys himself: I can’t, Dad said no :(
hey uh not to be Salty on main here or anything, but remember that time when Kilgharrah literally manipulated Merlin with his dead father and Merlin never had a moment to realize ‘hmmm, that’s pretty fucked up shit right there’??? because i do.
sometimes being a secret warlock means you gotta think fast but unfortunately for Merlin, he can either think FAST or he can think WELL. pls somebody help him.
Honestly, I do understand why this scene fell so flat with so much of the fandom - maybe if Merlin hadn’t grown up starving in a tiny, deprived village, it would have flown a lot better - but the knights’ blatant overacting still makes me ugly laugh every goddamn time
honestly, Mr. Emrys, I’m calling you on your bullshit. right here. right now. sorry but it’s gotta be done. no one can possibly be as fucking pretty as you and still be human. you’re a fae. you’re a goddamned fae Mr. Emrys just admit it.
no offense but,,,,,,,,,,, the utter reverence in Merlin’s eyes when he looks at the egg,,,,,,,,,,,,, the utter reverence when he reaches to touch the egg,,,,,,,,,,,,, i weep,,,,,,,,,,,
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Hey, do you know that feeling of hitching up a long skirt so you don’t fall on your face when walking upstairs, and then you immediately become a wretched yet resolute Jane Austen character? It’s a universal thing, right?
Hair blowing in the wind and suddenly you’re hovering on a cliff by the sea, staring out into the waves and praying your merchant husband will return from his voyage across the ocean
Hood up against the rain and wind and you’re a medieval abbess defying the weather and travelling on foot with your people to find a place to establish a new community.
The cool fall wind catches your skirt, sends leaves swirling around your feet, and catches your hair and sends it flying behind you, and suddenly you’re a enchantress roaming the woods, daring any man to challenge your power.
Leaning on your shovel in the garden, all dirty and sweaty and sore, and suddenly you’re a warrior catching a breath, propped up by her bloody broadsword.
You will not take my love. You will not take my empathy. You will not take my human decency. I will not become like you, I will not be led by hatred and violence. We will win because we have something you do not, we have understanding and acceptance and each other. YOU WILL NOT WIN.
I have an au for this in my head where Merlin never becomes Arthur’s manservant and instead becomes a fully trained physician. Arthur meets Merlin repeatedly due to various injuries and though his bedside manner leaves a little to be desired Arthur falls for him anyway. Oh an Merlin still travels with them as a combat medic if the need arises. Which judging by Merlin’s destiny and Arthur’s inability to not get knocked out, the need arises fairly often. Also Merlin as a physician gets more respect from everyone, which he really deserves.
I made this so long ago and I still need to read a fic like this... if anyone wants to write one? *bats eyelashes and empties bank account* (I’ll be honest though I’m a fine art photographer so really living the starving artist... though I can share a stale poptart? Or take your photo looking like a medieval knight?)
Or if anyone knows of any fics like this?
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