Or is a lot of this Meredith & Orsino art making Orsino the same height as Meredith if not taller?
IDK it just looks odd to me.
It’s the camera angle. He’s like the Tom Cruise of Thedas.
They make Meredith stand in a pit. :D
Alternatively, Anders’s Box of Shame is actually just the box that Orsino normally stands on when she’s around.
I like this idea. I like this idea a lot.
Either that or FOUL BLOOD MAGIC
So my mother and I are going to attempt a Thanksgiving dinner today for 21 people, only slightly hindered by the fact that we are British and therefore have no idea what happens at Thanksgiving whatsoever. Extensive Martha Stewart-based research has happened but mostly we are pulling this out of our arses. (my knowledge is ‘marshmallows something something turkey something pilgrims’). I will take pictures and report back this evening!
fugitivus: have you eaten human flesh yet?
bokegaeru: its on my to do list
- conclusion: a game about eating human flesh
syberfag: killed the guys who killed me
syberfag: then took their cheese
- conclusion: a game about eating cheese
It occurs to me that a lot of Skyrim is about putting stuff in your mouth to see what will happen. It’s a bit like being a toddler, in a way.
thesilverfeatheredraven asked you:
Something Skryim-based! How about one of your characters having winter-time shenanigans?
It’s been years since Skuld was in Skyrim, and she has missed the snow much more than anything else. Nothing she can conjure could ever come close to the fat white flakes that say home to her more powerfully than mead or song or the soft, greasy smell of the sheep’s hides one must sleep under or freeze. So when the first flurries start in Winterhold, she hurries down to the courtyard and starts piling up the drifts with hurried, practised movements.
When J’zargo leaves the Hall of Attainment he is immediately dinged on the ear by a small ball of hard-packed snow. The khajit hisses and moves to throw up a barrier, but is stopped short by Skuld’s laughter.
J’zargo’s face twitches into a grin that shows his fangs. Quickly, he gathers his own handful and retaliates, adding a touch of his own magic to keep it together where his skill cannot.
Skuld fights dirty, throwing fast and deadly accurate, but J’zargo does too, throwing magic frost as often as natural until the courtyard is a storm of flying ice.
It is perhaps not seemly for the Arch-Mage to be having a snowball fight with one of the students, but not a single one of the College’s teachers is brave enough to venture out into that storm and stop them.
varric has a grumpy evening!
I love you for this prompt. Cheered me right up!
Varric Tethras was not a superstitious dwarf, not by any definition of the word, but he knew when he was beaten and if tonight was any indication all the gods above and below Thedas had specifically arranged to make his evening unpleasant.
First, he had misplaced his eyeglasses. Varric did not like his eyeglasses, but they were a natural product of too many nights spent scribbling by the light of a few candles (he’d been meaning to warn Blondie as much) and he needed them, dammit, and they were gone. After tossing his room with a speed and thoroughness that would have done any Carta thug proud and checking every pocket and pouch of his clothes, Varric accepted defeat, sent a runner to the lens grinder with an order, and settled down for a calming cup of tea. Donnen Brennicovick was just going to have to wait.
That was when he found the note from Merrill.
I don’t think that this amount of caffeine is very good for you. I replaced it with some Dalish herbal infusions that I think you will like very much!
It was only gentlemanly restraint that prevented Varric’s mug (a wobbly creation with ‘A Present from Orlais’ stamped on the side) from crashing into the wall. Varric was not given to dramatic displays of emotion- it was unseemly for a storyteller to get too caught up in the moment.
Instead, he pinched his nose, took a deep breath and was counting to four when Hawke crashed through the door with his characteristic bluster.
“Normal people knock.” Varric reminded the human, a little more sharply than usual. Hawke didn’t notice.
“Bandits! Wounded Coast! Let’s go!”
Well, at least it would help relieve these feelings and the bandits rarely got close enough to require reading glasses. Varric reached for Bianca, then stopped. Stared.
There was a scratch on her stock.
“Varric?” Hawke’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Are you alright?”
Varric was not given to dramatic displays of emotion. But there are exceptions to every rule.
Oh, people were going to die tonight.
I am having a very grumpy evening with nothing going right and I need something to distract me before I do something peevish.
So! Prompt me! And I will write you a drabble! And I promise it will not be at all grumpy or peevish.
Reblog this, I want to follow all of you bad ass mother fuckers.
Y U bugged on console?!
LET ME LOVE YOU