I Listen M8, I Didnt Need To Be Called Out Like This Today

I… listen m8, I didn’t need to be called out like this today

“fuck you my child is completely fine” your child is in their 20’s watching scenes from their favorite dragon age romance to feel loved

XD wyll same

@eruraviel YOUR REBLOG & TAGS ON MY POST WERE SO LOVELY TO READ 😭😭😭 I just wanted to draw it all!

(Here’s a link to the original post w/ reblog & tags for reference!)

Someone loosing color doesn’t mean they loose melanin

As someone who has studied decomposition due to my job (special effects makeup artist), I need people to realize that the skin doesn't get substantially more pale or 'turn white' when a person dies. Their skin just becomes less saturated due to blood no longer pumping through their veins. People who have dark skin very much remain dark skinned, just with a more purple or greyed tone.

Also blood loss doesn't make you white either. I've encountered people with dark skin come into the hospital with major blood loss who become quite paled in that their skin looses all vibrancy and some colour, but they don't suddenly become ghostly white.

you've said before you think loghain was in love with maric. I've never read the stolen throne so I'm curious about what makes you headcanon it.

Oh, you know. Just some guys being dudes.

Then Loghain invariably arrived from the battle, still armoured and covered in blood and sweat. He would take one look at Maric, frown thoughtfully, and declare that since Maric came out of the fight alive, all was well.

With the long weeks spent camped, Loghain devoted a great deal of time training Maric on the finer points of swordsmanship and archery. He claimed Maric was a poor student, but the truth was their training sessions became an excuse to spend time in each other’s company. Maric found Loghain endlessly fascinating, repeatedly trying to pry a story out of the tight-lipped man regarding his days as an outlaw, asking and insisting until he relented out of pure exasperation. Maric’s endless supply of charm was apparently capable of wearing down almost anyone, and it wasn’t long before Maric and Loghain were a constant sight together on the practice field.

Outside of the Night Elves, Loghain was regarded as a taciturn and even unfriendly man. Maric had a way of drawing him out, she noted, which she had been unable to do during their months travelling the Bannorn.

There were times when Loghain looked in a mirror and didn’t recognize the man who was staring back out at him. A lieutenant in the rebel army, confidant to the prince whom fate had deposited in his lap so long ago—was it only three years? It felt like an eternity.

Loghain chuckled wearily, scratching his head. “I’m not used to talking this much,” he admitted.“Nonsense. You talk to me all the time. Rowan always says I’m the only one who can make you string more than three words together at once.” Maric grinned, and then his face became very serious. He reached out and put a hand on Loghain’s shoulder, the hand of a concerned friend. “So talk to me. Do you really have to do this now?”“If not now, then when? It’s been three years.” Loghain turned back to the task of tying the saddlebags. “I’m not one of your rebels, Maric, not really. Nor am I one of your knights. There’s no place for me here.”“I could knight you.” It sounded almost like a threat.

Holding tightly on to the staff, Maric got down on his knees. Alarmed, Rowan ran over to support him, to try to pull him back up, but he refused. The staff quivered, and he grunted with effort as he dropped down fully and then looked up at Loghain. “Please, I’m begging you. You and Rowan are the only friends I have.”Rowan stopped short, her hand flinching away from Maric as if he were red hot. She stiffly backed away from him, her face a mask of stone.Loghain stared down at Maric, horrified by the grandiose gesture. Worse, he felt his resolve crumbling. This had felt so much clearer in the night. Now he felt like a coward. “You are opening your wound,” he complained at Maric.Maric winced, holding his bandaged side gingerly. “Um… probably, yes.”“Must be from all the exertion,” Rowan commented dryly.Loghain shook his head in disbelief. “Maker’s breath, man, aren’t you supposed to have some dignity? Somewhere?”“Me? Dignity?”“Being the supposed future King and such.”“I think Rowan took my dignity.”She snorted derisively, folding her arms. “There was nothing else worth having.”Maric chuckled and then looked up at Loghain again, serious. “So does this mean you’re staying, then? I practically ran here in my smallclothes, you know.”“If you had, that would certainly make this quite the picture, wouldn’t it?”“I’m serious.” Loghain could see that he was, serious beyond a doubt. “I don’t think we can do this without you.”Apparently he should have sneaked off while it was still dark, leaving his leathers and everything else behind. Because there was no other way he was going to escape, was there? He sighed irritably at Maric. “Well, if you intend to come running after me every time I try to leave—”“Not every time.”“Very well. I’ll stay.”Maric grinned broadly and struggled to stand back up, but did so far too quickly. He cried out in pain and almost fell, but Rowan rushed forward and caught him first. Her armour scratched against his bare chest, and he flinched in her arms, laughing at the same time. “Ow! Careful with those!”“How very manly you are, my prince,” she sighed.

Loghain thought he should speak, but as the tension built, it seemed to become an insurmountable obstacle. He returned his attention to the saddle, feeling Rowan’s eyes on his back.After what seemed like forever, she spoke, her voice pained and hesitant.“Were you leaving because of me?”He stopped. “I was leaving because I was the lesser man. According to you.”She flinched.“I… shouldn’t be the only reason you stay.”“You’re not.” He turned toward her, his gaze hard. “He is.”

The hall had reached a fever pitch of chattering voices and clinking wine goblets when Maric finally stood from his seat. Loghain thought he looked small in his black robe, an ermine lined garment that they had appropriated from the former owner of the manor. He did look regal, however, and would have looked more so were it not for the nervous sweat dripping from his face.

He reached across the fire and patted Maric reassuringly on the shoulder, in the awkward manner of one who was completely unfamiliar with such gestures. Maric stared at Loghain in astonishment. “Wow, you’re pretty good at that,” he chuckled.“Shut up.” Loghain grimaced.“I agree with Maric.” Rowan smiled grimly. “Console me, now.”

Loghain turned and looked at Maric in surprise. “Maker’s breath, man! Do you love her?”Maric flinched. Far better for Loghain to have taken a knife and stabbed it into his back.

“Oh, Maric,” she sighed. “You are a good man. A trusting man.”“And look where it’s gotten me.”“Look, indeed.” She summoned a wan smile. “Your people adore you. The men in this army would lay down their lives for you. My father loved you. Loghain—” She stopped short and struggled to continue.

Also, one from the Calling for the road -

From the way the King looked back at him, almost resentfully, Duncan could tell there was a fight waiting to happen. He could tell that this Loghain was more than an advisor. He seemed almost like a brother, perhaps. Or the King’s keeper.

Imagine a bunch of Nords using their battle cry ability in unison. I’m just imagining how epic that would be. Could enough Nords doing it together make the average dragon flee? Imagine Imperial soldiers straight from Cyrodiil being sent to fight Stormcloaks, and absolutely shitting themselves when the Nords all start magic yelling while charging at them with battleaxes. 

Like, it sucks ass that we only ever see the player use special race abilities in Skyrim. I wanna see General Tullius use Voice of the Emperor at the peace meeting so everyone shuts the fuck up. I wanna see Teldryn Sero set himself on fire with Ancestor’s Wrath while absolutely wrecking someone. I wanna see Veezara use Histskin to heal the wound from Cicero so he isn’t helpless during the sanctuary raid. I wanna see Faendal command every single chicken in Riverwood to gang up on Sven and peck his eyes out.

Concepts of the characters from Dragon age The Stolen Throne: Loghain - his younger version reminds me of a mix Nathaniel Howe with Fenris. Rowan - I wanted to give her a strong silver-eyed Claymore look: Rowan the Faint Smile, if you know what I mean Maric - it’s said in the Calling that Cailan inherited his eye-colour from Rowan, and Fiona has green, that means Maric had hazel? Katriel - a baby-angel with striking green eyes, just as she’s described in the book.