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#dai – @bobbiesquares on Tumblr
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*sighs eternally*

@bobbiesquares / bobbiesquares.tumblr.com

Hi! I'm Bobbie. She/her. I post a lot of: Critical Role, Dimension 20, Baldur's Gate 3, the Magnus Archives, PJO/HoO, D&D, fiction, and writing resources.
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madamebadger

Character Headcanon: Poor Master Dennet

You know, I always feel a little sorry for Master Dennet. The Inquisitor is like, hey, I need a horse expert! Here is a horse expert! And he comes along to be your horse expert.

And for a while all is well. He brings his own fine horses, and the Inquisitor adds to the stable as she finds new breeding stock—often excellent. Where she got the charger from, he doesn’t know, and he feels too honored by having it in his care to ask.

And then the Inquisitor starts coming back with like… deer. And Dennet scratches his head, because he knows horses, and just because it has four hooves and you can put a saddle on it doesn’t make it a horse. Hell, the food and space and exercise requirements for a cob and a draft horse aren’t the same—a goddamn deer is presumably completely different. But he goes around Skyhold rounding up Dalish elves until he finds one who knew something about halla, on the principle that that’s probably the closest thing, and they work it out. (He’s always respected the way Dalish treat their halla, so it’s not that big of a leap. And even though Dalish—the Charger—doesn’t know anything much about how to raise halla, he looks the other way when she wants to spend half a day in the deer’s box stall being all affectionate at it. Can’t hurt.)

But deer of various kinds are at least still… well… grass-eating hoofed animals. Things don’t begin to really go sideways until they bring back the first dracolisk.

It’s a lizard. It’s a giant meat-eating lizard. Dennet is a master of horse, and he will stretch that to deer in a pinch, but asking him to figure out the care and feeding of big spiky lizard things is a bit much. It is—he tries to explain, first to Cullen and then to Josephine and finally to the Inquisitor herself—as if someone had decided that because you knew how to knead bread, you were obviously a master pugilist, because both things involved punching things. For his trouble he got a friendly clap on the shoulder and a “Just do your best! We can free up some funds to hire you more help!” (help from where? was he to hang up fliers somewhere for dracolisk handlers? where exactly was one supposed to go for that?).

(We will not even discuss the zombie horse with a sword through its head. We will not. The zombie horse got a stall to itself and was studiously ignored, on the principle that it was dead, and not much Dennet did could either help or hurt it.)

Dennet knew that he was in over his head and then some when the Inquisitor showed up with a charming grin and a giant fucking nug, and all he thought was, “Better see if any dwarves know what to feed it.” (Dagna does, but he’s a little afraid because she keeps having these ideas for ‘experimental feed,’ and….)

At least his life is never boring.

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siriusdraws

Poor Master Dennet

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vigilskeep

they should have made you marry josephine right after duelling for her hand in public. for setting-appropriate cultural norms and propriety. and because it would be so deeply entertaining

can you imagine how hectic it would be to plan a wedding overnight at skyhold. missives racing to and fro. seamstresses working like madwomen trying to put some kind of reasonable outfits together. cullen barking at soldiers to form a workable formal procession. sera’s definitely hidden something in the cake and everyone’s just hoping it’s not bees. varric’s trying to take notes while staying out of the way of a cassandra on the warpath against anyone threatening the romance of the day. the iron bull’s never been to a wedding before and has to keep asking if it normally involves this much yelling. josephine trying over and over again to take over arranging things while leliana insists the bride has to sit back and “enjoy it, josie, it only happens once! (unless they don’t treat you as they should. in which case we’ll dispose of them and get you another.”) the flowers are all wrong, the fortress is shabby, the bog unicorn is making some ungodly noise in the background. the vows are unprepared and earnest. it’s chaos. it’s a mess. it’s the best day she’s ever had

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Once, I was sure I died. I did die. Who else but the Maker could’ve resurrected me?

A few other related tidbits of interest:

The Canticle of Exaltations refers to the mountain upon which the Temple of Sacred Ashes was built as ‘the ninth sacred mountain’ (Exaltations 8) - meaning there are at least eight others.

Flemeth’s resurrection ritual takes place on Sundermount, which might well be one of those others.

(putting the rest of this under a cut because some of it is spoilers for my fic, if anyone considers theoretical meta underpinnings spoilerific)

It’s sure fun to conspiracy theory about this and the ending from The Horror of Hormack:

(Spoilery if you haven’t read it)

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jakface

I am THE WORST

Jan 25, 2015.

[ID: A series of drawings of Solas from Dragon Age Inquisition labelled with different types of egg.

This is egg: Normal Solas as he appears in game.

Scotch egg: Solas in a kilt playing a bagpipe.

Scrambled egg: A gif of the Iron Bull lifting and shaking Solas by the shoulders.

Deviled egg: Solas in a devil outfit, running and shouting with fire on his hand.

Fried egg: Solas shirtless and getting sunburned in the desert sun.

Egg roll: Solas sleeping in his bedroll.

Fried egg squared: Solas smoking. Presumably weed.

Poached egg: Solas relaxing in a natural spring.

Pickled egg: Solas drunk and passed out on the tavern floor.

Eggs benedict: Solas but drawn to look like Benedict Cumberbatch. End ID]

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reblogged

Blackwall would have real problem keeping his bullshit with real wardens

Dec 22, 2014.

[ID: Fanart of Blackwall, Alistiar, and op’s Warden from Dragon Age. In the first panel the warden turns to Blackwall and asks him: “Blackwall, how many Darkspawn are here?” to which he sweats and makes a flat face as he says: “A lot.” In the second panel they ask: “Alistair?” who slits his eyes over at Blackwall as he responds immediately: “64.” Finally, Alistair and the warden slice a darkspawn’s head off, Alistair still looking suspiciously at Blackwall he adjusts to say: “63.” End ID]

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I posted a not so good photo of my Solas mural (painted by yours truly) somewhere a year ago (here) and you know what, i decided to share some much better pics to show how nice it actually looks irl. I am in love with it and I’m being nostalgic bout Dragon Age today, so, please,bear with me boasting about it again 

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