Discover Top Posts Tagged with #bastardwarden

brought to you by discord conversations with @bastardwarden:

alistair, drinking water: ......what’s in this? beruthiel, dryly: ice. alistair: interesting.....flavour..... beruthiel: it’s called ‘cold’

#local fereldan doesn't like 'unusual' recipes more at 11 #shitposting basically #bastardwarden #this was too good i had to keep it somewhere

Kiss meme 14 or 20 + Alistair

kisses by the number || accepting

#14 ‘I don’t have the words right now so here’s a kiss’

“I don’t know, Alistair,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “I just....” She trailed off, shaking her head. She cared about him -- quite a lot, in fact. Maybe she even loved him. No, that was a disservice; she did love him, he had opened up a part of her she’d long ago thought wrapped up and set aside to gather dust and cobwebs. He’d exposed it to the light, and she’d found that it was gleaming. And he had done it, so far as she could tell, without even trying.

His face crumpled a little at her response and she wanted to change her answer just to change his expression; but that would be a disservice, too. It wasn’t as though he’d actually proposed, after all; he’d only asked if she had ever considered marrying again. And until a few months ago, she would have said no, never, never again will I be anyone’s wife. But now... she did not know, and that was already more of a concession than perhaps he could understand; and it threw something inside her into turmoil too, a rock-solid certainty found instead to be shifting sand under her.

“My husband... former husband... he, he was....” She fumbled for the words. How to tell Alistair what it had been like, being owned by that man, treated as of the same worth to him as the finely bred mounts in his stables? Less so, perhaps; she had not produced offspring, after all.

His expression had changed; now, instead of that almost boyish disappointment or sting of hurt, there was a look of such gentle concern it nearly undid her entirely. Helplessly, she leaned her forehead against his for a moment, if only to stop up her vision of that tenderness, and then she kissed him slowly, answering his real question the only way she could.

“I will... think on it,” she said finally, the tiniest of hitches in her voice.

@bastardwarden

#bastardwarden #alistair relationship placeholder tag #DOLLY WE NEED A TAG #WE STILL DO

@bastardwarden

babe. babe im whoever you want me to be

actually can u be my human shield???

#crack.#bastardwarden #i come across bunch of wild aliens and im being shot at constantly

"You're lonely too." ((DESPAIRING WINK))

DEATHLESS || accepting

It was all too easy to think of Alistair as a foolish sortof man; his easy grins and stammering, blushing ways, his light humor and gentle,earnest heart. If a man like him had been described to her, she often thought,she’d have decided at once not to like him. But there was something aboutAlistair which was deeper than all of that. Something gentle, yes, and yetwounded also. He was not a stupid man, nor a foolish one; he was only a man whohad been hurt deeply, to his core, and who yet chose to smile and to laugh, tokeep a simple – but not simplistic – wonder and joy in him.

How she yearnedfor that. She felt like a velvet-winged moth at times, circling his light,drawn to him. Would she burn herself to flakes of ash if she followed the lighttoo closely? Or would she only find a home at last, a warm lantern lit to showher the way?

He was not a foolish man. He had seen to the heart of her asfew – none? – ever had before. He saw much, and understood more than headmitted to.

“Yes,” she admitted softly, feeling an sort of oddtrepidation. Solitary they’d named her, and solitary she’d been. Alone did notalways mean lonely; and yet, if she was honest with herself, she had alwaysbeen both. She touched his cheek with gentle fingertips.

“But perhaps now… no longer somuch as I was.”

#bastardwarden #that special magical verse where we never quite figured out how they met #but they definitely kissed once #and it was lovely #clings to dolly #clings to alistair

Kill me w a berustair kiss

The look on Varric’s face, she was certain, would hauntBerúthiel to the end of her days.

Where’s Hawke?

Gone. Stayed behind. That it had been Hawke’s own choice didnot in any way lessen the burden, or lighten the crushing weight of it. Shecould not even take comfort in having Alistair beside her; because how couldshe know, really know, if her motives had been pure? It was logical, of course.The Wardens needed leadership, and he was ranking. Without him, they would bedecentralized, would fall apart into a weaker force, just at a time when shemost needed strong allies. It made sense. It was pragmatic, like all herchoices were pragmatic.

But Maker, did it hurt! Because of course she loved him,too. Of course she did. More deeply than she’d even known, until the moment ofchoice had come and she had looked into honey-colored eyes and known. It was pragmatic, but it wasemotional, too. Even sentimental. She’d saved him at least as much for herselfas she had for her fucking cause.

The Inquisitor held herself together as long as she had to.Her chin was high and her narrow shoulders were back, her spine long andstraight. The weight of her armor was a help, making her move in a certain way,grounding her and reminding her of who she was now. She said the things she hadto say, and made her face twist into the expressions it had to wear. Shewondered, all the while, if Varric could ever forgive her. She wondered if itmattered if he did. She knew it wouldn’t stop her from making the next harddecision that arose, because nothing could. She was using these people, and shewas using their willingness, and using their belief. She had to. It was herjob.

The Inquisitor held herself together, but once the door toher borrowed chambers in Adamant had closed, Berúthiel slumped and her facecrumpled. Only Alistair’s strong arm, suddenly around her waist, kept her onher feet. With a low cry, she turned and flung herself against him, tearssoaking into the neck of his gambeson as she shook and shuddered there,breaking down the only time she could, with the only audience she could allow.

But there were few things more uncomfortable than embracing aperson in full armor, and one of those was doing so while in full armor oneself.It could not last, and Berúthiel, for all her anguish, was not much given totears in any case. She broke away and looked at him a moment. His skin wasstill as filthy as her own, stained with demon ichor and the clinging fog ofthe Fade and worse things, probably. His eyes looked suspiciously wet as well,but after her own show of weakness she was not about to comment.

She opened her mouth and found no words waiting. They couldtalk about it later, maybe. For now, all she wanted was him, and theirfilthiness be damned. She leaned in and kissed him hard, muffling his surprisedsqueak with her tongue.

#inkapacitated #bastardwarden #did this kill the dolly enough?#scheduled post

“Hit me with your best shot.” (wink u know)

training tension starters || @bastardwarden

Berúthiel grinned at him. “Is magic allowed, or is that cheating?” she asked with an expression far more cheeky than normally seen on her features. Her sword was a bit of magic anyway, not the spirit-blade Vivienne bore but an old Tevinter style, pure buzzing energy. She lifted it into the ready stance he’d shown her and glanced at him sidelong, her other hand at her side and coated in the pale green glow of Fade-magic which concealed the fact that she was weaving another working altogether.

Before he could answer, she clenched the fingers of that hand together and the threads of magic knotted up and closed, binding his armored arms to his sides and his ankles to each other in cords of force. Grinning at him again, she let the magic of her sword wink out and stepped inside what would have been his guard -- had he been able to raise his sword before she’d caught him.

“You’ve neglected your Templar training, I see,” she told him, stealing a kiss and letting the magic binding his arms melt away even as she did so. “Is my best shot good enough?”

#bastardwarden #ok dolly let's see you blush #berustair tag

“So,” she places a mug of ale in front of his eyes that seemed to be staring into the abyss, searching for something in the flames of the fire. Alistair and Alim hadn’t arrived that long ago and even if the whole reaction of the headquarters wasn’t necessarily joyous (because... you know, an archdemon was killed but no wardens were sacrificed? And somehow people not dying is a reason to be worried?), Loane had been one of the first to congratulate them with a large and open smile. She didn’t care what they had done, if there was hope that no wardens needed to die in order to kill archdemons she was there for it. Ok, maybe there were a few exceptions but ignorance was bliss and as a head scout that sort of information was definitely not something she was curious for unless someone from the higher ups dragged her in to talk about it.

And in that case... She’d get worried then “How’re you and your buddy enjoying Orlais?“ she holds her own cup between her bare hands, the casteless tattoos now clearly shown against the flames. She takes the cup up with a smile, black eyes looking directly at him “And do you like your new orlesian buddies?”

@bastardwarden // starter call ( selectively accepting )

#bastardwarden #loane shatterspine ( muses )#warden ( pos-blight )#( take your time getting to this fingerguns )