#wardens writing

[deimcs]

DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (2009) + iconic lines [2/?]

[mendellyill]

Just saw a post about zevrans torturers in the fade being dalish elves that made me think about this.

I was listening to zevrans dialogue with the warden and other companions and zevran truly doesn't identify with or as basically any of the groups he could conceivably be a part of. He's left the crows so he's no longer a crow, he was rejected by the dalish and is not really a "true elf", he can't go back to being a kid in the brothel (last place he felt unconditional love). He's never had a lover which wasn't a contract or he didn't kill. He's just very dissociated from himself and everyone around him.

The only thing he consistently identifies as is being worth 7 gold coins. He says it to the warden more than once. He says it to some of the companions. My guys got 1 thing defining his self worth and it's that the crows bought him for 7 gold coins. And what does the warden give him to increase affinity? Gold bars. The warden is saying "You are worth so much more than what the crows paid for" in a quite literal sense. I'm emotional about the pixel man again.

[effelants]

Super Secret Fic Project is super secret no longer. Its name is, and always has been, Sanguine.

It's a loosely canonical chronicle of the events of Dragon Age: Origins featuring a canonically impossible Warden and a F!Amell/Alistair pairing, which results in some familiar situations resolved in unfamiliar ways.

It is fully pre-written (by myself, over the course of the past seven years) and illustrated (by the exceptional @vjatoch), and is being published in a serial format with weekly updates beginning... right now. Literally, right now.

Read chapter 1 of Sanguine here on AO3!

[dontbegreedy]

Alistair and Warden Surana by @ashalle-art <3

[surasca]

A commission of my Warden Nerys Surana by @vats9underscore9

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 6 (Dubcon)

Harry Warden x Reader (NSFW)

(773 Words)

Summary: Whatever happens in the mines, stays in the mines

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, EXTREMELY dubious consent (like seriously), dead dove do not eat, descriptions of violence, guilt, confusing and shameful feelings, reader is a little delirious from the mining fumes, fear play (kinda), penetrative sex, Harry Warden being scary, coming on clothes, pickaxe threats

Notes: this one was a little tough to write, but I’m proud of how it turned out :) I’m starting to near the “oh man, I’m running out of inspo” phase, but fuck it we ball, we’ll push through LMAO enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was no time to catch your breath. You weren’t sure how long you’ve been running and you didn’t know where you could even go. These mines were like a labyrinth. The air became lighter the further down you ran. Exhaustion and gradual decrease of oxygen quality makes for a deadly duo, but you couldn’t think about that now. All your friends were dead- at least, that’s what you’ve begun to accept. Reaching another dead end in front of you, the heavy footsteps of the murderous miner pounded in the distance.

Back against the wall, you sink to your feet, feeling utterly helpless. Around the corner of the darkened mineshaft, Harry Warden- the urban legend of the town, stalks into view.

As he creeps closer, his bloodied pickaxe comes into view. You remember just an hour ago, how it swung into skulls of your peers. The screams ring out in your brain. The image of the light leaving their eyes as blood and organs pool around you is forever etched in your memory.

You feel yourself being lifted off your feet, the collar of your shirt crumpled between his gloved hands. You can’t see anything at all behind the vacant, blacked out eyes of his dust mask. The wind is knocked out of you as he slams you against the jagged walls of the tunnel. You’re forced to deeply inhale the noxious fumes of the mine, making your brain go hazy as the miner’s hands grip onto your waist, traveling under your shirt.

You let out a soft gasp that weren’t entirely sure was out of fear or arousal. You’ve been running in these mines for so long, you didn’t know what to feel anymore. On one hand, you felt scared, alone, traumatized- definitely in need of some therapy after a situation as dire as this, wanting nothing more than to push him off you and run out of the tunnels. On the other hand, you were feeling utterly amorous as you allowed yourself to get felt up and groped by a pickaxe-wielding maniac, morbidly curious to see how far you were willing to go.

Your brain was running itself completely ragged. You didn’t know what you wanted anymore. Maybe the poor air quality and fumes were messing with your head- scrambling the terror and confusion and adrenaline and lust that were fighting over how your body should be reacting.

You could hear heavy grunts and muffled breathing through his mask. He was impossibly close to you, the heat of each other making the already compact mining tunnels feel like a pressure cooker. The unintentional (or was it?) friction from one another distracted you from your thoughts. It didn’t feel right to enjoy this, especially after witnessing something so violent and grotesque, but that didn’t matter once Harry Warden unzipped his pants, freeing his aching cock.

As you felt your pants being forced down, you attempt to push off the walls, but are met with his pickaxe- dripping with that fresh crimson, to the side of your neck.

You stare at him, terrified, yet exceedingly desperate. “I don’t want to die.” You whisper.

Harry reels back, swinging the pickaxe. You violently flinch, shrieking in terror as the pickaxe is wedged into the wall beside you. Before giving you any time to settle from the fear, Harry Warden pushes himself inside you, dripping and eager.

You wail in ecstasy as his cock pumps into you so quickly. You grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself. The strangled groans from inside his mask burrow their way into your mind, mingling with the screams and pleading from your friends being violently murdered. It scared you to know how aroused you were. Your friends were dead and here you were, getting fucked stupid by the man who killed them. And you liked it.

Your orgasm crashes into you, powerfully and unexpectedly. You shudder around the miner, who sloppily continues to thrust into you, not far behind in his own release. You could now add cum to the blood and dust that stained your clothes as he shoots his load onto you.

Your tainted clothes were the least of your problems now compared to your tainted mind. The thought of what just happened finally begins to sink it. You weren’t scared or disgusted, but were more so scared and disgusted at the fact that you didn’t feel like that at all. You didn’t know what would happen next, but there was one thing that you would continue to tell yourself for as long as you had left to live: Whatever happens in the mines, stays in the mines.

[bleue-flora]

Ok, I recently wrote an essay [here] talking about the definition and duties of civil engineering as well as the ethics because of the brain rot @swordfright gave me with calling Dream Sam’s ultimate engineering project. So, because I actually am a civil engineer I took it upon myself to design the title and summary of quantities sheets just like I do at work for roads but with Dream as the project instead. And in honor of angst day sponsored by @sixteenth-day-event, I figured I’d share it because I feel like it kinda works for the prison of the mind prompt.

“Sam’s “ultimate engineering project” he deemed too damaged like a bumpy road or crumbling building that wasn’t worthy of patching and filling in the cracks or reinforcing, that’s too eroded to be fixed and preserved. So, Sam strived to tear him down to the bedrock so he could remake, remold, and reengineer Dream according to his design for the common safety, public health and well-fair.”

{These are very similar to the actual sheets I make day to day, which I shall not share for the sake of doxing my location, but yea pretty much everything has a significance. Some of it doesn’t necessarily make sense but that was because I was more so taking inventory of what we see in lore (so you know I counted ;) lol)}

[flutesolo]

zukki literally has so much potential as a ship it drives me insane. you have THEE firelord, exhausted from delegation and navigating a political field so resistant to change and dodging assassination attempts (probably also moonlighting as a vigilante). you have the very intense leader of a clan of insanely trained warriors, who after years of war, would probably take zuko’s safety so seriously. i’m not saying the kyoshi warriors should become zuko’s personal guard. but. and then we have the most politically powerful person in any room he walks in. just hanging out and playing ambassador. like this shit writes itself. why isn’t zukki more popular.

[froggydraws]

Filling out the Pokédex 📝

[risustravelogue]

Marks On You

Summary:

What would you get when you get frisky with your husband, the Duke of Meropide, throughout the day? You get bent over his desk, that's what.

Featuring:

Dom!Husband!Wriothesley, Sub!fem!Reader

Tags:

Smut. Filth. You have been warned. He basically manhandles you while you're being handcuffed. Marking, biting, breeding. Sweet aftercare 💕

Note:

I wrote this throughout the week and thought it would lie there unfinished like my bookshelf sex Alhaitham smut (hehe yes) but I suddenly had an inspiration for the opening line. ... I am so down bad for this man.

🔗 AO3 | masterlist 🔗

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky.

You’d tease him and he’d tease back; you’d steal pecks and kisses whenever you pass each other throughout the day, to his delight and amusement; and your hands would always find their way to his body—touching first innocently, then it gets increasingly not-so-innocent as the hours pass by.

Wriothesley loves it when you’re feeling frisky, because it means you’ll submit completely to his carnal whims once he gets his hands on you.

And as your most beloved husband, what better reward can he get?

Such is today, when you find yourself pinned under him, all compliant and obedient and taking him so well even though it’s barely past work hours. You lay face down at the edge of his desk with your wrists cuffed behind your back, helplessly squirming as his hips slam against yours from behind. The way his length slides partly out of your hole, only for the tip to churn your insides again as his balls slap against your slick-coated clit, elicit sinful whimpers out of you. His moans are raspy, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips to hold you steady as he pounds you into submission.

“Good girl… I’ve marked you with my cum twice already, but…”

He growls beside your ear with a dangerously low voice as his fingers start playing with your sensitive bud.

“Too bad for you, it only makes me want to fuck you more.”

The sounds of both of your and his moans and wet slaps of skin echo across his office room while he thrusts into you again, again, and again, your mind going blank from the overstimulation. You try to sync your breathing with his movements to no avail, only blurting out a “Ngh– more– m-more–” as he fucks you senseless. You whine as you feel a sting on your butt from his palm meeting your ass.

“Louder,” he says. You feel his grip on your hips tighten as he pulls you into him even more.

“Ah– ah– fuck– N-no– I can’t–”

“Beg louder, I said!” he orders. He bites the side of your neck as he slams his hips hard into you.

A loud moan escapes your throat without restraint. Someone outside must’ve heard your voice, but you don’t care anymore—his cock feels too damn good.

“Breed me!” you scream. “Please– I want you to breed me–”

Wriothesley chuckles and sucks on your earlobe, sending shivers rippling through your skin.

“Good,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”

He moves his hips faster. His thrusts become more frantic as he nears the height of his ecstasy.

“Cum with me, cum with– ngh!”

His hands squeeze at your hips and his teeth sink into the skin of your nape as he reaches his climax, shooting his thick, hot cum into you yet again. You shudder and whimper as you feel pleasure overloading your senses, the addictive sensation blurring your vision into blissful oblivion. You can barely hear the clicking sounds as your husband takes the handcuffs off your wrists, whining when he slides out of you while peppering your back with gentle kisses. The duality of his actions makes you dizzy with affection.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he shushes as he turns you around. He plants a kiss on your lips, then your forehead while he gathers your limp body into his arms. He carries you to the sofa and places your head on his chest as he reclines. His hand pulls you in, pressing your cheek against his bare skin. He kisses the crown of your head while his fingers absentmindedly play with your hair.

That’s when he notices that there are some small bruises forming on your skin, mostly on your nape and the side of your neck. A pang of guilt shoots through his chest, and he feels his heartbeat becoming just a little bit erratic at the thought of hurting you.

“Was I too rough?” he asks with a quiet voice, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“No,” you hum, unaware of the calming feeling your answer has on him. “I enjoyed every second of it.”

You plant a kiss on his flushed cheek, then nuzzle up against his neck.

“I love you,” you whisper, “I love you so much, you know that?”

Wriothesley feels his heart flutter. He buries his face in your hair, taking in your scent.

“I do,” he mumbles. “And I love you, too.”

© @risustravelogue 2023 • no to reposting, yes to reblogging. feel free to send an ask to suggest, chat, etc. :)

the gorgeous mdni banner template by @/cafekitsune 💙

[shivunin]

the fact that you start the Tabris origin by literally stepping into your mother's shoes. the fact that what you get is a wedding outfit and your mother's worn boots, kept carefully intact for years, tucked away for this exact moment. the fact that you then immediately take the path she never could, leaving behind the alienage and the wedding and following Duncan (who would have recruited Adaia first, if not for baby!Tabris) to what ought to have been death.

And Then!! instead of fighting and falling as she did, cheating death and becoming the fighter she always intended you to be instead??? Reliving and simultaneously subverting the story of her life??

[full---ofstarlight]

Look at her -- I would die for her. I would kill for her. Either way -- what bliss.

-

A Celeste and Zevran commission from @geezmarty !! Look at these dorks in love hehe

[cilant-lis]

Ame amin Halai lothi amin Noamin Ame amin Halai lothi amin Noamin Heruamin

started off as trying to imitate the style of da covers, but i went a little overboard ha

[were-changing-cake-vaults]

I feel like more people should be talking about RTGame’s Minecraft series. Like, seriously. Amongst all the hustle and bustle of Hermitcraft and the angst of the QSMP and whatever else is going on, it’s really refreshing to just watch a man play Minecraft. No story, no lore, no end goal, just rediscovering a game he walked away from years ago.

It feels like watching your baby cousin play Minecraft for the first time, waiting for what Skizzleman calls The Click- the moment when you realize just how much potential this game has. We’ve all had that Click, but you’re excited to see what makes said metaphorical cousin really understand what Minecraft can do. It’s that experience, just with a 29 year old man who is so full of wonder and determination.

Also, it’s just really fucking funny? Like as much as it is a heartfelt and refreshing perspective on Minecraft, it’s also a series he’s running on Twitch, so he’s gotta crack jokes. And RT is very very very funny. Man has a level of audacity that just makes you laugh in shock. He laughs at danger. He works off of spite. His chat goes along with it, builds off his antics. He jokes about Minecraft Diamonds and refuses to be normal about it it’s great.

Anyways: watch RT’s Minecraft series, and while you’re at it, watch RTGame bc Yeah :3

[writing-time-bitches]

When Ingo returns to Unova after Hisui, Emmet and Elesa are going to have CONSTRAIN the man from punching any wild pokemon that so much as walks ten inches next to them. He is not afraid. He will fight a druddigon if it so much looks at him wrong.

He will out right CLOCK pokemon. He doesnt know fear anymore. He will throw hands.

[soscarlett1twas]

Dress To Impress

↳ Elias and Jonah play Dress To Impress ↳ 419 words

“Where is the sleep mask?”

“Man, I don’t know, it got moved around with the update—“

“The theme is sleepwear, I need the mask—“

“Do you sleep with a mask?”

“No but it’s about the implications, Elias.”

Jonah said, rechecking the mannequin the mask used to be on and, sure enough, it was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe you should.” The other’s voice lifted through the headset. “Isn’t it midnight over there? Get some sleep dude.”

“Nah.”

And so they kept playing.

It was a bit at first. The Roblox game had a sudden boost in popularity and Jonah, always ready to follow the trends of his fellow streamers, suggested to Elias they play it beforehand to get a feel.

That was two weeks ago. The stream had come and gone but they kept playing, often well into the night. Neither expected it to be so addictive. Nor to get so invested.

As the timer ticked down slowly, Jonah relaxed a bit, accepting that the outfit was complete — sleep mask or not.

That calm immediately fell when the runway music started and he was on first.

Elias cackled as he heard the clicks of a madman — Jonah’s mouse, already obnoxiously loud due to it being right next to his mic, whipped through about eight different poses before his avatar was off the runway.

“Bit slow on the draw there,” he said as the character launched into the infamous pose 12 and Jonah failed to recover in time.

“Shush.”

The rest of the runway went in standard fashion. Elias was a bit more graceful with the posing, using strictly animated ones and with moments to breathe between them.

Which may have been the reason he landed second place.

‘Ty!’ Elias typed in chat — a common courtesy — while Jonah took off all his items to prepare for next round.

“Maybe you would have gotten podium if you had your sleep mask.”

Jonah laughed. “Maybe.”

“You really should go to sleep.”

“After this round.”

Elias huffed. “You’re addicted.”

“You’re the one who bought VIP!”

Elias’ webcam betrayed his humorously guilty look.

A moment after the intermission’s time ran up and the new theme was announced.

“Renaissance?” They read together.

Jonah immediately turned to his other monitor and typed in “renessaince dress to impress,” scrolling through the images tab and analyzing their outfits.

“This is a harder theme…” Jonah muttered. The game was dominated by modern clothing. How was he supposed to replicate the Renaissance era? “Elias?”

“…I’m dressing as Beyoncé.”