never a DULL moment ... !!!
est. 2020 | ⓒ & ⓒ
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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almost home

if i look back, i am lost

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@revengedhowe
never a DULL moment ... !!!
est. 2020 | ⓒ & ⓒ
“for once in your goddamn life, let me take care of you before you make it worse.” - @thedosiian
nathaniel shouldn't be surprised, really, that damon gets fed up with him and his insistence that he was alright; the warden shouldn't be so worried, not about a disgraceful excuse of a rogue that he typically turned out to be.
nathaniel wasn't worried, not about himself, or his wounds that seemed to be making damon so upset. he shrugged the warden off countless times, insisting that he could save the bandages for worse wounds later on and that he'd be okay.
being snapped at always made him pause, though. he frowns, turning partly to look at the elven warden.
he opens his mouth, just for a second, before closing it again and sighing. instead, he doesn't say a single thing, and simply gestures for damon to continue attempting to patch him up.
[ alone ] for one muse to find the other trying to treat themselves - @fadedancer
the quiet, eerie setting of kirkwall at night almost reminded nathaniel of home; of course, there were much more bandits at night, all of whom seem to have been splayed and bleeding for anyone wishing to follow in their paths to cross along the obvious warning.
nathaniel almost feels bad for whoever is forced to clean those up, but he’s more so on the hunt for whoever seemed to have cause the damage; following after speckles of blood and the dragged scrapes of a sword leads him into a more than shady alley.
there’s an elf, somewhere along the back, looking like he’s attempting to patch himself up.
nathaniel frowns, surely an elf couldn’t have caused that much damage? he looks behind himself before focusing on the warrior once more.
“do you need assistance?” he asks, moving a hand to set on his bow, just in case, “i’m not a bandit. grey warden, actually,” he lifts his hand to tap the crest on his armour, but he doesn’t move further.
he would prefer to not join the pile of murdered bandits outside, please and thank you.
waaaa I have work today :(
📂
📂 : NATHANIEL doesn’t cut his hair after the events of Awakening.
instead, he grows it out long enough to wrap up into a bun — he actually begins to wear it half up and down like such, and only entirely puts it up for battles.
Send “📂“ for a random yet completely useless headcanon I have
“if i die, i’m gonna haunt your ass.”
- @threads-of-destiny / anders
nathaniel could have expected such a remark, but as he patches up anders, he’s not so much amused as much as he’s annoyed; his eyes narrow, focusing on gash over anders stomach that he’s currently attempting to bandage.
“you’re not going to die,” nathaniel says, with a bit more stress than he might have intended. “i just need these to hold and stop the bleeding, but you’re not . . . you’re not going to die,”
it’s odd, seeing him almost panicked over anders’ state of self; it’s as if he actually somewhat cares about the mage that does nothing but endlessly annoy him. he grits his teeth, black hair falling over his face, almost obscuring his vision. he only bats it away when he needs to, focused on the gash.
“we’ll need stitches,” he decides, pulling his satchel to practically toss at anders face. “or, you’ll need stitches.”
he leans in, opening the bag and pulling out a thread and needle. “how convenient is it that you’re unable to use any of those healing spells on yourself,” he grumbles, “when we truly need it.”
“stop being such a baby and let me finish cleaning you up.” - @traevelyan
nathan isn't too happy; being snuck up on in the middle of a battle and getting a rather large slice through his back was a genuine first in his grey warden career. and being saved by the inquisitor herself, a true saviour at the time, was embarrassing for the rogue — one strike for being caught off guard.
another for just needing a saviour in general, really.
"i'm sure it'll be fine," he attempts, despite the feeling of his blood soaked back and the fabric being peeled off. his armour stripped off and set aside, he could see the blood poured over the inner metal portions, and mentally cringes at that.
his armour had been getting worn down over time, so it was no surprise it finally broke within a simple stab with a sword.
"inquisitor, please. a simple bandage would do fine."
injury/hurt prompts bc reasons
feel free to specify who is receiving the actions [ sew ] for one muse to have to stitch up the other [ fix ] for one muse to mend a dislocated joint [ alone ] for one muse to find the other trying to treat themselves [ drugged ] for one muse to take care of the other while they’re delirious [ bullet ] for one muse to help the other after they get shot [ lacerate ] for one muse to get stabbed while protecting/working with the other [ broken ] for one muse to have broken a bone(s) [ scream ] for one muse to wake up because the other is having a nightmare [ comfort ] for one muse to stay the night with the other after a hard day [ wake ] for one muse to wake up to the other at the side of their hospital bed [ sleep ] for one muse to sit by while the other is unconscious in a hospital [ nurse ] for one muse to take care of the other while they’re sick [ appear ] for one muse to show up at the other’s doorstep injured
“ just let me help you. ” “ shut the fuck up and sit down. you’re bleeding. ” “ it’s fine— nothing i haven’t dealt with before. ” “ hey, you can talk to me. ” “ shh- lie back. you’re safe now. ” “ you need to stay still. ” “ how the hell did this happen? ” “ are you sure you’re okay? ” “ that isn’t ‘just a scratch’. ” “ stop being such a baby and let me finish cleaning you up. ” “ i need you to stay awake for me okay? keep your eyes open. ” “ if you die on me i’ll bring you back to life and kill you myself. ” “ for once in your goddamn life, let me take care of you before you make it worse. ” “ you’re hurt because of me. the least i can do is fix it. ” “ i’ll be okay. i promise. ” “ a little help? ” “ i just need a few stitches and i can’t exactly reach. ” “ i’m fine, i just need a moment. ” “ no hospitals. ” “ you need a fucking doctor. ” “ you need to slow down. ” “ you’ll be no help to anyone if you run yourself into the ground. ” “ you have to sleep eventually. ” “ stop fussing, i’ll be fine. ” “ shit, okay fuck that actually really fucking hurts. ” “ i’m scared. ” “ i feel so cold. ” “ i can’t feel my legs. ” “ i don’t…i don’t wanna go yet. ” “ what the fuck happened to you? ” “ who the fuck did this? ” “ you’re clearly not okay so stop bullshitting me. ” “ fucking hell. ” “ i need help. please. ” “ i swear to god i’ll kill whatever bastard did this. ” “ if i die, i’m gonna haunt your ass. ” “ it’s not that bad, chill the fuck out. ”
☃️ sitting in the snow . . . with @thedosiian
nathaniel’s found himself used to all types of weather, but snow was always interesting to him; throughout the changing of the seasons, he always found fall to be his favourite. the leaves and their never-settling colours, the crack of twigs and branches beneath his feet, the fresh breezes through his hair. it was all so preferable, much nicer than the disgusting heat that summer brought, or the endless rain that spring supplied.
but the snow was peaceful, and he found himself almost envious that damon could embrace it in such a way.
“when i was a child,” he began, watching the heavy snowfall begin to cover their tracks, “i remember sneaking out during the days where the snow was heavy, such as this. my father would typically be absent with work, so my siblings and i were left to be with the servants of the house or my mother. they turned a blind eye, seeing me sneak around.”
the briefest hints of a smile tug at his lips, and he sets both hands down in the snow, pressing down until he feels the solid ground of the frozen green hills they sat on. “there was one night where the snow turned into a blizzard. i wasn’t sure what to do. truth be told, it was so heavy i couldn’t even find my way home. i don’t even know how long it’d taken for my father to realize i was missing.”
he looks down, with a heavy sigh escaping him. “after all, the servants were afraid of his wrath. too worried of being fired than the outcome of a boy being frozen in the snow.”
he pauses after a moment, and turns his head to look at damon. everything about the elven man seemed to contrast the snow, though both delicate in nature. “silly, i suppose. did it snow much in the alienage?”
nathaniel pursed his lips at the response, and damon’s reaction to his impromptu decision to flop in the snow; he looks at the elf for a brief, concerned moment as he draws closer, but makes no attempts to stop him from pulling pieces of melting snow from his hair and skin.
he doesn’t reply verbally at first, instead propping himself up while a small grin crosses his lips; rare but genuine, at least at the moment. “i don’t believe i’ve gotten sick in years. i did get a rather nasty cold after that night, however. some hot cocoa helped.”
he sits up entirely and gets to his feet a moment later, beginning to shake the snow from himself with a bare shudder. “alright, perhaps that is more than enough snow for the day ... i’m starting to relive something,” he looks down at damon, raising his eyebrows. “would you like to go inside? truthfully, i do not wish to be blamed for getting our precious hero of ferelden sick.”
@revengedhowe ⸺ ( 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥. )
⸺ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅 according to the seneschal. it took four men to actually capture and subdue him, so she didn’t really know what to make of him. it was HER decision, although. that alone was enough to induce some anxiety, since she wasn’t the person to be in charge of anyone’s fate. criminal or no.
❝ so. ❞ she stood there, watching him behind the bars of the keep’s dungeon. ❝ are you going to tell me who you are and what you were looking for? ❞ she’d rather KNOW who she was about to execute (or not) and why. she wasn’t attached to anything in that keep.
the wonderful, adored hero of ferelden — a figure he hadn’t seen in years, thought dead, and didn’t care less about after the run in she had with his father. nathaniel finds himself scowling, on his feet in the prison cell, but he’s as good as kneeling with his fate resting in her hands.
turned partly away, he finds the wall much more interesting than the warden now. to face the woman who murdered his father, after hunting her down, for so long, and not even being able to AVENGE him . . .
“colour me surprised,” he begins, bitter, “that the fabled hero of ferelden forgets the howe who once sat with her at the children’s table when no one else would.”
in reality, he shouldn’t be upset. he came here to kill her, and she doesn’t even know who he is. “i was simply in search of some . . . family heirlooms,” he turns his head to look at her, the scowl permanent, “since the wardens seem to have taken my family home for themselves.”
I had 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, I was in them. I was looking into the mirror…
To see a little bit ᴄʟᴇᴀʀᴇʀ The rottenness and evil in me.
ill try replying to everything today. some drama is ensuing in my personal life so that’s my main priority rn. ever had to literally go fight a school board? :p
I’m not sick But I’m 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡.
And I’m so 𝙝𝙤𝙩 ‘Cause I’m in Hell.
covered in blood for sexy reasons
also i just got stabbed
dont suppose theres anyone here willing to tenderly clean, stitch and bandage my wounds while calling me an idiot in a exasperatedly fond tone of voice is there
Inktober 2019 - Day 19 - Sling
“Whether with sling or bow, I’ve never seen your lad miss a target. He has the gift of aim, that much is certain - purest I’ve ever seen! My boys pester him for advice every moment they’re together. You must be proud of him.”
A letter from Teyrn Bryce Cousland to Arl Rendon Howe, circa 9:17 Dragon
sometimes i think about making a blog for tamlen, with verses in which he survived or became the warden, or became a companion, and just... shed a tear...