#butchers-boy

[hammered-time]

butchers-boy liked your photo:miss-accacia27: Jeffrey Dean Morgan ♥

Like what you see, sailor?

[hammered-time]

37

One of our muses is a mythical creature (Vampire, Werewolf, etc) The other is a hunter — and this is not a love story.

Gamlen’s breath swept in barely visible puffs from his lips. The metal of the pistol in his grasp was cool in the late autumn night’s air.

The veil had been lifted and he was seeing monsters everywhere. He himself had remained a mere man, but somehow, a global trigger had been pulled, causing many to become…more. How many people he knew, he wondered, were truly what they claimed to be anymore? Despite having never harbored fond feelings for Nathaniel, he had been reluctant to believe that he was now one of the…things. He’d fought vampires, weresolves, shapeshifters all in the course of six months. He didn’t know exactly what Howe Jr. was, but Elissa had gone to see her ex the day before and had neither returned home nor called him to explain why.

And rumor had it that others had vanished behind Howe’s door as well.

Gamlen lifted a hand, hesitating only briefly before trying the doorknob into the townhouse. The front entryway was dark, but a light from an open second-story doorway bathed the stairs in enough diffuzed glow to climb them.

The last time he’d gone up those steps with a weapon in his hand, he and Nathaniel had been clearing his place of “exterminators” side by side.

Crossing one foot carefully over another, Amell snuck down toward the door, listening. He could hear breathing. Rustling.

Gripping his revolver, Gamlen slid around the doorway enough, ready to shoot.

He found ten or fifteen people, at least half of whom he knew personally, tied up inside the large empty room. Some were on what looked like Nathaniel’s kitchen chairs, while others were on piles of pillows or blankets on the floor. Elisa was sitting on Gamlen’s oldest nephew, Garrett Hawke, who was asleep. Those who weren’t sleeping—such as his wife—stared at him wide-eyed before starting to shake their heads.

"Gamlen! No! Get out of here!" Elissa hissed insistently.

"Like hell that’s happening," he snarled, crossing to where she was and immediately making to untie her, but she leaned away.

"I’ll be fine. Don’t untie me. Please. Just go. Nathaniel is—"

"I can handle Nathaniel," he bit back.

She opened her mouth to earnestly argue another time, but when her eyes glanced away from him toward the doorway they stayed there. He felt every gaze in the room move off of him and to a space behind him where undoubtedly the monster had returned.

The looks on their faces were, however, not those of fear. Elissa’s eyelids had partially lowered and a smirk had taken her lips, a breathy hum pushing from her nose.

Gamlen knew that look.

Appalled, he turned around to stare at their captor, gun in hand. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing to them, but it’s over, Big Bird.”

Gamlen’s navy gaze knit into Nathaniel’s which was…silverier than he recalled it being. Almost liquid, like mercury. At first he thought he’d been rendered incapable of looking away from the Fereldan’s eyes, but before he knew it his own gaze was sliding elsewhere on the man’s body.  Everywhere else, in fact.  The way the younger man’s hard muscles pressed visibly against his clothing when he moved and breathed was hypnotizing.

"Give me the gun, Amell," Nathaniel sighed, holding his hand out. He seemed exhausted. Out of the corner of his eye, Gamlen glimpsed the manager of the nearby Quickneeds licking her lips, and he found himself doing the same.

"Oh," he sighed, his own voice having dropped low. "I’ll give you a gun, Howe. I’ll even teach you to use it."

His quarry groaned amidst chuckles and words of concurrence from the other conscious parties in the room, bringing a hand up to rub from forhehead to chin, those gorgeous, arresting silver eyes fixing to the ceiling. The line of his jaw and neck and adam’s apple were lit perfectly at that angle. Gamlen’s blood hammered anxiously in both his heart and his loins.

Rather than place the pistol their host had requested in is outstretched hand, Gamlen stepped forward, grasping the adonis by the wrist and instead pushed his palm against his own crotch.

Nathaniel cursed and drew his hand back as though burned, looking immediately ill. “That is the last thing I ever wanted to feel!” he barked, his voice sharp and commanding enough to send a shiver of arousal up Amell’s spine, escaping his mouth in a heavy, breathy laugh.

"Was it?" he hissed, closing the distance between them by what felt like a force of gravity, his hands actually trembling in nervous desire before pressing onto the other’s firm, flat chest and finding it far more perfect than he’d ever imagined. "Well now you’ve felt it…your life is complete. And I’ll make sure you never need to feel anything else again."

Nathaniel’s muscles were so tense he may have simply flown apart at any moment. Gamlen felt the gun leave his grip and with a sly grin dropped his hand to seek out a far more elusive weapon—

Pain cracked through his consciousness, then blackness.

When he woke, it was still dark out. He was tied up beside Elissa. He could hear someone—assumedly Nathanie—stalking around in the hall muttering under his breath. Gamlen was sure he heard the words “need control” and “chemical shower” clearly a couple of times.

His eyes slid to meet hers. She stared back at him, looking extremely annoyed.

"Did I put my cock in his—"

"Yes."

"…I couldn’t control—"

She gave him a silencing look of finality. “I know. I took my top off.”

Gamlen couldn’t help but smirk despite the narrowed eyes his wife gave him, and saw her own lips twitching upward despite her efforts to the contary.

[a-song-in-the-night]

Secret Santa!

For Nathaniel

***

Nathaniel

Please forgive this intrusion onto your day, I know you are a very busy man, but if you have a moment, and as it’s Satinalia, I have a story I’d like to tell you.

It’s my favorite kind of story, heroic, sweeping, very sad at times, but in the end it is the story of how one man changed the world.

In years gone by, when Ferelden was held captive by the cruel might of Orlais and Maric was just a motherless young man wandering the wilderness, there was a young Arl.

This man hand’t expected to be Arl, his harder, colder brother ruled and had thrown his lot in with Orlais, an long with his very great might and many resources. But, as so often happens, even his large wealth could not save him and he was killed, leaving his younger brother to managed what was left of his empire.

The new Arl had a choice then, he could have followed in his brother’s footsteps, ignored the suffering all around him and seen only his own profit; he could have hidden himself and his remaining family away to keep them safe and turned a deaf ear to those who needed him. He did not.

He joined Maric, putting everything he held most dear in peril. He sheltered the rebel army, fed and clothed them and provided them with the tactical information they needed. And in the end he gave his very life in the service of his King. Had he not stepped forward it is likely Maric and Logain would have failed. He was a hero who was instrumental in the freedom of his people.

The enclosed pendant is the crest of his house, though I expect you knew that before you even started reading, because you know this story better than most. Because Byron Howe was your great uncle.

You’re probably rolling your eyes right now, but hear me out. I found this amulet at a market stall a few weeks ago, it’s old, it likely outstrips Byron’s story by 50, maybe even 100 years. I thought you should have it because I think it’s important for you to remember all the Howes who have gone before you. You are not defined by them, or anyone, but they are the foundation on which you stand.

My dear Nathaniel, there is such greatness in you, it burns in your blood, whether you want it there it not. It cannot be stolen from you, not by your father, not by the cruelties of life, not even by your own mistakes. Don’t give in to the lies that would say otherwise.

Goodness, this is more than I meant to write. I’m sorry if you feel I’ve been presumptuous, I just, I get theses feelings about things sometimes…and I’ve learned to trust them.

I don’t know if I’ll ever have the chance to say any of this to your face, but I mean every word with all my heart. There is glorious beauty out there for you. Don’t give up on it.

Happy Satinalia,

Leliana

[a-song-in-the-night]

Les Pecheurs De Perles {Nathanial and Leliana}

It was one of her favorite Operas.  The famous duet between the two male leads never failed to move her no matter how many times she heard it.  The music seemed to invade her entire being, lifting her soul and carrying it along on the journey of the two friends, torn apart by love and desire and loyalty.  She sat back in her seat a listened, not bothering to check the tears that slid quietly down her face. 

As the movement ended and the house erupted into applause there was a small movement to her left and a pristine handkerchief presented itself before her.  Perplexed, her gaze followed the arm it was attached to and met the eyes of a darkly handsome man seated next to her.  It was a kind gesture, and it surprised her a little.  She wasn't used to huge amounts of kindness here in Kirkwall.

"Here." He said, under the cover of the noise around them, "You need it more than I do."  With a little laugh she accepted his offer and blotted at her red eyes.

"Thanks." She whispered.  "I should have known better, I always--" Before she could finish the applause died away and she could only smile gratefully in his direction before turning her attention back to the stage.  As the lights for the intermission came up she turned to continue her thanks to the stranger beside her, but to her dismay she found him gone, slipped away without her noticing.  She wandered out into the lobby, hopping to catch him there and had no luck.  At the chime of the bells she returned to her seat, but he never returned.  She found herself oddly disappointing as the performers on stage took their final bows and still her mystery friend hand not reappeared.  With a little sigh she folded the handkerchief and slipped it into her purse then stood and made her way out towards the exit.  She was half way down the stairs when she saw him.  He was just getting off the phone and had an unreadable expression on his face.  She should probably have let him be, but something in the slightly dejected slant of his shoulders made her want to be kind to him too.  Hurrying down the stairs she caught him just as he was turning to go. 

"Thanks again."  She said, producing the little white square and giving it a little wave.  "I'd offer to give it back but you probably don't want it now." Laughing and blushing at the same time over her likely inappropriate comment she went on "I'd be happy return it clean and pressed if you'll tell me where to send it."

[thriveintheashes]

Unexpected Cavalry || Nathaniel & Keita

There was a mage. 

How did the Creator-damned darkspawn have a mage? They were infected! Animalistic! Idiotic! Sick! And yet they did bloody magic! Keita dodged another curse and spat a few choice insults towards the direction it had come from. Most of her little missions were magic free and simple violence. A few stabs, occasionally some hand to hand, maybe throw in an explosive or two... simple. But not with mages. No, mages had to damned difficult to get anywhere near within range to kill properly, especially when surrounded by more active fighters.It was times like that where Keita understood why Duncan was so incessant in his asking that she joined a proper patrol or brought backup.

Technically speaking, she had brought at least one with her for reinforcements- Elgar'mi was on standby, waiting for her signal. But they both understood the Taint of the meat, the infection that Elgar'mi would likely ingest if he attempted to help. So he was extreme backup- and if you asked Keita herself, she considered him to be her messenger. If she died, he was supposed to find Duncan and Elissa. They were the most likely to understand what his presence signified. Their preferred option, however, was for Elgar'mi to simply try and drag her away from the combat. Dangerous for him, yes, but it was the primary plan and hope. Neither wolf nor elvhen mentioned how likely that particular possibility would be.

But, for the moment, Keita remained able to move without restriction and deemed herself not in danger of dying yet. Though she hadn't quite examined herself to the extent of knowing just how much blood was hers. That could wait, considering that if she stopped moving, she'd probably get hit with one of the curses flying around. 

Forced back a step by the genlock she was currently facing, Keita's foot slid out from under her with the patch of ice, causing a whole new flurry of Dalish swear words. "Ice, yes, very original! Ar tu na'din, you ass!" Landing on her ass during a fight wasn't the most graceful of things Keita had done lately, but at least it allowed her to hamstring the current bastard while she was down there. 

Which, of course, because her luck was just blessed by the Dread Wolf that day, caused the thing to land on her legs. Making the impending attack of the hurlock nearby much, much more threatening than it had looked only a moment ago. 

Well. It seemed that Elgar'mi would have to go into Kirkwall after all. "Andruil help me." She needed a plan. A good plan. A better plan than waiting until the hurlock came close enough to stab a dagger into his foot. 

Keita sighed and tried to look helpless, annoyed at having to wait. 

[womenaregoodforsix]

Send ⁇ for a drunk text Send ø for a late night text

Send ⁇ for a drunk text

e isstaying over tnjight my bned more comfyyyyyyyy

Send ø for a late night text

u r the reason she is missing a great night 2night with all of us, congrats on being the grinch thx

[temptationinallthings]

Old Friends, New Places [Nathaniel & Neria]

“Look I don’t give a witch’s tit how much you dislike me or my business. Your inability to maintain customers is not my fault or problem.” Neria stepped closer, seemingly undaunted by the fact that she was facing off with a rotund man that stood almost a foot above her. “You mess with my shop, or try to damage my gardens again, and I swear you’ll wish I’d just contacted the authorities. Do you understand?”

“Knife-eared Ferelden bitch. You better watch who you’re talkin’ to. I’ve got friends. Powerful friends.”

Neria snorted, taking a step back. “With your product and service?” She shook her head, drawing the messenger bag she normally traveled with higher on her shoulder. “You won’t have them for long, and those that you keep…well I rather doubt they’ll be anything I need concern myself with.” She eyed a limp bundle of herbs that were half-dried and had obviously been shipped and snorted. “Stay away from my shop.” She reiterated, before turning and stalking out of the dingy little shop.

Stepping out into the cooling air of the streets of high town, Neria gazed around, noting the darkening twilight skies before she started back for Lowtown. She was so busy ticking through her list of errands as she walked that she didn’t see the man that had stepped out of his home until it was almost too late. Halting herself quickly, she pressed a hand to her throat and laughed softly. “My apologies Serah.” She murmured, barely offering him a glance.

She wasn’t entirely sure what made her look at him again, but she was glad for the motion when she recognized his face. “Nate!” When he didn’t look at her, she started to open her mouth to say something more, eagerness washing through her, at least until she recalled that unlike Ander’s there was no guarantee that this man would keep her secrets. They’d spoken at length in Amaranthine, but she’d been a warden, and sanctioned outside of the circle.

Circumstances had changed a great deal since then. Ducking her head, she told herself to just keep going and not acknowledge the moment, but she couldn’t quite stop herself from turning to watch him go. Shaking her head she finally turned to bustle off, telling herself fit was best not to call his attention only to smash into an unexpected wall.

She bounced back, hitting the ground with a soft grunt. “I’m sorry, I-” She didn’t get to finish as the man she’d stumbled into sneered an angry ‘dirty knife-ear’ and spat at her. 

[elissaromildecousland]

Handballin' - [Elissa, Garrett and Nathaniel]

"Handball? Really?" Elissa trailed behind Garrett down the stairs of the Kirkwall Municipal Arena. Many called it the "jewel of Lowtown", though Elissa would argue that title more accurately belonged to The Hanged Man, but she supposed it did make it's impact on the parts of the city that fell beneath the shadow of the plate --especially when a massively popular event like handball came to town.

If she was honest, Elissa hadn't known that handball was a sport until Garrett mentioned it, and even then she'd doubted he was doing anything more than setting her up to be the butt of some uncomfortably sexual joke. Handball didn't sound like a sport. It sounded like something that men with unfortunate fungal conditions did in the shower. But as they drifted lower into the half-shell of Colosseum style seats where she could make out the long, grey, alley-like courts straight ahead of them, she had no choice but to give it validation. 

"You got these tickets from Gamlen?" She asked, again, part of her brain equally as boggled that Gamlen would have them as it was that Garrett would want them or that it was a sport to begin with. "Oh beer!" She stopped the passing vendor with the polite raise of her hand, retrieving and extending the proper amount of coin to acquire two beverages, one of which she handed over to Garrett as he led them the rest of the way to their seats. "Is there food?"