REAPER | @de-los-muertos​

Unusually careless, his posture - slumped into a straight-backed chair, the kind of ornate feature it must have taken the pay-out of several life insurance policies to afford. He’s been drinking, extensively too from the fragrant stink of fine bourbon that honeys the air. Empty eyes lost in the haze of a bitter oxford fog stare into the unfocused distance, his lips toying with the bullet of the word, behind a grimace like a loaded gun. “Redemption.” A single husky grunt - laughter - steeped in bitterness. “Everyone seeks redemption. Even you-” The grin spreads like a disease at that all-too-familiar sound of the apparitions approach. “But what good - really - can redemption do? Can it erase the things you’ve done? Do you truly expect it will save you from the horror you’ve become?”

REAPER| @basadoir

The glower he favors the report on his desk with is positively scathing, tongue clicking behind the mask of an otherwise (barely conceived) genial mien. “Dear me, another failure. It’s almost as though you enjoy being a disappointment.” He affixes the cloaked entity with  acidic eyes that have been known on more than one occasion to eat right through composure of men. “Perhaps you lack the proper....motivation.” “Go on - tell me - have I not been creative enough with my punishments? ”

Someone said I should reboot Nick and I have had just enough cough syrup to agree. Anyone who’s interested in playing with the director of Talon (a terrible idea really, he’s not a very nice man), do feel free to pop into my IMs or asks, or simply like this post for a starter. Otherwise, I’ll be accosting the usual suspects momentarily.

Nick plays the long game and all he’s got is time.

Nine times out of ten if you come into my IMs and headcanon with me, muse will take that headcanon, consider it, tuck it away in a file in his desk, steeple his fingers, and let it ferment in the cellar of his mind for a bit like a fine wine. And then, at just the right moment, somewhere months down the line, you’ll go to say something to him, and he’ll smile that slow, sanguine smile of his, reach into the drawer, pull out the file and-

forfalskad said: [Watch out, taija, yo, don’t be a hero]

“There, you see? This man gets it.”