#Nathan Stiff

[mendelsohnben]

Jack Robinson Perching™ 

[red-balloon12]

I FINALLY finished my redesigns (probably final idk) for my Magical Girl!AU of Natemare and Phantom. I’m not sure when I’ll start working one the story but at least you know what they (mostly) look like. I’ll be making a full scale version of the redesigns….soon. And if anyone wants to redraw this and add their own little spin to it, be my guest!

[ch1maeras]

@myriaed // @calibns

ADAM DRIVER | GIRLS 4.06

[beezified]

"Nathan," you say.

Yes?" he replies after a moment

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises.

You try to respond… but you can't. Your limbs feel stiff and heavy, your tongue like lead.

The sun is rising.

You don't fight it. You close your eyes, take one last deep breath… and die.

Um... So this is what I would imagine the scene goes for me, art block is trying to get me that's why the art look weird and no effort (I'm sorry :[ I tried my best)

Anyhow, scene and Nathan character was originally from Thicker Than IF made by lovely @barbwritesstuff (check out their stuff!!)

[tokiwarcube]

How are the boys when their s/o is away on a trip for a while? Like which ones call constantly? Which ones are calm? Any have separation anxiety?

This was fun to think about, and very well timed! +Charles as well -- Enjoy! <3

Charles Foster Offdensen

Have fun for him, won’t you? Charles will absolutely miss you while you’re gone — with the lives you share, you don’t always have too much time to spend together, not to say that he won’t miss the time you do get — but he’s happy that you’ll be having a good time. His biggest worry is about your safety, but that’s nothing a few Klokateers can’t fix.

He looks forward to your nightly phone call more than ever — after a long day of running around, his steady voice is so nice to listen to. And you know, it’s funny — he’s already less stiff around you, but over the phone, he’s a little more willing to just be a bit silly. Especially as time goes on. Maybe it’s because of the distance that comes with a call. Maybe he just misses you.

And he’d be lying if he didn’t pay just a little bit more attention to the vibration of his phone, just in case you send him a text or a photo. He might not respond immediately, but he does look forward to hearing from you.

He does find himself thinking of you often — certain colors, trinkets, your interests… he’ll text you about them every now and then, just to let you know you’re in his thoughts.

Please send him a postcard or two, if you’re able. He likes physical items like that, especially if you scrawl a little note on the back.

10/10, he’ll be sure to take you on a nice date when you get home to make up for lost time.

Nathan Explosion

Listen, Nathan isn’t the most talkative man on Earth. Or in the States. Or in Mordhaus. Or, anywhere, really. No, his way of showing love is through spending time together. He loves getting up in the afternoon morning with you, going through your morning routine, watching you pick out your outfits… loves to just you know, exist with you. He thought he was going to be fine while you were gone, but everyone in a 30mi radius could tell he was not.

Spoiler alert: He is not.

He’s awkward on phonecalls, and is abysmal on videocalls (can’t hold a phone straight to save his life), so while he will 100% try, he’s not… he’s not great. But you know, just keep him updated with your daily activities — send photos of your adventures, of your outfit choices in the morning, of the random shit you found in the shops… it makes him feel just a little less alone. And he’ll try to do the same, even if the photos are always weirdly out of focus. He does better at the random voice notes he’ll send to you — now those, those make you feel more at home. It’s usually just some random thing he’s been thinking of — maybe it’s a random verse he’s been noodling at, maybe it’s an idea for some new too-expensive project, maybe it’s just some random thought that won’t leave him alone. But they mean a lot.

Other than that, he does fairly decent at distracting himself — if there was any time for a good-old friender-bender, it’s now.

5/10, Pickles is doing his damndest to keep him away from the tequila.

Pickles the Drummer

He’s been preparing for this day from the moment you put it on the calendar. He just knows he’s going to be horrific, going to spin himself in circles, going to chew his own arm off, and—

He’s actually fine. He thought he was going to be shaking like a chihuahua in your absence, but all things considered, he’s actually pretty damn okay! I mean yeah, he looks forward to your call at night, and he gets a bit sad if you ever have to miss it, but he’s not basing his entire day around the void your absence has made. Part of that comes from the photos you send throughout the day — he knows you haven’t just fucked off and abandoned him, which honestly, was his biggest worry. The other half of his nonchalance comes with his lifestyle. I wouldn’t say he’s drinking more now that you’re gone, but also… he’s bored. He’s not drinking himself to death, mind you, it’s just… Pickles.

He for sure gets a bit sappier when he’s really under the influence — he will be showing photos of your adventures to anyone who will listen. And to anyone who won’t. He’s glad you’re having a good time, genuinely.

Might as well go on a good old friender-bender while he has the time, though.

9/10, surprisingly normal, but someone should really look into his liver — how it hasn’t shut down by now is anyone’s guess.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

When its time for your trip, he thinks he’s gonna do great in your absence. Love you to death, but it’ll be nice to play guitar in the middle of the night again without having to worry about waking you up. And he can finally watch that horror movie you said he’d hate because for some reason you’re convinced that he hates them. Oh! And he can finally try his hand at drinking Nathan under the table again, and—

He has a whole list of stupid shit planned out, and he doesn’t even make it an hour before he’s smacked with a very crushing loneliness. He finds himself turning to murmur to you, only to have your usual space just… empty.

The weight of your absence is stunning, and he refuses to admit how much he misses you. But you can take a guess, with how much he draws out your midnight phonecalls. And really, its hard to keep up the dirty talk for that long without getting cliche— how about you just tell him about your day?

4/10, emotionally constipated Swedish man ends up in ER with repetitive strain injuries to the fingers and wrist, more news at 10:00.

Toki Wartooth

Toki considers himself to be fairly adaptable. I mean sure, he misses you half to death, but he can function without you. Plus, he always has his memory boxes and scrapbooks for when he’s particularly longing, and he always has the ability to call!

By which I mean, he’s calling you almost any chance he gets. But to be fair, that’s not too much different from when you’re at home — he just likes to talk to you. He keeps you updated on all of the shenanigans at Mordhaus, so you never really feel too far from home. But now that you’re off on your own adventure, he wants to hear all about it! Please send him photos!

Genuinely, he does great at surviving without you. That is, until it comes time to sleep — he didn’t realize how good you were at keeping the nightmares at bay. Expect a slightly longer call at night — he probably won’t tell you about the nightmares, but he does get a bit whinier about you coming home.

8/10, surprisingly adaptable, but please bring him a trinket. No, it does not matter that he could buy every item in the country thrice over — he would still like a little trinket.

William Murderface

He does not miss you, he’s just buying a casket and writing his will because it’s a fun, Tuesday activity.

Okay, he’s lying, he misses you so fucking much it’s unreal. It just feels weird to, you know, say it like that. He’d be calling you 24/7 if you weren’t out and about, living your life. So instead, he texts. There’s no obligation to respond immediately, mind you… but a few updates here and there would be deeply appreciated.

He tries his absolute best to distract himself while you’re gone — maybe Planet Piss will finally get it’s first EP down (false) — with varying success. His chief method of distraction comes to hanging out with the band… and the boys are texting you by the end of the week to please come home, because they’re having to beat him off with a stick. He’s also weirdly agitated with everyone but you, which certainly doesn’t help matters… but on the phone, he’s just as soft as could be.

3/10, he’s going to chew his own leg off at this rate. Someone save him, please.

[dadvans]

elliot friedman: ok i’m going to move away from asking you sid questions. who do you most like to watch in the lea-- nate: sid.

heeeeere we go

same interview now with video!

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (XXVIII)

Part one // MASTERPOST // continued from here

Haha— this part is shit and all over the place, but it is published today!!! So there ya go🙂‍↕️ some whumpy stuff, the end is crap— yeah, idk, it will be edited at some point 🤷🤷‍♀️🤷‍♂️

*~*~*~*~*

Kit really needed to pee. Like he really needed to go, but here he was, still handcuffed to the headboard of the bed, and every possible position he tried to get into to unbutton his pants didn’t work out so he was sitting on the bed like a bold child and trying not to think about how much he really needed to pee.

Because it was verging on the edge of painful.

The sun had fallen since Jude had tried to strangle him and get his revenge. Ambrose must have left a few hours ago, and Kit was hungry and tired, but not tired enough to sleep.

And fuck… he really needed the toilet.

So eventually his organs overclouded by his better judgement and he reached out for Ambrose.

Psssttt… Dickhead.

Nothing. Kit stared at the wall ahead of him and shifted his position a little on the bed.

Psssst… Omenbitch.

Still nothing. Was Ambrose ignoring him? The fucking nerve of this guy!

HEY! Kit thought louder. YOU PIECE OF SH—

WHAT?!

Kit physically recoiled at the anger and deafening reply Ambrose shot him.

Kit… Ambrose said, and Kit could picture him sighing. Sorry, what do you want?

I need to piss.

Then piss.

On the floor?

Why not?

I’m not a fucking untrained dog for one, arsehole!

Well that is debatable.

You are such a dickhead.

For fuck’s sake, Nathan boomed in Kit’s mind and Kit’s ears rang from the sheer intensity of his voice. Nathan didn’t master the same control Ambrose did. He didn’t grow up with the gift, just appropriated it. What are you two arguing about?

I need to piss, Kit said at the same time that Ambrose said, he needs to piss.

Then piss.

Kit let out a frustrated sigh and stomped his foot on the ground.

Actually… Nathan continued. Hmm, Kit, perhaps you can piss and join us for dinner. I’ll have Jude fetch you.

Wait— Kit thought but winced as an invisible hand grabbed his head and slammed it back against the wall to cut him off. Kit hissed, his brain fogging over as the heat from the impact blossomed along his skull. Fucking dickhead with his stupid fucking powers. Maybe he should find someone with the power to not be a dickhead and he would be palatable then.

Don’t resist, Kit, Ambrose said in his mind. Kit knew not to reply because Nathan would hear him, but still. What would he say to that? His muscles were stiff from being cooped up on the bed for so long, unable to leave the room. And he was fucking starving. Dinner sounded great right about now.

A few minutes later and Kit heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards his room. He sat up on the edge of the bed as much as possible, eager to stand up finally. His eyes found cruel green when the door opened. Jude smiled at him as he walked in.

Kit swallowed the riling remark on the tip of his tongue, Ambrose told him not to resist so he would be good.

“Look at you, sitting and waiting like a good puppy. Well come on, everyone’s waiting,” Jude said and Kit frowned. He pulled on his cuffs as to remind him that Kit was stuck on the bed. Jude tilted his head. “Well?”

“I—” Kit began but cut himself off. “I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Kit said through clenched teeth, rattling the cuffs again. Jude hummed and walked over to Kit. His green eyes lazily went over Kit’s arms locked behind his back to the bed, clearly seeing the handcuffs before he looked Kit in the eyes again, his smile sharp.

“Looks like you’re not trying hard enough,” Jude said with a shrug. Before Kit could ask if this guy was fucking mentally deficient, Jude’s hand shot out and he grabbed Kit’s cheeks, squeezing them hard until Kit couldn’t close his mouth or do anything except try and shake Jude’s hand off.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jude said, wrenching Kit’s head up so he was staring Jude in the eyes. Kit struggled in the cuffs, metal clanging dully against wood, trying to dislodge Jude’s hand but it was all in vain. Jude’s eyes seemed to get darker and Kit froze.

“No!” Kit protested, but with his mouth half open it just sounded like oh. As in, I know what you’re about to do, kind of oh.

“Kit, I think you’re not putting any effort into following me downstairs like a good boy. So how about you get out of your cuffs,” — even before he finished Kit could feel the fog settling over his mind, his struggles seizing momentarily, — “and follow me downstairs.”

Jude let go of Kit’s face and Kit’s expression turned blank as he began to pull at the cuffs. Yanking his wrists free, trying to twist and turn and pull them out of the cuffs, hut the cuffs were on too tight, locked with no wiggle room. All his struggles earned him was pain and he cried out as he yanked and tugged and pulled.

Kit?! Ambrose asked but Kit couldn’t answer. He had to get out of the cuffs. Jude stepped back and grinned, watching as the hero struggled and writhed in pain, trying to free himself from his restraints. There was always something so beautiful about overriding someone’s self-preservation and watching them destroy themselves.

“Fuck!” Kit screamed as he felt warm blood trickle from his wrists as he yanked violently at the cuffs on the bed. “Please, please— AGH!”

“It’s not difficult, Kit. Come on now, chop chop. Everyone’s waiting for you.”

Kit ripped and tore, his shoulder slammed violently forward as he squirmed, using one foot on the floor and the other on the bed to try and pull his hands free as the stench of iron filled the room. Jude chuckled behind him, his cat-like amusement palpable as Kit changed position again.

He turned his body, his arms twisting around and he pulled with a horrific scream until a loud crack echoed around the room and Kit cried out in pain, falling to the floor. He let out a loud, pained grunt as he cradled his broken hand and brought it to his chest.

“KIT!” Ambrose screamed up the stairs, but Kit barely heard it, the world swimming in front of him as blood poured from his wrists. A hand grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet. Kit stumbled into a standing, his feet stumbling and fumbling over each other as he was pushed forward.

They stopped just before the stairs and a door was opened in front of him. All he saw was white before he was shoved in and Kit went sprawling, his hands out to catch him and he screamed.

“JUDE YOU FUCKING— I SWEAR TO GOD, NO GET OFF ME, NATE!”

“You have sixty seconds,” Jude said sweetly. “I’ll even close the door for you.”

Kit blinked, pain vignetting his vision. His blood coated the tiles with a putrid crimson, oh, he was in a bathroom. Right.

He had needed to pee…

Kit grabbed the edge of something white with his good hand and started to pull himself up, blinking away the pain, his body numbed to feeling. His teeth chattered as he looked around, searching for the toilet. Just in front of him… he would— he could make that.

Bloody handprints smeared the walls as Kit made his way over, the handcuffs still locked around his good wrist. It was an effort to unbutton his pants, but he felt so much better after peeing. Like his hand wasn’t mangled right now.

When he saw his face in the mirror over the sink he recoiled, disgusted. He wasn’t pale, he was white. White as the bathroom tiles, almost see through, his skin translucent and stretched taut over the bones in his face. His skin was breaking out in red sores and his eyes were veined with that luminous red lightning stretching like branches across his face.

He looked like a monster.

Like something from a ghost story.

He washed his good hand and glanced down at his mangled one, a heavy, warm feeling turning in his stomach that he swallowed as he grabbed his bad arm and forced it under the cold water. He cried out, biting his cheek and lips to dampen the sound but he abandoned that all together when the water hit his thumb and he cried out.

“Times up, drama queen,” Jude said, opening the door. Kit looked at him with wet eyes, a shivering, pale mess, like a cancer patient or a terminally sick man. Was he going to die with this red lightning? Was that his future? He didn’t…

All of sudden Jude was in front of him, turning off the tap and grabbing Kit by the hair, yanking him out behind him. “Fuck, ow! Let me go! Stop! Let me—”

“Go?” Jude asked, coming to a sudden stop. “Gladly.”

With a strong swing, Jude dragged Kit in front of him and then kicked Kit in the hip and Kit fell. Only he didn’t stop. His elbow hit one stairs, his head following, his feet going over his head, hitting his knee, his ankle, his bad hand and he gasped as he rolled and bounced and tumbled until he stopped and he whimpered at the bottom, coughing, trying to get some air back in his lungs.

“I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Ambrose seethed and Kit was vaguely aware of a struggle but his brain wasn’t cooperating enough help him fill in the gaps. He wheezed as he put his good hand under him, still wet from the water and it slid across the floor and he fell again. Pathetic.

Weak.

He can’t even lift his head, god, what would Mentor think of him like this? If he saw him now? His second chance? His strong legacy? Would he turn away like he did to Ambrose? Would he throw him out and tell him to never come knocking again?

“Kit, hey,” a pair of black eyes met Kit’s, but even holding a gaze seemed too monumental a task. “It’s okay. You’re fine. I’m going to get you up, okay?”

Kit hummed in pain. Ambrose took it as assent. He hooked an arm around Kit’s waist and grabbed his bad arm at the elbow, putting Kit’s arm over his shoulder. Kit moaned wetly as his hand bounced off Ambrose’s shoulder as the villain stood the two of them up. Kit put weight on his leg and one of his ankles folded and he gasped as he crumbled, but Ambrose kept him up.

“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay. I got you. Come on, it’s okay,” Ambrose said as he walked Kit to a chair at the dining table. “You’re fine. Come on. It’s okay.”

Kit was openly crying but he didn’t care. He was exhausted and starving and humiliated and in pain, he wanted someone to be nice to him. Even if Ambrose did torture him before, he needed, no he craved the kindness now and he would take it from anybody. His life has been too hard lately, he just wants something nice, something soft.

“There,” Ambrose said, gently depositing Kit in a chair. Kit shivered as Ambrose let go of him. Before Ambrose could step away, Kit’s good hand shot across his body and grabbed Ambrose’s sleeve. Ambrose stiffened beside him. “Hey, Kit— it’s—”

“Oskar.” Nathan said, his voice commanding, and Kit whimpered. He tightened his fingers in Ambrose’s sleeve, begging without speaking for Ambrose not to leave him. Silver eyes cut into Kit’s face. He trembled and shut his eyes, turning his head into Ambrose’s arm. “Come here, now.”

“Nate, please, he’s—”

“Do you want me to let Jude come and break you up?”

Kit tightened his grip and whimpered again. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, please, please,” he said as Ambrose took his hand and plucked it off his sleeve. “Ambrose please, don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving, I’m just sitting over here, okay. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Anything else happen to me, Kit corrected silently.

Ambrose’s shoulders wound tight at that, but he continued walking past Nate to a seat at the opposite end of the table. It wasn’t a big table, but in Kit’s current state, it would take him years to cross it or reach safety. All he could do was shake in his chair like a fucking chihuahua.

Kit’s eyes slid to Nathan’s silver that were fixed on him, swirling slowly like mercury. It made Kit motion sick. “I’m guessing we don’t have to restrain you, do we?”

“F-f-fuck you.” Kit spat. The effort pulled a cough from his chest, he doubled over the table and gasped. He could feel the beginnings of a nosebleed trickle down his nose, warm and sticky on his face as it ran over his lips.

“Mmm, I’m terrified, little hero.” Nathan said as he turned away and walked to the other end of the table, pulling out the seat directly opposite Kit. He sat down in his chair and reached his hand out to grab Ambrose’s hand in his.

Kit glanced at Ambrose who stiffened, but allowed Nathan to lift his hand and press a possessive kiss to his knuckles. “It’s so nice to get to know your new friend, Oskar. Tell me. How did you two meet?”

Kit steadied himself and sat back in the chair, resting his head against the soft cushion. The room was swirling in front of his eyes, everything hazy and a little too bright so he closed his eyes but that didn’t help the wooziness that followed and made him feel worse.

“Work,” is all Ambrose replied. Kit opened his eyes again at the answer.

Amused mercury eyes found Kit’s. Nathan rubbed his thumb over the back of Ambrose’s knuckles. “Did you try to stop the great Omen, Kit?”

Kit didn’t answer. He just stared. A small searing ring started to echo in the back of Kit’s mind as Ambrose lurched forward and wrapped two hands around Nathan’s. The ringing stopped as Nathan turned to Ambrose, smiling a little sadly at him.

“Don’t. He won’t be able to handle anymore pain!” Ambrose said, his voice pleading.

“So?” Nathan asked, reaching his free hand up to brush Ambrose’s dark curls away from his eyes. “What do I care if he dies?”

“If you kill him, I’ll leave.” Ambrose snapped. That seemed to suck all air from the room. If Kit wasn’t lightheaded before he certainly was now. Nathan’s expression was as calm as the eye of a storm, but even here Kit could feel his cold fury at Ambrose’s ultimatum.

Nathan sat back in his chair, pulling his hand from Ambrose’s. His eyes flickered to Kit, then to Ambrose and back to Kit before he smiled. “I see. That’s how it is, is it?”

“Yes,” Ambrose snapped. “That’s how it is.”

Nathan let out a small, humourless chuckle. His eyes glinted like gunmetal as he pushed back on the table, wood scraping against wood. Ambrose stood too.

“Nate—”

“Sit down, Ambrose.”

“Wait, what’re you—” the wind was knocked from Ambrose’s lungs as he was thrown heavily into his chair. The wood bent like liquid around his arms and hardened again as Nathan started towards Kit. “Nate! Stop, wait. I’m sorry— I won’t—”

“No, Oskar, you’re right.” Nathan said. Kit clicked his fingers below the table, but all he could generate was a measly spark with the cuffs still locked around one hand. He was too weak. “I don’t want to kill the boy, do I? But that’s okay. We can rough him up as much as we like. I can give him to Jude as a toy and tell him to bring him to the brink of death over and over and over again.”

“Nathan!” Ambrose cried, grunting as he struggled to break his wooden shackles.

Nathan grabbed Kit’s broken hand and squeezed. Kit screamed, crying out as he tried to escape or push Nathan off of him. Nathan turned to Ambrose.

“Nathan, stop! Please!”

“Hush, you worry too much. Look, I can do this.”

The sound of bones breaking echoed through Kit’s skull and he roared as his body repaired itself. He could feel his body stitch itself back together artificially, the heat of his cells and blood working overtime as he writhed under Nathan’s touch.

After what felt like an eternity Nathan released him and Kit’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. He slipped from the chair, boneless, his head slapped off the wooden floor and he woke again, moaning in pain. He reached a hand up to his temple and he shivered when he realised that was his broken hand. The hand Jude forced him to rip from the cuffs.

Kit turned, his body moving like molasses, sludge-like and slow, as he turned onto his back and scrambled back from Nathan who was advancing towards him again.

“Nathan! The trauma on his body will kill him! His heart—” Ambrose stammered, struggling in hushed wooden prison. “He can’t take another healing like that in such a short amount of time.”

“Oh don’t worry, Osk.” Nathan said, smiling shark-like down at Kit. Kit’s heart stuttered in his chest as he clicked his fingers but nothing. Fucking! STUPID CUFFS! FUCK!

“Don’t come near me,” Kit yelled. “You fucking psychopath! Let us go!”

Nathan stopped advancing as Kit’s back hit something solid. He froze, his chest rising and falling erratically. He didn’t recognise the solid thing behind him was a pair of legs until knees were bending into his shoulders and he jerked away. Kit threw himself to the side on his hands and knees and pushed himself up, running towards Ambrose’s chair and pulling at the wooden beams locking his arms down.

“Kit, I’ll be fine,” Ambrose said, his voice sounded strangely gentle and pleading. “Go! Just—”

“Kiiiiiiiiiiitttt,” and Kit swayed on his feet. Ambrose turned his head and said something but the words turned to water and slipped through his fingers like a sieve, unable to catch them or decipher them.

A hand grabbed his face and turned him to look into dark green eyes and Kit snapped out of his trance, smacking Jude’s hands away and grabbing the free cuff in his fist before sending a punch straight to Jude’s jaw. Then his nose.

The maniac stumbled back, blood dripping from his face but Kit didn’t give him an inch and stepped in again, clicking his fingers with one hand while he punched Jude in the eye this time and the villain screamed as something squelched. Lightning sparked in Kit’s fist and he channeled it into the hand with the cuff and grabbed Jude with his free hand, going for the final blow.

A hand caught his fist and Kit’s eyes shot to Nathan. The veins erupting from his silver eyes were electric purple, and the electricity consumed Kit’s until Kit’s grip on Jude let up. He jerked back, yanking his arm back but Nathan just crushed his hand around Kit’s until Kit’s wrist bent under the sheer strength.

“OKAY! Okay! Fuck!” Kit screamed, folding with his arm to his knees but Nathan didn’t relent.

“Nate! Nate, please! Stop!” Ambrose cried frantically. “Please! Leave him alone!”

“Just who is this kid to you, Oskar?!” Nathan demanded, kicking Kit onto his back and stomping on his chest. “Why do you care about him so much?!”

“Because he’s— he— fuck,” Ambrose yelled, slamming his head back on the chair. “He’s…”

“He’s?”

“I don’t know!” Ambrose snapped. Kit’s eyes went to Ambrose, brows coming over his eyes. What the fuck was Ambrose talking about? “Mentor adopted him when I left, Nate.”

Nathan froze above Kit. His head snapped to Ambrose and he got off of Kit. It wasn’t like Kit could move, he could feel a telekinetic energy rippling above him like a barrier, keeping him pinned but he could turn his head to Ambrose and Nathan.

Nathan’s eyes were hard, his brows lowered slightly and pinching together in something like concern. Nathan grabbed Ambrose’s chin and forced Ambrose to look at him. “What?” Nathan demanded, breathless.

“I didn’t know,” Ambrose said. “I didn’t know it when I met Kit, but— it’s true.”

For a long, tense moment, Nathan said nothing, just stared, his eyes searching Ambrose’s face for something, anything.

“Oh Oskar,” Nathan said with a sigh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Ambrose’s forehead. Silver eyes glanced down to Kit. “We can kill him together if you like.”

“No!” Ambrose said quickly. Kit’s heart thundered against his ears, his blood rushing through his body quickly, preparing his muscles for a fight. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Then what is it, Osk?” Nathan asked, leaning back and cupping Ambrose’s cheeks with both of his hands, forcing Ambrose to look at him. “What is it about this fucking kid that would make you sacrifice everything for him? This isn’t you. You’re not a hero.”

“This isn’t about being a hero!” Ambrose protested.

“Isn’t it?” Nathan challenged. “You think if you can save this kid that maybe it will change how your father looks at you?”

Ambrose didn’t hesitate. “No.”

“You’re lying, Oskar.”

“I already took everything from him, Nate!” Ambrose snapped. Kit flinched on the ground. Everything from him? How much did Kit have to offer? Not much, if everything meant that Kit’s life was already used and ruined by Omen.

Wasn’t it though?

Kit didn’t even struggle to fight the barrier holding him anymore. He was tired, he realised. Tired of fighting to try and not get hurt, to try and stop people hurting him. He didn’t want to be used as leverage against Ambrose anymore. He’d rather Ambrose just kill him.

He should have just killed him…

Kit…

Kit didn’t acknowledge Ambrose in his head. He just lay flat and stared at the ceiling. Had all his fighting been for nothing? Was he destined to die at the hands of a villain? A supervillain?

Maybe his golden years were the ones he spent with Mentor, and he already knew during that time, even that happiness would end. He wasn’t born to be happy. He wasn’t built for happiness. Some people just weren’t. That’s okay.

Kit, if I knew… If I could take it all back…

Kit just stared at the ceiling above him. It didn’t matter. None of it… he cast his eyes down to his forearm, looking at the scars there, Ambrose’s special ownership. Like a collar on a dog, something that would be there for a long time, longer than Kit would like.

What was he if not just a chew toy for stronger people to use and abuse however they wanted? Make him do whatever they wanted him to? Jude… Ambrose… Nathan.

They were all the same level of strong.

God. Kit was such an idiot. He didn’t realise he was crying until a hot drop dripped onto his cheek and he flinched.

He should have never joined the Academy. He should never have let his head be filled with ideals of being a hero, a fucking Hero?! Against villains like these? He couldn’t even fight back without being slapped into last week by one of them, or forcing himself to torture himself for their sick, sadistic pleasure.

Silver eyes leaned over Kit, staring down at him with a hard look on his face. Kit stared back, blinking blankly up at the villain. He straightened and snapped his fingers with a sigh. The sound of wood creaking snapped Kit out of his spiralling thoughts and then black eyes were above him.

“Kit, hey.” Ambrose said, slapping his face lightly. Kit turned his head away.

“Just take him to a room,” Nathan said. “A proper room. I’ll lock the door once you leave, Oskar.”

“Can I—?”

“Do what you like,” Nathan said with a sigh. Kit ignored the conversation as Ambrose pulled him to his feet. Ambrose glanced over his shoulder at Nathan.

“Thank you, Nate.”

Nathan turned away. “No problem, darling.”

“Really,” Ambrose said. “Thank you.”

Kit didn’t care about whatever moment the two bastards were sharing. He just wanted to be dead, to be killed. He wanted Ambrose to just join Nathan and team up against him already, make him regret ever being born.

Fuck… he…

“Kit, please,” Ambrose whispered quietly. Kit didn’t answer. He just kept walking.

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

@beatenbruisedandbloody @404lunar1216 @whumpyworld @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whumpasaurus101 @0eggdealer @rejectedbytheempty @sleepy-pearl @n3rv0usn0v4 @whumpatize-me-captain @sunshiline-writes @burningkittypoet @honeyed-euphrates @sacredwrath @theonewithallthefixations @blood-enthusiast t t @tippytappytyping @shinokoro @bedtimescenarios @whatwhump @acer-whumpstuff @fa1rie @jesterrinobutter @xxgalgurlxx @princess-bubble-blossom @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @dutifullykrispyland @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog @ehobep

[asunsetgrace16]

✧ 𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗙 𝗔 𝗕𝗥𝗢𝗞𝗘𝗡 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧⎥ 𝗡𝗠29

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon x fem!reader

Summary: It turns out that it is possible to die of a broken heart

Warnings: sad sad sad, swearing,

Notes: I take it back. Kind of. I don't think my groove is entirely back, or maybe it was just the fics I was working on. I wrote this in four hours around midnight and this is my first attempt at writing something sad. I will say that it was hard to not cry writing this, so hopefully 🤞 you guys feel some emotions too. There isn't much dialogue in the beginning. Also, broken heart syndrome is in fact a real thing

masterlist ⎥ navigation

Word Count: 3.7k

Nate is numb. He’s been numb since about 10:30 last night, when the police knocked on his door. He had been home for 20 minutes max, having just gotten back from Cale’s house, supper with him and Gabe and Mikko. Tracey was up in Calgary for a few days. Y/N had dinner plans with her work friends, it was Shannon’s birthday. The world tilted on its axis as he was told that Y/N was killed. They soberly tell him what happened forty-five minutes ago. Hit-and-run…they are looking for the driver…happened in the restaurant parking lot…no, she was the only one. Nate’s pretty sure he stops breathing, because he feels a firm hand on his elbow guiding him back into his house, coaxing him to take deep breaths. Blood rushes in his ears like a wave, and he thinks, Australia, their honeymoon. He lifts a hand to wipe his face. When did he start crying? 

The police stay for a while, watching him carefully until they are sure he won’t spiral into a panic attack, ironic all things considered. When he is semi-into it, they explain everything again. 

Ok,” Nate says, “would you...you mind, um, coming back in the morning? I need to hear this once some of the shock wears off.” His voice is quiet and strained. He doesn’t fight the tears silently rolling down his cheeks. They agree to his request, leaving with a handshake and squeeze on the shoulder, hints of agony shining through their masks of professionalism.

Nate stays sitting at his kitchen table, head in his hands. Sobs shake his body, uncontrollable and awful. He cries so hard he thinks he might cry himself sick. Eventually, he leans back, face twisted with emotion and damp with tears. Slowly, he heads to bed. Each movement is mechanical. He tosses and turns, his sleep is plagued by once-sweet memories of Y/N turned into cruel reminders that she was ripped from him.

Eventually he gives up and moves to the guest bedroom. He cries more, more than he ever has. He wants Y/N, he wants to kiss her, and hold her, and take her to games and-.

-

Next thing Nate knows, he is waking up to the sun streaming through the curtains. He is confused at first, the stiffness of the bed isn't what his bed feels like. As he opens his eyes, last night comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to believe it. They had just started their life together, with promises of love and kids and 60 more years. The tears start again, slower than the previous night but no less gut-wrenching. Reluctantly he heads to the bathroom. He looks worse than imagined. Red and puffy eyes that unfortunately make the blue pop, pale skin and chapped lips. Nate’s hands shake as he splashes water on his face. 

Taking a deep breath, he tries to get some semblance of a list to make sense in his mind. He shoots off a vague text to Bedsy, letting him know that he might be late for practice, not knowing how long the police will take. 

It turns out that it only takes half an hour. The same officers from the night before knock on Nate’s door at 7:30, introducing themselves and Parker and Walker. They recount the night before in more detail. Y/N was killed at 9:48 pm, during a hit-and-run in the restaurant parking lot. She was the only one, none of her friends were even injured. They tell Nate that it was an instant death, painless…that she didn’t suffer. Nate is frozen in his chair, back ramrod straight and hands clasped tightly. Walker leaves a copy of his first report, and his phone number in case Nate has questions. He walks them out, shaking their hands and thanking them for coming over again.

Returning to the kitchen, he pulls out a notepad and pen. Nate lists off the things he needs to do. Call his parents. Call Y/N’s parents. Call the funeral home. Talk to C-Mac and Bedsy and the team. Get through practice. 

He decides to wait on calling his parents, saving that for the afternoon. Same with the funeral home. He is in a daze the whole time he prepares for practice. He makes his usual protein drink, but he thinks that he used orange juice instead of water. Nate’s not sure. He also isn’t entirely sure how he made it to the arena without running a red light.

His whole walk to Bedsy’s office is stressful. He dreads the thought of having to have this conversation more than once. He knocks on the open door, seeing C-Mac there as well. 

“Hey Nate, I got your text.” Bedsy starts, looking at Nate, concerned, “You ok? Respectfully, you look like shit.”

“Feel like it too. Can uh, both of you come down to the dressing room? Like now? I have some, some uh,” Nate stops, swallowing, “some news, and I want to say it as few times as possible.”

“Sure, all right.” Bednar and C-Mac glance at each other, worried. They’ve seen Nate be not ok before, but this is new. Nate is silent during their trek to the dressing room, still holding his orange juice and green protein powder monstrosity. Bedsy opens the door, gesturing for Nate to go through first.

“Hey Nate, you forgot your jacket at mine last night. You didn’t pick up when I called.” Cale tells him. Nate is standing where Bedsy usually stands.

“Uh…ok thanks, Cale. I was um…I was a little preoccupied last night. Sorry” He responds. His voice is shaking, his hands are shaking, Bedsy and C-Mac are getting increasingly concerned and Nate feels on the verge of a panic attack.

Cale grins suggestively at him, “Ohhh, I see, I see how it is. Getting a little lovin’ on with Y/N I s-”

Nate interrupts abruptly, cutting straight to the chase, “Y/N is dead. She’s dead.”

The whole locker room freezes. Cale’s jaw drops. Someone's water bottle hits the floor.

“Holy shit-” 

“Oh my god.”

“Nate, you need to sit down.”

The voices swirl and blend around him. Nate’s vision loses focus, and cotton balls are stuffed in his ears. Hands find his elbows, easing him into a stall. Someone kneels in front of him. Nate stares, glassy eyes unseeing. 

Slowly, he comes back. His throat is raw and scratchy and he needs water. Mikko tosses over a water bottle and a clean, damp towel.

“Start from the beginning, Nate.” Jo urges softly.

So Nate recounts the story. The entire team is close around him as he repeats what he was told this morning and last night. Their faces reflect the horror and agony Nate feels. Tears fall when he says that her death was instant. He hears sniffles from somewhere, and everyone else is crying now, too.

“It’s good,” he says, “knowing that she wasn’t in pain, but it is awful knowing that there was no chance of saving her.” His voice breaks, he covers his mouth with a hand sobs as quietly as he can. Cale hugs one side and Jo’s on the other. Once the tears slow, he takes the towel that Mikko’s holding. 

“Practice is canceled, today and tomorrow.” Bednar says, “I don’t want Nate to be left alone. Cale, Jo, Mikko, go with him and grab Gabe too. I will talk to the league, see about rescheduling the game tomorrow. I will have to tell them, Nate.”

“No, you guys play. Say I’m out day to day or something. A practice muscle strain.” Nate objects.

“Nate, your wife died less than twelve hours ago. We will not be playing hockey. I’ll phone in and say we forfeit. I will tell Bettman that the news doesn’t go out until you, me, and C-Mac give an interview.”

“Ok.”

-

The afternoon follows a similar pattern. Cale drives Nate home, Jo phones Gabe. Mel brings soup when she comes with Gabe. She folds Nate into a hug as he cries. He makes the excruciating phone call to his parents and hers. Cale smartly suggests doing a triple call so there’s only one conversation. 

“Where should I bury her?” Nate asks, “Here, or should she be back home?”

“Nate, her home has been with you for years. Keep her close to you.” Y/N’s dad tells him. Nate nods forgetting that they can’t actually see him. Gabe takes notes while they discuss the funeral over the phone. Granite headstone, brown casket, service at St. Andrew’s and burial in the graveyard nearby. The reception will be held in the hall near Nate’s house. He doesn’t want people in his house. The date is set for March 5th. 

The media has a field day upon the announcement that the Avs have forfeited their game against the Stars. Sid calls him within a minute.

Nate forces the team to play their next game three days later on February 28th. It’s at home against Buffalo. They lose in an uncharacteristic fashion, so much so that the Buffalo players notice something is really wrong.

Gabe takes care of most of the funeral arrangements, and Nate is forever grateful. He meets with the funeral director, sending with him the clothes he picked out for Y/N to be buried in. Before he leaves, he hands Nate a box.

Opening it, Nate finds her purse. Her phone. A box with her wedding rings. Jo finds him with shaking shoulders and his head in his hands.

On March 2nd, a week after Y/N died, Nate asks for a press conference. The Avs lost both games they played in that week, with Nate a very conspicuous absence. Bedsy asks over and over if Nate is sure that he wants to go through with it.

“I’m sure. It won’t be a secret for much longer.” Nate says. Bedsy just nods. The trio of Nate, Bedsy, and C-Mac file into the media room.

Nate starts, wanting to get this over with as fast as possible. “I’m aware you all have been wondering where I have been this past week.”

The reporters nod. Nate takes a deep breath.

“On February 23rd, I received news. News that my wife was killed in a hit and run accident. It happened in a restaurant parking lot as she was heading to her car.” He stops as hands fly up. C-Mac picks someone.

“Nate, I am very sorry for your loss. Is this why the game was forfeited last week?”

“Yes, it was. It was a shock to all of us, and none of us were in any condition or mental state to play.”

“How is this going to affect the rest of your season?”

Nate scoffs quietly. His wife is dead and they are concerned with hockey. “I have decided to take an extended leave of absence from the team. I won’t be playing in the game tomorrow night, nor will I be for the rest of the season. My life was completely torn apart a week ago, I have more important things right now. I do ask that I be left alone right now, no reporters at my house or on the street. I want privacy.”

With that, Nate walks out. Cale is waiting to drive him home and he takes one look at Nate and pulls him in for a hug. He is tired of crying and tired of people saying they are sorry and tired of missing Y/N and tired of being tired.

-

No. 1 

February 24, 9:09 pm

Nate: Hey guys, I have some news.  Davo: Period at the end of the sentence. This won’t be good Nate: Y/N was killed last night, hit and run Sid: Oh my god, Nate Sid: Are you ok? Were you hurt? Davo: Oh shit Nate: I’m fine, but I guess that’s relative right now Nate: I wasn’t there. She went to dinner with friends. It happened in the parking lot Auston: I am so sorry, man. I realize that that is probably not what you want or need to hear, but I don’t know what else to say Nate: No no, it's ok. I appreciate it. I think I’m still in shock, so not much room for anything other that devastated right now Ryan: Is there anything we can do? Nate: No, not right now. Funeral’s on the 5th, if anyone wants to come. My place is full, but any of the guys would let you stay with them Sid: Of course we want to come, it's just a matter of whether we can Ryan: Even if any of us play, once the news is out most teams will probably want a player there for support Davo: I checked and it's in the middle of a break for us. Ryan and I will be there, Leon too probably Jack: We’re out west on a road trip, but I could try and pull some strings to come. Nico will try to be there too Owen: We are at the end of a homestand that day, but I’ll probably get to come. Can’t do much worse than we already are Owen: That was bad, sorry. Lame-ass excuse for a joke Nate: Don’t be. It almost made me not frown. Thank you Juraj: I’ll be there. We are in LA the day before. Newy will want to come Baby Connor: I’ve got a break before our trip down there. I’ll be there. Dammit why am I baby Connor again? Nate: Cause you are a baby. I really appreciate it, guys. Thank you Baby Connor: Dude obviously. You can’t just drop the worst news of your life and not expect your number 1 buddies to rally the troops and support you Nate: The kid’s gonna kill us all. I didn’t need to cry again but everything makes me cry now, I guess Baby Connor: Oh my god, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to Nate: I know, just messing with you

-

The funeral goes perfectly. Nate’s and Y/N’s parents arrived a few days ago and have been staying with him. It’s a comfort to have them there, though most days he feels like he’s wading through quicksand. There is usually a teammate there, or two. Sid flies in the day before, same with all the guys from the groupchat. Naz comes from Calgary. EJ and Tyson come, and Josty and Bo make the trip out with Owen. Alex comes with Juraj. Nate spends the day crying silent tears and hugging more people than he cares to remember. Mikko, Cale, EJ, Jo, Tyson, and Sid are pallbearers at the funeral. He gives a speech, short as he can get away with. His voice breaks and wavers the whole time. Y/N’s parents and Nate’s say a few words, and the priest reads the eulogy. 

The weather is mild for the burial, Nate almost wishes it was miserable. The day passes in a daze, making awkward small talk with people he barely knows, Thankfully they leave within an hour. The rest of the people there manage to lift the mood a little and Nate moves from crying to barely frowning. Connor Bedard sticks close to him most of the time. Nate is grateful for him, he’s a good kid with a good heart. He hugs Connor extra hard before he leaves to catch his flight to Utah.

-

“Nate!” Cale calls, knocking on his door again. He’s normally never late, but things still aren’t normal. Nate was the one who suggested that they go skate, not practice, but just to skate. A change of scenery. Cale finally gives up and digs his key out of his pocket. He’s a little confused when he sees that none of the lights are on. Nate hasn’t been himself, but this is weird. Nate’s dog Aspen appears from the hallway. 

“Hey buddy, where’s Nate?” Cale asks him. Aspen circles Cale once before heading back towards Nate’s bedroom. Cale follows him. Nate’s door is shut tight and Aspen has his nose shoved in the corner. Opening the door, Aspen bounds to Nate’s side, where he looks to be still asleep. He whines, getting his nose under Nate’s hand.

“Oh my god.” Cale whispers. Nate is a shade of gray no living person should ever be. “Oh my god.” He moves to the bed. Nate is cool when Cale touches his wrist. He fumbles for his phone, dialing 911 when he doesn’t find a pulse.

-

“Sid…” Kathy calls up the stairs, “Get down here, you have to see this.”

Sidney hustles down at the tone of her voice. Kathy is standing behind the couch, remote gripped in one hand. He stands behind her, hand on her waist. Her hand drops the remote, coming up to cover her mouth as they hear the news.

"... and now we have saddening news coming from Denver, Colorado. It is with our deepest condolences that we announce the death of NHL star, Nathan MacKinnon. He was found early this morning after failing to meet teammate Cale Makar, for morning skate. Makar called 911 when he found MacKinnon in bed after he didn’t answer the door. According to law enforcement agencies, MacKinnon died peacefully at home overnight, but suddenly, with no chance of resuscitation once they arrived on the scene. His death comes just weeks after the death of his wife, Y/N. What this means for the Avalanche and the rest of the season, we don’t know. More, after the break.” 

Sid thumbs open his phone to the news app. Every headline is the same variation of announcing Nate’s death. Tears fall on the screen.

Colorado Avalanche teammates of Nathan MacKinnon, coach Jared Bednar, yet to speak on the star’s sudden death.

Breaking News: NHL Superstar Nathan MacKinnon, dead at 29. What does this mean for the Avalanche?

“The NHL offers its deepest sympathies and condolences to Nathan and Y/N MacKinnon’s families during this time of tragedy.”

“Nathan MacKinnon, announced dead this morning weeks after his wife, Y/N MacKinnon, was tragically killed…”

Details about Nathan MacKinnon’s death are expected soon.

-

THE COLORADO SUN

Details emerge on the death of Colorado Avalanche star Nathan MacKinnon

J.P Burrow, 12:00 pm March 30th, 2025

Four weeks ago, the hockey world was shocked when Nathan MacKinnon, 29, appeared in a press conference after being notably and unusually absent from two home games, both lost in depressing fashion to weaker teams. What he revealed that day was the furthest thing from what anybody expected.

We were told that a week prior, MacKinnon’s wife Y/N, 27, was killed in a hit-and-run car accident. Her funeral was three days later. Understandably, MacKinnon withdrew from the public. His teammates were a constant source of support, but that only goes so far when grieving your spouse. He decided to take the rest of the season off.

MacKinnon and Y/N were married for three years, and together for nearly ten. They were fan-favorites throughout the league, despite them being notoriously private. MacKinnon never smiled as much as he did when he was talking about his wife. 

Now, thirteen days ago, the world was rocked again when it was announced that MacKinnon was dead. Details surrounding his death have been revealed after an autopsy. The report revealed that his heart sustained damage after Y/N’s death, caused by a sudden, constant surge of adrenaline in the days following. This causes a disruption of blood flow in the heart, similar to a heart attack. It is fittingly called Broken heart syndrome, where the death of a loved one can trigger the condition. Death is rare, but it happens.

We reached out to friends of MacKinnon’s across the league, his own teammates commented in a press conference earlier today.

Connor Bedard: Nate was a close friend of mine, he helped me a lot when I first got into the league. I looked up to him a lot. Once I got to know him outside of hockey, I learned just how amazing of a person he is– was. I was shocked to learn that he died. We had just landed in Denver for our game against them when Cale [Makar] called me.

Sidney Crosby: It was a lot for all of us, the whole month. I’ve been close with Nate for ten years, he's my best friend, so to say that I’m going to miss him is an understatement. I saw how much Y/N dying crushed him, they were made for each other. Hockey was his first love, but Y/N was his true love.

Gabe Landeskog: The season changed for all of us after Y/N died and Nate took time off. There will be no replacing Nate, his skill, his passion…it left a hole. I’m not going to sugarcoat things. This will be really difficult to come back from. It won’t be this season, maybe not even next season, but we are going to fight, for Nate. He would want us to.

-

“He really died of a broken heart.” Cale says before turning to bury his face in his wife’s hair, crying silently. He hasn’t been the same since finding Nate, taking his own leave from the team.

For the second time in a month, the Avalanche and company are reunited, standing in black around a grave beside the one they stood around three and a half weeks earlier, but another person short. Y/N’s headstone will be put in the same day as Nate’s. EJ is holding Aspen’s leash, who took him in when Nate died. He’s retiring, he told everybody when they gathered the second time. The past month reminded him that life is short. He is moving back to Denver to take over Nate’s house. They had found a notebook in his bedside table that had the beginnings of a will written in it. He wanted EJ to have Aspen, and the house if he wanted it. Pictures, his suits, and Y/N's wedding dress were to go to his parents, donate his and Y/N's clothes, and box away his Avalanche gear and ship it to Sid in Nova Scotia. Their wedding rings go to Sid too.

“But now they are together again.” Jo says, smiling through his tears. The thought brings some comfort to them, knowing that Nate has been reunited with the love of his life, and won’t spend the rest of his life missing Y/N.

[doubledeadstudio]

Hello, happy holidaysヾ(＾∇＾) I apologize for this being a long question but I've been thinking for a long time and I really have to ask if you would ask the RH crew (Mars, Abel and Fleur too if that's okay) for book and/or movie recommendations, what would they give ? If it's not a spoiler, what media inspired their depiction, if any? I want to practice English so I find new things I like, and I hope my words make meaning when I use translation. Have a happy holiday (づ ᴗ _ᴗ)づ♡

Happy Holidays! This is so sweet. Good luck on your language journey.

Recommendations:

Crux Hertz - The Ritual (2017) or Bones and All (2022) (movie), Siddharta by Hermann Hesse or No Longer Human by Osamu Dazai (books)

Black Lumaban - Mad Max: Fury Road (movie), The Conquest of Bread by Peter Kropotkin (book)

Vincenzo Fontana - Possession (1981) (movie), The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde or Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (book)

Florentin Blanchett - The Substance (2024) or Dead Ringers (1988) (movie), Stiff by Mary Roach (book)

Abel Valencia - American Psycho (2000) or Wolf of Wall Street (2013), no books because he's stupid but I will give a TV show... Desperate Housewives

Inspirations:

So, the thing about this is really complicated because I'm an avid art fan and I consume all sorts of media, from books to movies to tv shows and music. Generally, I get a concept then my brain starts piecing things together. (Crux is the hardest to explain because he originally started off as the child of two of me and my husband's oldest OCs... and he became a whole separate beast on his own.)

But I can give characters that really remind me of them!

Crux - Sans (Undertale), Gojo (JJK), Loki (Marvel), Shawn Spencer (Psych) (This is the worst list of all time), also Markus (Red Embrace:Hollywood), and Lee (Bones and All). Hozier and Will Wood remind me of his aesthetic.

Black - Guts (Berserk), Lio Fotia (Promare), Fenris (Dragon Age), Warren Peace (Sky High), Bigby (Wolf Among Us), Juri (Utena). For music, grandson has his vibes.

Vincenzo - Lestat (Interview with a Vampire), Orin (Baldur's Gate 3), Gilbert (Kaze to Ki no Uta), Mahito (JJK), Alois Trancy (Black Butler), Ryo Asuka (Devilman Crybaby). His storyline was largely inspired by HP Lovecraft's Dreams of Witch House. For music, near everything by Emilie Autumn and Mindless Self Indulgence.

Abel - Ashley (The Boys), Rhys (Tales from the Borderlands), Nathan (Life is Strange). (I won't lie, a huge part of him is directly inspired to parody Right Wing pundits lolol) For music, no lie, Laufey and Lana del Rey, LMAO.

Florentin - Griffith (Berserk), Viktor Frankenstein, Dr Herbert West (Re-Animator).

~~~

For Mars:

Hello, Clovis here, creator of Mars! Thank you for the interest! Mars likes classic films with lots of sexuality and violence. Kill Bill, Pulp Fiction, Chicago (he loves a good musical if it isn't too sugary-sweet). He'll go for the stereotypical Dad Movies too as long as he thinks they're suave enough, like James Bond and Indiana Jones. For books, he reads a lot more than you'd think and enjoys being well-read, but let's say A Song of Ice and Fire, because there's political drama and everyone's suffering. (Their misfortune and crushed innocence amuses him.)

Mars is inspired heavily from the Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood depiction of Greed. While not a direct inspiration (I've had the character for years), Sukuna from Jujutsu Kaisen is hilariously similar to him. Vintage mafia movies are where a lot of his aesthetic comes from. If you like crime thrillers, I would highly recommend the television show Fargo for bastard men that you love to hate, are scary as hell, and are darkly comedic. — Clovis @VileFable

[falafels]

i am thinking once more about how Wymack is from Baltimore. and Nathan Wesninski presumably has been in Baltimore for a decent portion of his life to get the city in his Official Murderer Title. The EC (if i remember right) says Wymack left home at 14 and eventually dropped out of high school (later got his GED to go to college), but he was probably not doing great all things considered: violent household, parental neglect, homelessness TLDR schoolwork not really a priority or maybe he just told someone to fuck off. and Nathan is an asshole who knows when that started.

ANYWAY all this to say I think they were in the same after school detention. maybe even just once. and Wymack doesn’t really remember, maybe it comes back to him in Neil’s third year, when Nathan’s posthumous trial is public and Wymack sees a photo in the papers with a cruel smirk and a forehead scar that looks so familiar. He tells himself it must just be resemblance to Neil, but the memory does come back.

The boy at the desk by the window, twirling his pen with the absentminded smugness of somebody who knows they’re the smartest in the room. The boy who had watched intently as Wymack had pulled the his too-small scruffy hoodie over his face, not quite enough to hide the black eye he was sporting. The boy who has offered him gum once, seemed to recognise the two of them as the same in some sort of way, maybe the violence, maybe the detention. Maybe he’d just been entertained by Wymack’s squirrelly nerves and jumpy disposition.

And I don’t think Wymack would ever mention this to Neil. He doesn’t like to talk about Baltimore, neither of them do. But just to check, double check, he digs out an old yearbook and there’s the photo he was looking for. in the back, with miscellaneous candids of the school’s nobodies, the dropouts, assorted photos. black and white print, a few others in the background, one tall and scrawny boy startled, scruffy, and clearly uncomfortable, sat near a boy with wavy hair, a cutting smirk and air of relaxed confidence, twirling that pen in his left hand.

Wymack closes the book, pours himself a stiff drink (changes his mind and slugs down half the bottle), and never opens it again.

[blackenedsnow]

hihi please write a nathan explosion x reader with tons and tons of anxiety like its so bad 🙏 im in a rlly bad place right now and need some comfort with my boy

unsteady hands

WARNING: Mentions of anxiety, panic attacks, and emotional distress.

PAIRING: Nathan Explosion x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for the request! I had anxiety back in 9th grade so I'm just writing based off my experiences with it.

SUMMARY: Nathan Explosion was not known for his sensitivity. As the lead vocalist of Dethklok, he was used to dealing with chaos, destruction, and the occasional fan frenzy. Emotions, however, were a different beast altogether.

You were curled up on the couch, your breathing ragged and uneven. The familiar signs of a panic attack were setting in, and Nathan could see the fear in your eyes. He frowned, unsure of what to do. His massive hands hovered awkwardly in the air, hesitant to reach out. He knew how to destroy things, but fixing something so delicate was another story.

“Uh, hey,” he started, his deep voice surprisingly gentle. “You’re, uh, you're freaking out again.”

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. Nathan’s heart clenched. He wanted to help, but he had no idea how. He awkwardly patted your shoulder, the gesture stiff and unpracticed. “It’s… okay. You’ll be okay.”

But you weren’t okay, and his words didn’t seem to help. Your breathing got worse, and Nathan felt a wave of panic himself. He hated seeing you like this, so vulnerable and scared. He wanted to do more, but he didn’t know how. He felt a knot tie in his chest, he wasn't used to feeling helpless.

After what felt like an eternity, you started to calm down, your breaths becoming more even. Nathan sat beside you, feeling like he’d failed. He was supposed to protect you, but he couldn’t even do that right.

The next day, Nathan found himself in Pickles’ room. The drummer was lounging on his bed, sipping a beer and flipping through a nude magazine. He looked up as Nathan entered, raising an eyebrow.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost or somethin’.”

Nathan shifted uncomfortably, his massive frame towering in the doorway. “Uh, I need your help. With, uh… with something personal.”

Pickles sat up, intrigued. “Yeah? What’s goin’ on?”

“It’s about (Y/N),” Nathan began, his voice gruff with uncertainty. “They’ve got this… anxiety thing. Really bad. I don’t know how to help them.”

Pickles nodded slowly, setting his beer aside. “Yeah, anxiety’s a bitch. What happened?”

Nathan explained the previous night, his frustration evident. “I tried to help, but I think just made it worse. I don’t know what to do.”

Pickles thought for a moment, then spoke carefully. “Okay, here’s what ya gotta do. First, don’t try to fix it. Just be there for ‘em. Hold their hand, let ‘em know you’re there. Sometimes that’s all they need.”

Nathan listened intently, nodding along. “What else?”

“If they’re havin’ a panic attack, help ‘em breathe. Deep breaths, slow and steady. It’s all about gettin’ their body to calm down. And don’t freak out, ‘cause that’ll just make it worse.”

Nathan absorbed Pickles’ advice, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Okay. I’ll try that... thanks.”

“No problem, dude,” Pickles said with a smile. “Just remember, you care about ‘em. That’s the most important part.”

A few days later, it happened again. You were on the verge of a panic attack, your breathing erratic and your hands trembling. Nathan felt the familiar surge of helplessness, but he remembered Pickles’ advice.

He sat down beside you, his presence solid and grounding. “Hey, (Y/N),” he said awkwardly, taking your hand in his. “I’m, uh, here. I’m not going... anywhere.”

You squeezed his hand, your grip tight with fear. Nathan could feel your anxiety, but he didn’t let it show. He focused on keeping his own breathing steady, hoping you’d follow his lead.

“Breathe with me,” he said, his voice a low rumble. “In… and out. Look, like I am.”

You tried to match his breathing, your breaths shaky at first. Nathan kept his eyes on you, his hand warm and steady in yours. It took time, but gradually, your breathing slowed, your body relaxing bit by bit.

“You’re doing... good,” Nathan muttered, still unsure of himself. “Just, uh, keep breathing.”

It wasn’t perfect, and he was still incredibly awkward. His movements were stiff, and his words came out clumsily. But he stayed by your side, doing his best to help you through it. You could see the effort he was putting in, and it meant the world to you.

As the panic attack subsided, you leaned back against the couch, your body feeling heavy with exhaustion. Nathan stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours, though he was unsure if he should let go. His brow was furrowed with concern, and he seemed more uncomfortable with the aftermath of the situation than he did during the attack itself.

“Are... are you okay now?” he asked, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks, Nathan.”

He shifted awkwardly, finally releasing your hand and rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t do much,” he mumbled. “Just tried not to fuck up.”

“You didn’t,” you assured him, offering a small smile. “It helped a lot just having you here.”

Nathan grunted in response, his usual way of acknowledging something without making a big deal out of it. He got up from the couch and grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen, handing it to you.

“Here. Drink this.”

You took the bottle, appreciating the gesture. “Thanks.”

He nodded and sat back down, the room falling into a comfortable silence. Nathan wasn’t good with words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was there for you, and that was enough.

[monsterswithimagines]

Idk if you do requests but if you do can you do a Nathan Young x reader thats angsty (maybe when he dies in series 1 episode 6) and then ends in fluff? if you dont do requests sorry for the bother!

Resurrection blues

Nathan Young x Reader

A/n: you want angst, anon? I'll give you angst. Draaaamaaaaaa. Wordcount: 1.8k-ish

Masterlist

~

When you’d started community service, you never could have imagined it would lead you here.

Digging up your friend’s grave in the middle of the day.

You didn’t want to be doing this–didn’t want to believe there could be any real purpose behind it. There may have been that note saying to come here, and Kelly may have thought she’d heard Nathan’s thoughts, but it simply wasn’t possible.

Nathan was dead. You’d watched him fall off the roof of the community center, had watched him get impaled on that fence. The others hadn’t seen it–not really. They’d all been under some kind of mind control but you… You’d been standing on the roof with him, earbuds in your ears to keep out that weird chick’s control.

You’d watched Nathan desperately try to cling on to Simon’s hand, had watched him fall, then his last twitches of life. You’d seen his lips struggle on a strangled gasp as he fought, impossibly, to stay alive against all odds, with Barbie Girl blasting in your ears, a great song forever ruined.

And then you’d seen the light leave his eyes.

You hadn’t been able to sleep since.

Nathan was gone. Digging him up was useless. It was a violation. But if the others were going to do it, you were sure as hell going to be here.

It seemed to take forever until Curtis’s shovel finally thumped against the casket, and it took all of your combined strength to lift said casket out of the reopened grave. It was a good thing the churchyard was empty today.

Curtis lifted the lid off the coffin, and then there he was.

Nathan.

He was pale. Sickly-looking. Pretty much what you imagined a corpse looked like before it started decomposing. He was wearing the jacket he always wore and one of his favorite T-shirts. One you’d seen him wear often.

You didn’t allow yourself to feel the heartbreak. Not all over again.

“He’s dead,” you pointed out, your voice sounding hollow even to your own ears.

“I heard ‘im,” Kelly insisted. “I think he was knocking one out.”

So now she was not only making you all desecrate Nathan’s grave, but she was also saying he was wanking inside his coffin. Which, okay, that did sound like him, but still.

“That does sound like him,” Simon said, as if he was the mind reader instead of Kelly.

“Maybe you just wanted to hear him,” Alisha said, sounding sympathetic. “But Kel, he’s gone.”

Kelly shook her head and leaned forward, frowning.

And then Nathan sat up and began to scream.

You screamed, too, grabbing onto Simon, who had gone stiff. Alisha was also yelling, and Curtis took several steps backward, exclaiming: “what the fuck!”

Needless to say, you were all well freaked out.

Nathan laughed, not quite managing to stop as he sputtered: “you should see the looks on your faces.” He took a deep breath, finally getting control of himself. “Classic!” He became serious suddenly, or faked it very well as he looked around at you all. “Hey, guess what? I’m immortal.” He grinned wide. “Can you believe this shit?”

He began to stand, which didn’t seem to be too easy for him.

“I told you all I had a power.”

Then, his eyes fell on you, and whatever words he’d wanted to add to his weird little revival monologue seemed to die on his lips.

You’d barely heard a word he’d said. You were gaping at him. Your heart was hammering in your throat.

This wasn’t possible. Nathan was dead. You had watched him die. You had– You had–

You bolted, never responding when your friends called your name.

-

You hadn’t really allowed yourself to cry since Nathan had died.

You’d cried when it happened, but since then your eyes had been bone dry. Instead, you’d turned your heartbreak–the one you’d realized right at the moment he had died was there because you loved him–into anger. Because he was a stupid bastard. Because he’d gone and made you feel things and then he’d died.

But now, as you slammed the front door of your flat closed behind you, you cried. Big, wailing sobs as you fell to your knees in the middle of your living room, wrapping your arms around yourself and rocking back and fort.

You didn’t even know what, exactly, you were crying about. Nathan was alive! Kelly had been right after all.

But you couldn’t stop.

You couldn’t stop picturing those last struggling twitches before he’d died, either.

You raked your hands through your hair, then pulled at it as if it would somehow get your brain to cease throwing those images at you.

You had no idea how long you sat there.

-

In hindsight, you’d probably begun to have feelings for Nathan on the very first day of community service, when he’d proudly declared he ‘was just done for eating some pick ‘n mix.’ Or maybe it had been sometime during the second or third week, when you’d been smoking together on your break and he’d nudged your shoulder lightly as he was making a joke–because even though it was about how your laugh was too loud, he wanted you to know he didn’t mean it and that you were in on the teasing.

But you hadn’t realised it then. You hadn’t realised it last week, either. Not even when you’d invited him around for tea and he had somehow managed to insult and compliment your cooking at the same time, then been weirdly nice to you all evening.

And then Nathan had gone and died, and all those feelings had crashed into you like a tidal wave.

Only now he was alive, and standing outside your front door at two am, because apparently the second thing he had thought to do after telling his mum that he was immortal was to come and check on you, or so he explained after you opened the door.

You blinked owlishly at him.

“Well?” Nathan asked. “Aren’t you going to let me in? It’s cold as balls out here.”

He was wearing different clothes, you noted. He looked like he’d showered. But he still looked tired and almost sick. You wondered whether that had more to do with dying, or with being inside a coffin for an entire weekend.

Oh, God, he’d been stuck in there an entire weekend.

“Okay,” Nathan said. “This is kinda awkward. Are ya just gonna keep staring at me?”

“Sorry,” you said, and stepped aside to let him through the door.

After you’d come home and had your little breakdown, you’d sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, but then you hadn’t really watched it. You hadn’t realised it had gotten so late, either. Not until there was a knock at your door.

It was the same way you’d been since the funeral, until going to community service this morning.

Nathan looked around.

“Wow, did you fire your cleanin’ lady?”

You didn’t respond. You weren’t in the mood for jokes.

You went to turn off the TV, then realised that made the room too dark and turned on the overhead light. Nathan shielded his eyes against the glare. But once his eyes adjusted, he looked at you once more.

You took a deep breath.

“You just ran off, earlier,” Nathan said before you could speak, sounding surprisingly earnest. “I was worried.”

You opened your mouth to answer. Closed it again.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything?” Nathan asked.

“Like what?” you managed to croak.

“Like, ‘oh, Nathan, I’m so glad you’re alive! Let’s go have a celebratory shag!’” He looked at you and frowned when you didn’t react. “No?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t need to be all dramatic about that,” Nathan said, rolling his shoulders. “That’s the past, y’know?”

“I thought you–”

Oh, this was not good.

Nathan’s face crumpled as you began to cry, and he rushed into your space, attempting to wipe your tears away.

“Hey, no no no!” he rushed out. “We’re not doing any of that, okay? I’m here. I’m fine, see? You can even punch me if that makes you feel bette– Ow!”

No, punching him did not make you feel better, but you kept at it anyway.

“I thought you were dead, you fucking wanker!” you screamed, slamming your fists into his chest over and over in blind rage. Nathan attempted to catch your wrists and finally, you let him. “Never do that again,” you told him. “Never, ever–”

He kissed you.

Your brain short-circuited.

You didn’t kiss him back, but you didn’t move away either. Finally, when Nathan pulled back, you just looked up at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Did I just fuck up?” was what he settled on.

You shook your head.

“Down there in that coffin,” Nathan told you. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I…–” you began, but trailed off. You’d already said you’d thought he was dead several times. What else was there to say?

“I’m really tired,” Nathan said, letting go of your wrists and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” you said before you could think about it.

Nathan seemed to hesitate.

“I mean, you can sleep here,” you clarified. “Instead of at the community centre. If you… want.”

Nathan seemed to think for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“Look, I’m no good at this…” he paused, “serious… girl… stuff and… feelings ‘n shit. I fancy you!” he blurted out this last bit.

For the first time in days, you actually sort of chuckled.

“Thanks,” you said. “Very romantic.”

“Oh, I’m an incredibly romantic man. Can’t you tell?”

You snorted. He smiled.

“That’s better. No more crying, okay?”

“Dickhead.”

“Ouch! You’re hurtin’ my feelings,” Nathan said, pressing a hand to his chest mockingly. “And on this, the day of my resurrection!”

“It’s, like, two am.”

“And on this, the day after my resurrection!”

You shook your head, smiling. But then, you pressed the palms of your hands against your eyes. You had a headache from all the crying, and you still couldn’t unsee Nathan impaled on that fence.

But…

You looked up at him again, and he smiled uncertainly at you.

He was here now. Alive.

“Will you stay?” you pressed.

“Okay. Sure,” Nathan said, almost sweetly. Almost. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Less than an hour later, after a lot of awkward hemming and hawing, you and Nathan lay in bed, both on your sides and facing each other.

And finally, after what felt like days of torture, you fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[lol-jackles]

Since you’re in casting, I’d love to pick your brain a little about selecting actors. I love that Jared is a constantly rising star, but in the most loving way possible, he really isn’t the best actor. 80% of the time when I’m watching him, it feels like I’m watching someone acting. He’s not the most natural Versus someone whose performance I get lost in. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to watch everything he does, and it kind of seems standard for cable network TV (for example, I feel the same ways about Nathan Fillion, David Boreanaz, Matthew Daddario - but it doesn’t make me like them any less). Honestly, the only network TV show they didn’t make me feel that was is Hannibal, and even that was only the leading actors.

I would have assumed that acting ability would be the most important part, but your page has made me realize it’s more than that, and let’s be honest, Vampire Diaries wouldn’t haven’t gotten that far if acting was the most important skill set needed. I’m guessing for the Jared’s and David’s their entire history counts most, but what about for someone just getting hired - the Jared getting the Gilmore Girl’s role or the David getting the Angel role. If they’re acting seems…stiff (wrong word?) what makes a casting director say, ‘you know what, let’s give it to them anyway.’

It’s just such a hard world to break into and I’m guessing there are auditions from people with a little more natural talent, so what makes that final decision?

(Asking as someone who is about to start the audition process)

I think what Jared (and Nathan, David, etc) has doing for him is he acts from his authentic truth. I'll expand on it later in this post. With that said, Jared is a character actor trapped in a leading man role, it's why he's not the "best actor" because people tend to believe that good character actors disappear into their roles by diminishing their screen presence, which you can't do when you're a leading man. You may be picking up on this conflicting issue. Think of Brad Pitt who works best as a supporting actor (X), and struggles a bit as a leading man so he has to throw out nuances and reply more on his raw charisma.

I haven't seen Gilmore Girls but I read Jared was the 2nd or 3rd Dean. Dean was recast because the OG Deans' chemistry with Rory wasn't up to snuff. So that answer your "final decision" question, which is chemistry. David Boreanaz had good chemistry with Sarah Michelle Geller. His chemistry Emily Deschanel in Bones was fine, bordering on good, but it was more fun/odd couple vibe whereas his interaction with Michelle had depth. Whenever Jared and Jensen tell their chemistry audition story in front of the producers, I'm pretty sure they're leaving out that Jared likely had chemistry auditions with other various Dean actors.

My advice on auditions is walk into that room like you’re going to solve their problem. 

Most casting directors talk about wanting auditioning actors to "make bold choices" because they believe it will get in touch with their authentic self and therefore, make them a captivating performer. My advice is adjust the text to your authentic emotion so that you're reacting to the events of the story from your internal truth. It doesn’t matter if the story is a sci-fi, comedy, or a period piece drama: if we don’t believe the actors, we won’t care what happens to them in the story. The audience is an incredible lie-detector: the average person has, for their entire life, been storing countless passive data on how normal people react to various situations, so you can’t fool them.  

My CD used to say that it's easier to tell the truth on camera than it is to lie because once you believe in yourself, then you're not acting anymore. I don't 100% agree with her but that seems to be what most CDs think.

The more confidently you use yourself as a canvas and let the context of the scene speak through your own emotional repertoire and point of view, the more compelling and interesting you are to watch. The most interesting or captivating actor is the one whose next movement, facial expression, or line reading is unpredictable. That's the difference between Jeff Bridges (unpredictable) and Beu Bridges (reliable).

[junkh3ad]

Which Dethklok member can give the best hugs? Personally I think Nathan wins in my opinion.

I did this for all of them, but my first original answer was Nathan. I, as per usual got carried away.

so i absolutely agree with you there, Nathan’s a big guy, you KNOW his hugs are the best. Warm and soft. He might be weird at showing his affection, but his hugs are warm and comforting and they feel safe. I think cuddling with nathan would be the same, he’s warm (practically a space heater) and his hold on you is so strong that you never worry about feeling unsafe.

i’m bias but i also think Pickles would, he seems to be someone who hasn’t had much physical affection in his life so i think the hugs he DOES give are long and very loving. If you cuddle up with him he’ll hold you all through the night, his grip never going away.

I think Murderface would originally hate hugs, he’d avoid them at any cost but eventually. eventually he gives in to your demands for a hug. He’s stiff but he likes it, and over time he’ll become more affectionate too! he’s not a big fan of cuddling but…maybe that’ll change with some time too.

Skwisgaar is aloof at first. Hell sling an arm around you and think that’s enough at first until you tell him that actually it’s not enough. Once he gets with the program though, his hugs are strong and secure. He’s protective, and he’s always got an arm around you after your conversation. He won’t admit it, but you cuddled up to him in bed makes him happy, and you’d eventually wake up with his arm holding you close to him as he slept.

Toki LOVES hugs. He’s practically always trying to hug you, pulling you onto his lap so he could hold you. a hand on your lower back when you guys are out so he’s constantly touching you in one way or another. He craves the attention, and you provide because you love it. He’s also big on cuddles, but he likes to be held. strong man, but he’s the little spoon.

[watsittoyah]

Prayers From A Sinner- Dick Grayson x Blk Fem Reader

Warnings-Sexual content, and adult content. Toxic behavior, enemies to lovers? Oral sex, slight rough sex, drug use, violent behavior.

I do want to let everyone know that this story will have dark themes. It’ll be erratic at times and the main characters morals will be tested. There will be foul language and lots of descriptions of acts of violence and other uncomfortable subjects. If those themes aren’t for you, I won’t feel any way about it and you don’t have to continue. But for those who decides to stay and read, thank you, I’ll do my best making this story…interesting and entertaining.

Chapter 1 - Thou Shall Not Kill…

“Dear God, I know we haven’t spoken in ten years, but…I know you listen. Even to sinners like me. I know I won’t make it to those pearly gates but you please please save her. My mothers faith has never wavered, she always speak so highly of you. Just…don’t take away the one person who loves me.” You pray as you knees at the alter.

The sentiments were soon gone when you felt a shadow beside you. You open your eyes and turn to face him. “You shouldn’t be here.” The reverend says glaring at you. You kiss your fingertips and proceed to tell the good lord amen and then you look back at the Reverend.

“What? Can’t sinners come to church and pray too?” You ask in an innocent tone. “You know God won’t be listening to your prayers, you little demon.” He hisses at you which only gets a rise out of you. You rise from off of your knees and lean in.

“Tell me, reverend…do you still get those urges?” His glaring shakes a bit as he knows what you’re asking. “You need to leave, now Miss Price.” He tells you ignoring your question. “Oh but Rev, I was just asking do you still get those urges? Especially when you do communion? Do you get a stiff one when you have the men open their mouths when they eat that cracker?”

“I said get out!” He snaps causing you to laugh in his face. You wipe the tear from your eye and pat his arm. “Don’t worry, Reverend Jones. I was only teasing. But if you ever want to settle those urges you know where to come. I got the best boys that’ll satisfy you better than the misses. Just remember I won’t tell if you don’t.” You wink at him and motion for your three body guards to follow you outside of the church.

“Church people are so judgement.” You tell Nathan, your best guy. “That’s why I’m atheist.” You laugh and he helps you down the stairs while Marc gets the truck ready and Jake holds your umbrella.

You stop mid step and sigh. “Hold on, boys. I’ve got company.” You turn and right in the shadows you see him. “I’ll be back.” You pluck the umbrella from Marc and continue down the steps.

“But Miss Price-” You turn to Nathan and give him a look that makes him back down. “I’ll be fine, now don’t hover you know I hate when you do that.” You walk away from him and you walk down the alleyway, and stand in the slight moon light.

“You know you’re not your daddy, Richie Rich. Come out so I can see you.” You say with a slight smirk on your lips. Dick Grayson had stepped out of the shadows but he wasn’t wearing his stupid getup.

No he was dressed differently. Hell he stood differently, and he was more filled out than the last time you saw him. But things change in six years. “What are you doing here, Victoria? I thought it was clear that you were never to come back here in Gotham.”

You cock your head to the side at him. Clearly his attitude hasn’t changed.

“That’s rude, normally when you greet an old friend you ask them how they’ve been and what they’ve been up to.”

“We’d have to be friends for me to ask that.” He steps up close to you and you smile. “Awe, Richie Rich that hurt my feelings. Now kiss my lips and make the pain go away.” You say as you lean in.

But he moves back from you and leans against the wall. “Why are you here?” He asks again. “I have business to take care of here, since you’re so concerned. Now where is Batman? Is he still around?” You ask looking past him.

Dick looks at you and you see the sadness in his masked face. “I heard about your mother. I’m sorry-” You raise your hand and stop him. “Don’t be sorry, people die all the time. It just happens to be my moms name on the reapers list.” You say in a cold tone.

“You know that I can talk to some people. See if she can get better treatment.” You laugh in his face. “What you don’t think I haven’t done that? You don’t think I haven’t tried to buy more time for her? I have thrown enough money at these so called doctors, and all they’ve told me was she has no time! She is dying! And I can’t do a fucking thing for her! You and I both know she doesn’t deserve this, she’s one of the good ones in this dump of a city. And I have to watch her leave me!”

Dick walks over to you and he hugs you as you feel your shoulders shake. “I’m here for you, you know that right, Victoria?” Dick makes you look at him and you give a nod. “I know. I just-I hate crying. God damnit.” You wipe the tears and Dick kisses your head.

“You…you can’t stay here in Gotham. You have too many warrants and you’re a target.” You shake off his embrace and glare at him. “You think I give a fuck about that right now? You insensitive bastard!” You go to slap him but he catches your wrist and he sighs.

“Don’t take your anger out on me. I know you’re hurt. I know you want to lash out just to make yourself feel better. But I just want you to be safe. You know I care about you.” He tells you as you oddly become calm.

“If you want me to feel better then, make me feel better. This suit looks good on you. Makes your shoulders look more broad. And you smell good. I bet you still taste good.” You start to press up against him and you cup the front of him making him flustered a bit. “Victoria, I can’t. We can’t.”

“Are you scared of me, Dick? I promise I’ll be a good girl for you. I won’t leave bruises like last time. I’ll even let you leave some down my throat.” You press him against the wall and as you go to kiss him he stops you and he holds you still.

“No, I said no and I mean that.” Your eyes get low and you step off. “Fine, I won’t press my luck. I apologize.” You say in a monotoned voice. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you want to talk. Maybe we can-” You turn on your heel ignoring him and you feel him follow you. As he reaches out to you, you snatch your arm back and point to the siren noises.

“Superman ain’t here so get to it Robin.” You spit at him as you walk towards your truck. You don’t even look back as you step inside. You just toss the umbrella and glare out the window.

“Marc, take me to Spades. Miss Molly is getting a bit dull and I want to show her off.” You tell him as Nathan and Jake both sit quietly. “Sure thing boss.”

••••

“Watch the doors fellas.” You tell Marc and Nathan as you step into the strip club. You see ass and bare breasts all around. You see a great amount of men, all salivating at the women dancing for them and you yawn. You take off your fur and Jake takes it for you while you walk towards the vip section. You feel eyes on you and but no one catches your attention like he does.

There was something about Dick Grayson that made you get into this mood. You never let your emotions go like this, you were a pro at bottling them up, but old Richie Rich just knew how to break that bottle and make you pour.

You knew he could bring out the best side of you, he could help you with your attitude and you’d be an upright citizen. But why would you want that? You’ve left far too many dead bodies in your wake. And you didn’t want to scrape for pennies ever again.

You’ve made a name for yourself and you liked the fear it invoked in others.

So that is why you needed a distraction, you didn’t want to think about him anymore. So you eyed the male dancers. One had a very large bulge as he moved his hips to the slow yet low base beat song. You two made eye contact and you take a crisp one hundred dollar bill out.

“You’re cute, what’s your name?” He gets on his knees and he crawls over to you. “Nicholas, but you can call me yours, pretty lady.” He accepts the money from you and you smile, looking at his pretty tan skin and his pretty white teeth.

“I think I’ll keep you. You wanna come home with me, Nicky?” His deep brown eyes seems to look a bit panicked and you gently place your well manicured nail under his chin. “Don’t be scared. Trust me, I’m all bark.” You flirt as you stare into his eyes.

His pupils dilate which causes you to smirk. But suddenly you feel someone behind you. “Now this looks like a party.” You smell cheap scotch and you turn, seeing Jake grab the strangers shoulder but you shake your head and he backs off.

“Nicky, go get us a room and wait there for me.” You pass him another one hundred and he gladly takes it and nods. “I’ll be waiting pretty lady.” He leaves off the stage and walks away, you look at his ass and you sigh.

“Come on, baby can’t I watch?” The cheap scotch drinker asks. With a swift move you take out your rose gold beretta that was secured to your thigh under your dress. You placed it under his chin and as soon as he heard the click, he sobered up quite quickly.

“Wa-” You shake your head at him. “I thought you said you wanted to watch? Well I don’t think you’ll want to watch that pretty boy eat my pussy out. I bet you’ll want to watch some girl on girl action? Well let me introduce you to miss Molly. Ain’t she pretty? She packs a mighty blow and I’m sure you’d want to watch that right?”

“N…no. Please don’t kill me.” You raise a brow at him. “I’m really a nice lady, now if I recall I asked you a question. Answer it. Isn’t Molly pretty?” The man stutters out a yes and you smile.

You pat his cheek and rub the barrel against his lips. “I think, everyone should meet Miss Molly. Now stand there and be quiet while I introduce her.” You move the gun from his lips and you shoot three shots in the air, scaring the hell out of all the patrons in the club.

The music comes to a holt and you blow the smoke from your gun. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I want to introduce my little friend named Molly, and I wanted to reintroduce myself. I am Vic Price. You may have heard of me, and if not then let me remind you who I am. First things first, I am not someone to fuck with. Okay? I will shoot you and then go out for ice cream because I feel like it. Secondly, I know a lot of you in here are my enemies main men, let your bosses know I don’t give a fuck about the targets. I’m out for blood and I’m ready to spill it. And lastly, does anyone know this guy?” You point to the scotch drinker and just about everyone in the place shakes their heads.

“Good, this is a lot easier for me.” Without hesitation you shoot the man in his face and his blood as well as brain matter splatters against the stage. You step up closer to his fallen body and you shoot him in his mouth as well. A few girls scream and a few people scramble to the door but they stop as they see Nathan and Marc.

“Here you go boss.” Jake hands you a handkerchief and you wipe your gun clean and place it back on your person. “Jake you’re the best, and because you are the best please explain to the lovely folks in the room, why I shot that man in his face and his jaw.”

“Miss Price here shot that sack of shit in the face, because she doesn’t want him to be recognized by the Gotham police. And she also shot him in his jaw just so he can’t be identified by his dental records. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Price simply shot him because she was in the middle of a conversation with someone. I don’t know about you lot but I wouldn’t want to fuck with this lady.”

You clap as you laugh. “I love this guy! Now where is the owner of this fine establishment?” You scan the room and Jake points to the chubby man trying to run back stage. “Grab him.” You order.

He moves quickly and grabs the man. “Hey le…let me go!” Jake tosses him at your feet and the man looks up at you scared.

“I don’t want any problems. I respect your father and-” You bend down close to his ear and whisper something only he could hear.

“You know my old man? Please let him know his baby girl is back in town and she’s coming for what she’s owed. And if you don’t tell him, I will shoot your little pecker off and make you eat the rest. Do you understand?”

He nods quickly and you smile. “Good boy. You know what, I’m going to stay in Gotham for a while and I think I’m going to take this place off of your hands. You don’t mind right?”

“I can’t do that-” You stomp your stiletto down on his hand and he gives out a cry. “What was that?” You ask. “It’s yours! It’s yours Miss Price.” You remove your pointed heel and you look back at the crowd.

“Spades is under new management! Ladies and gentlemen all the tips tonight belongs to you. As for the rest of you that have came in to pay? Tip my people well, I’ll be making more change’s tomorrow! Jake, you make sure you keep these people from bothering me. I have a new pet to break in. Oh and one more thing, cut that cheap scotch drinking bastards hands off and drop them somewhere no one can find them.” He smiles wide and nods. “You got it boss.”

You walk down to the vip room and you lean against the door frame as you knock. Nicholas opens the door and he looks spooked. “Were those a gun shots?” He asks as he looks past you.

You place your hand on his toned chest and you move him back into the room. “Don’t worry about those loud noises, Nicky. I took care of that. Now come dance for me.” You say as you look into his brown eyes.

He gives a slight smile and he leads you to a chair. You sit down and he moves close to you and he places your hands on his abs, as well as his thighs.

“You wanna be my special friend, Nicky?” You ask as you move your hands from him and place them on the hem of your dress. “All depends…what are the benefits of being your special friend?” He asks as he eyes your body.

“You get access to me, you get spoiled. And I do love spoiling my friends. And most of all you get to have the best sex in your life. I’ll fuck you so good, you’ll see God and the devil at the same time. How’s that sound?” You ask as you raise your heel and he takes it, letting his soft hands rub down your calf. “That sounds amazing, but why me?” He asks as he unclasps your heel and he rubs your pretty black painted toes.

You let out a giggle. “Because I like that bulge you have in those skimpy little shorts, and because your eyes remind me of someone. They look…kind.” Nicholas smiles at that and he brings your foot to his lips.

“Can I?” He asks as he kisses the pads of your toes. “Go ahead, let me see you enjoy yourself Nicky.” He sucks your toes and he lets out a soft moan as he licks and suck’s your foot. You rest your head on your chin and you can visibly see he’s getting rock hard.

“That’s enough, Nicky.” You tell him. He gently places your foot down and you hike your dress up past your belly button. “I want to see what else you like sucking on.”

He kneels down and looks up at you. “I..I won’t get in trouble will I?” He asks as he looks down at your freshly waxed brown pussy. “Nah, the new manager here said she’ll let this slide. Come closer, I’m sure you’re hungry after dancing all night.” He leans in and as he grips your thighs he freezes and moves his hand back.

That movement makes you giggle. “Awe, what’s the matter? You don’t like guns?” You ask as you pat Molly. “I..um, I don’t have great experiences with them.”

You cup his chin and move in close as if you’re about to kiss him but you stop. “Well I won’t ever raise Molly to you as long as you don’t make me upset, if you do oh you won’t like that. Now Molly is staying right on my thigh. But you don’t need to be concerned about that. Just pay attention to what’s between my thighs. Now I have two things to tell you. After you give the correct answer we can have fun. Number one…I want you to know I have two main rules. One, you only get to fuck me. If you fuck someone else I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again. And two, I want you to treat me like I am your god. When I enter your presence, worship me. When I walk past you, hunger for me to come to you. Do you understand?” He nods but you grip his chin. “Answer me.”

“Y…yes pretty lady.” You let go and you place your hand on top of his head and move his face between your legs. “Now answer this for me as well. Do you have full understanding on how to eat pussy?” You hear him inhale the scent of your sex and he lets out a moan. “Yes, yes I do pretty lady.”

“Call me Vic, and I’m so happy to hear that. Now take that delicious looking clit of mine, move the hood back and lick it with just the tip of your tongue.” He does what he’s told and you lean your head back as you feel him lick circles around your clit.

“Such a good boy you are. You’re going to be my favorite. Now go ahead and suck.” You push his head deeper between your legs and you let out a soft moan as he sucks your clit hungrily.

Even though you know it’s Nicholas between your legs, your mind still wonders to Dick. In your mind he was the one licking you out and making you wet on the seat.

“It’s so good to be home…”

Next

[tokiwarcube]

Hugging Dethklok is...

Just some little headcanons on what it would be like to hug the boys (+Charles) when you're having a rough time.

Hugging Charles is…

Warm. There’s a lot of things in this world Charles can fix… and many that he can’t, loathe as he is to admit it. It’s what he does, after all. He makes things right. So when the world is crashing down upon you, it pains him beyond belief to know that he can’t just fix what ails you. But little does he know, he still lightens the burden just by being him. You’d think him stiff and unsure, but after so long of knowing you, the comfort seems to come easier. He’s good at giving advice when needed, but it’s nothing compared to the way he holds you — firm yet soothing as he runs his hand comfortingly along your upper arm, before kneading tender circles into your shoulder. Stable. Steady. Even when things look bleak, he exudes such a warm, patient presence that, even if only for the moment, makes things more bearable.

Hugging Nathan is…

Safe. He doesn’t give hugs often, but when he does, he does a good job at making you feel protected. From the world. From yourself. From all the suffocating black clouds of fear and anxiety that threaten to choke you, and leave you dead where you stand. He doesn’t really know how to talk you through whatever it is that you’re struggling with, but that’s okay — sometimes the silence is better, anyways. Strong arms wrapped around your form like a shield against that all that plagues you, steady heartbeat beneath your head narrowing your thoughts onto that singular sound… He wishes he could make things better for you with a wave of his hand, but not all problems are so easy. Until then, this is enough.

Hugging Pickles is…

Familiar. You’ve spent so many days and nights in each others’ embrace that when things get rough, you hardly even have to ask. There’s an odd thing that comes with grief — the constant well-wishes and special treatment, which appreciated in some respects, sometimes just makes things feel… worse. Alienating. A perpetual reminder that things aren’t what they should be, right now. But Pickles is different. You can talk about it if you want to, sure, but if you don’t? He can just hold you for now — content to simply be with you, unwavering in his place in your life. The familiarity of it helps detract a bit from the aching reminder of the unfamilar. If you want him to hold you tighter, or talk, or shut up… just say the word. He’s there for you.

Hugging Skwisgaar is…

Feeling seen. Skwisgaar struggles with a lot of things in this realm — giving affection, receiving affection, talking about fears and pain and sadness… so frankly, he doesn’t. Not unless it’s you — by you, for you. He’s all gangly limbs and simmering insecurity, but for you, he tries. So when he pulls you to his chest, long arms curled around your middle as he rubs tender circles against your skin, you know he’s truly, truly there for you. Not out of obligation, or as a half-assed attempt at placating you — He would never push himself so far out of his comfort zone if he didn’t truly want to help lighten your burden. When he hums little affirmations, you know he’s actually listening: He may not know exactly what to say, but he makes you feel heard. Seen. He may not have all of the solutions to what you’re going through, but the simple fact that he’s here, unwavering in his love even when he doesn’t know just how to express it, is enough.

Hugging Toki is…

Secure. Toki is no stranger to affection, but when you really need it, he pours every ounce of love he can into the gesture. Sometimes you forget how strong he is — in every sense of the word, really — until you’re pressed against him like his. Hugging Toki has always made you feel safe, but in times like this, he makes you feel secure, too. Secure in the way of knowing that the horrors of the world aren’t going to keep you down forever. Secure in the way of knowing that you’re not going to go through this alone. Do you want to talk about it? He’ll listen to every word you have to say, chiming in when he can, and placing little kisses to your temple when he can’t. His mustache presses against your skin so familiarly when he does, and it’s then that you know that you won’t have to go through this alone.

Hugging William is…

A promise. There’s a lot of things William missed out on in life — chiefly that of comfort. So in some respects, you’d think he’d be unsure of how to give it — and perhaps that isn’t entirely inaccurate. But he dreamt often of such gestures, a sort of guilty pleasure if you will… so while he might not be certain of the perfect way to help, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he pours every ounce of love that he can into the gesture when you need it the most. And oh, does it ever show — he drops his voice into a half-whisper as he whispers little affirmations, of how it’ll be okay, how you’re going to get through this, how you’re not alone. And anyone could say these things, sure, but from him? They sound like they really could be true — not generic nothings, but actual promises. And with how close he holds you, how warmly he speaks, how much physical warmth he seems to exude… you start to believe him.