#darksiders war/reader
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Was trying to doodle something, but it didn't come out right. So here, have it in writing form instead. Forgib any spelling mistakes or whatnot, it's quick and dirty.
No warnings, just comforting fluff with War.
Strife paces around three or so meters from War, watching intently as the youngest horsemen sits firmly idle. He's been getting quite sick of Strife's incessant pacing, and looks at at him with a heavy set glare when he comes closer again. Strife is talking a bluestreak within moments.
"Come on man, I promise I won't even wake her up you just gotta m-"
After what has felt like hours to Strife, War finally speaks up in a hushed tone. His brow is even more furrowed than usual.
"Cease your incessant yaping," He hisses the rest of his sentence. "You will wake her."
Strife clenches his hands and resists the urge to groan dramatically. Meanwhile you adjust in War's lap, slotted comfortable against his chest as you sleep. They don't quite know if something had upset you, or hurt you in some way, but for now, you seemed to have calmed enough to fall asleep.
And much to Strife's dismay, you'd done so on his younger brother and not him; Despite War being the stuffy no nonsense, no emotion Horsemen. Why you'd want anything to do with Horsemen of no fun allowed is beyond him.
Though War has apparently taken his new duty as massive Nephilim heater and bed combination quite seriously, if his cape being wrapped firmly around your shoulders has any indicator. His right hand rests on your upper back, as your head lays against his chest. His chin just barely brushes against the top of your head. Your hands gently grip him, long strands of white hair weaving between your small fingers.
He has a small- at least compared to him- human on his lap snuggling him, and the Nephilim still has the same stern, grumpy face he always does.
"Find something else to entertain yourself." Strife glares at the red rider.
"Weren't you the one who was all 'why are you wasting your time with humans' not long ago?"
War slowly pulls one arm away from you, and begins reaching for Chaoseater, which is laid centimeters away against the wall. Strife backs up and raises his hands.
"Fine fine! I'll go."
Finally having managed to chase the gunslinger away, War looks down at you to confirm you are indeed still asleep.
Not a peep from you. Just the gentle whistling of your breaths.
His hand gently rests back on your shoulderblades, and you shift a little bit into him.
War's never been good at emotions. So when you wake up, he'll be hard pressed to say more than a few words about this. If someone hurt you? He can just threaten them, that's easy. Anything else, not so much. But if this helps you, he doesn't mind being weighed down for a bit.
#needed some fluff to deal with an absolute shitter of a day so this is it#war x reader#darksiders war x reader#Darksiders/Reader#darksiders x reader#darksiders x you#Darksiders War/Reader#reader insert#reader#mywriting
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In Eden's Heir, Strife's crush comes out in full when he goes into his Anarchy form.
#darksiders#darksiders genesis#War#Strife#Reader#Y/n#Doodles#monster x reader#fluff#Big deadly golden retriever energy#Bride Reader
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SPOILERS FOR STAR WARS
im on revenge of sith and be so serious rn
anakin could eat an orange and he'd go to the darkside. don't grieve your mother. don't care about your wife, destined to die. don't hate people. don't feel anything. your arm is amputated? don't feel pain.
i know being a jedi is important and it'd be cool being the "chosen one" up until the moment my wife is supposed to die and i shouldn't even feel pain. who made these rules because what the fuck? i'd immediately go to the darkside the SECOND someone so much as raises their voice at me because you are being put in your place and i'm willing to give up my sanity for it, too
poor baby can't do anything without being reprimanded. the bane of his existence is about to die and he's supposed to just not care? his mother is tortured and killed and he's supposed to just walk away? hello??????
"don't write in cursive anakin or you'll become the next darth sidious and be seduced by the darkside" peace out im already packing my bags
i also would not care so much if anakin wasn't played by the single most hottest man alive. you just HAD to cast hayden christensen as the villain?
#anakin skywalker#hayden#anakin x reader#hayden christensen#fanfic#star wars#star wars anakin#fandom#sam monroe#anakin fanfiction#anakin imagine#sw anakin#obi wan and anakin#anakin x you#anakin and padme#darkside
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How War gets back into your good graces after an argument:
"Will you help me with my hair?"
*Let's you brush and then braid his hair like the warriors of old. Treats it like it's a favor for you, but he actually enjoys the light contact.*
---
*He doesn't necessarily apologize, especially if the fight was petty, but he will use checking on you as an excuse to speak again.*
"Are you cold/hungry/etc?"
"Do you need any...human things?"
"Should we stop for a while?" or "Is the saddle bothering you?"
---
"You can't not talk to me forever! You'll break this silence eventually!"
Y/n: "The hell I will!"
"You just did!"
Y/n: "That doesn't count, you bastard!"
"You can't resist speaking to me because you enjoy arguing too much!"
Y/n: "Dammit!"
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Hello! Welcome back 😊
Could I request a female reader getting stuck under the mistletoe with War at Christmas dinner and having to explain the tradition of kissing under it to the big guy?
Thank you and Merry Christmas!
Of course! I hope you enjoy this dearie! And happy holidays!
Everything about the Christmas season was great! The scenery blanketed in a fresh, crisp white. The joyous music. The beautiful blinding lights and decorations. Family and friends coming together to enjoy one another's company with eachother. The delicious foods. Watching someone open the gift you picked out from them, receiving gifts no matter how small and just knowing someone thought of you. Everything was amazing.
And it was something you truly wanted to share with the horsemen, War especially. Even if they hadn't ever celebrated or even just understood the meaning behind it! If anything, it made you want to celebrate with them more!
But the one thing you despised about Christmas currently, the one thing you had wished you never put up was the dreaded mistletoe. Why should you have put it up? It wasn't like you were dating any of the horsemen, even if you had thought of a specific younger brother in that light..
Currently being caught under it with none other the the youngest sibling, War, himself was agonizing.
His cute puppy head tilt at your odd reaction of running into you. God it was awful, you could just see yourself now. Red as Rudolph's nose, trying desperately to look at anything but the man standing before you. A fidgeting mess, and you could just hope he couldn't see you were sweating.
You just knew he needed a clue, looking up to the mistletoe praying you had mentioned it to him before. But you obviously hadn't when you could visibly see his confusion worsen. Looking to you as if you were crazy, as if saying "That is just a plant, why would you react this way over something so small and insignificant?" But he thankfully doesn't comment on that.
"Are you alright (Y/n)?" It comes out as a little grunt, but the concern is still evident.
"Y-yes, yes. Just, uh, the mistletoe and all.." As if that would explain anything to the man. Obviously he couldn't get the first hint because he didn't know anything about the tradition.
"What of it? If you're allergic to it, I can toss it away for you." He's already reaching up to get rid of the petty little thing bothering you.
You're tempted to tell him that yes, you are very allergic and want him to whip the evil little plant into the sun, but it doesn't seem fair to lie to him. You sure he'd be pretty unimpressed even from a little lie like that, and it took you so long to get him to have a normal conversation past just grunts and nods.
"No, I'm not allergic, it's apart of the holiday so please leave it up." You need to get a grip. It's just a silly little tradition, it's not like you HAVE to participate in it with him. Even if you'd really like to.
"Then what is the problem?" He's beyond confused, but he does drop his hand from the plant to leave it up.
"Just um.. just a Christmas tradition. It's nothing." You knew very well that wouldn't be the end of the conversation. War was far too curious for his own good.
"Tradition? Of what kind?" And there it is. That curiosity that most certainly killed the cat. Or more accurately you, his curiosity embarrasses you more often then it really should.
"Its just, for us humans, if you get caught under the mistletoe you have to.. Well you have to kiss the other person." Could you get more red? You probably did become more red despite the impossibility of it.
"Would that mean we have to kiss? Why? What is the meaning for it?"
You know it's just because he's curious.. but it almost feels like a rejection. You think you'll hate mistletoe forever after this.
"Well the ancient story I know was to increase the chances of.. marriage.. for a woman. And that if she wasn't kissed, she could still be single next Christmas. With each kiss a berry is removed until there are no more berries.. But uh for more modern day, it's just seen as bad luck not to kiss whomever you ran into under the mistletoe.."
War gives a little hum of acknowledgment, which just furthers your embarrassment. God is it time to go to bed and cry yet?
You keep your head hung from the embarrassment running through you, more then surprised when War lifts your head up by the chin and ducks down to give you a kiss.
It was just a little peck, so fast you barely had time to realize what was happening. Glad to the gods above that you were quick to kiss back despite not being all there before he pulled away.
He gave you a little smile, and man did you wish he always smiled. He looked pretty somehow.
"There. Now you won't have bad luck."
Well now you want to give him more kisses, as many as you could. But from the sound of it, he's doing it so you won't have bad luck, which sucks but at least kissing you wasn't so repulsive he refused to.
"Thank you.."
He just keeps surprising you when he leans down to give you one more before reaching up to tug a berry off and set it in your hand. You're so glad you bought a real mistletoe.
"And now you won't be single next Christmas, and your chances of marriage have increased."
Was he.. hinting he wanted to be with you? Or are you delusional?
"War-"
"Unless you'd prefer to be single. I.. there is no pressure." He was quick to interrupt, he smile deeming just a little.
"I.. I don't want to be single." You give him a smile. Moving to grab onto a piece of his armor, and leaning up. Glad he took the hint and leaned down to give you another kiss. Heaven, this is what it feels like.
He seemed happy when you pulled back, pushing your hair out of your face. "Its dinner time now yes? Would you like to sit? I'll make you a plate since you made dinner."
"Thank you War."
Oh you couldn't be happier, letting him wonder off to make you a plate, and moving to sit down in your spot with a big smile that more than confused the other horsemen. Whom had just shrugged it off, deaming it to just be due to the holidays.
When in reality it was all due to a silly little plant and a big hunk of muscle. Mistletoes just might be your most favorite thing of the Christmas holiday, despite hating them just moments prior.
Although you couldn't help but to feel War felt differently about them, with how heavily he avoided them with you the rest of the night. Or perhaps, he just didn't want you to get stuck under one with anyone else.
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Nightwatch and Nightmares
Summary: war has to take the first half of the night watch on the maker tree,and finds himself with a human companion that leaves him wondering about just how far away in nature nephilim were from humans.
Cw: nightmares, unnamed human female character. (I dont really write x reader)
A/n: this was a gift for @moodymisty, also I have to clarify that I use dashes for dialogue!(my mother tongue is spanish, we use dashes for dialogue,thats just my writing style!). Misty I hope you like it!
He knew strife was going to get him tangled up in something,its strife we're talking about.
Which is how he finds himself keeping watch over the maker tree where all the humans were. He sits the at the edge of the entrance with his sword driven into the bark of the oversized Flora, the night Sky above twinkles with stars as its clear of any clouds.
He doesnt like this- being still and having to wait.
War has done it time and time again for missions,but this? This was different. He could do it- he would do it but he hated it.
Its the middle of the night, he hopes to at least crush a demon head. Instead,what he gets makes itself know with soft steps.
Walking behind him is a human girl,young, she holds on to her clothes as the air is a little chilly. Her eyes seem lost and she seems shaken.
The human sits close to the rider,perhaps because he meant safety and she needed some of that.
War- he didnt understand humans. He understands why he protects them Yes,but the intricacies of the human condition absolutely baffle Him.
--Tis late-- he says under his breath to not startle the girl-- what are you doing awake,human?
His companion pulls her knees to her chest, resting her hands on her lap.-- nightmare.
Light from the moon filters through the massive leaves of the tree,its a mesmerizing sight to behold. Theres Beauty in this destroyed world, a glimmer of hope for the humans.
After a moment of contemplation,war asks-- perhaps you'd like a listening ear? --She shook her head and a harsh wind blows, she shivers and her body shakes-- come closer, lest you freeze to death.
Reluctantly,the girl shuffles closer,enough that his radiating body heat subsides the effects of tbe chilly air on her skin.
--Theyre very vivid-My nightmares I mean-- she murmurs-- I dont want to talk about what it was about- I just want to go back to sleep but I cant shake off that lingering fear- do you guys even get nightmares?
Usually,he'd avoid being seen as weak or vulnerable. But the human was really shaken up and he didnt know what to say-- sometimes, yes.
--I didnt know that- WOW. We're similar in more ways than I thought-- she says absentmindedly, rubbing her palm with her thumb.
Well,that takes him off guard-- similar? Nephilim and human?
The girl shrugged-- well- you can develop bonds with people, your siblings I mean and the makers, too! Thats something important for us humans--she explains-- you can feel things like a sense of duty, or Curiosity. You can create things! Ive seen strife grab pieces of the maker tree and turn them into rustic toys for the kids! We also make stuff!
--Seems you have a point, little one-- he agrees, hes never seen it from that perspective. Now its glaringly obvious to him- how didnt he see it earlier?.
--You guys have a sense of humor too! I mean strifes the best example but ive seen you and fury laugh a little. You guys have troubles and worries like we do- i mean I could Keep going
Without noticing, the human had leaned on the rider for more warmth. Not that War minded,he didnt even feel her weight.
--As interesting as your ideas are human- I rather you save your strength--he states-- perhaps soon sleep Will find you-- then he makes a pause,trying to think the best words-- youre free to stay until you feel better
Yawning,the girl nodds and rubs her eyes-- cool--she wiggles a bit to find a comfortable space to lay on and she folds her arms over her chest. Her eyes feel heavy with sleep-- awesome- yknow? You guys are really good people- I mean yeah you hide behind snarky sarcastic comments but you care about us- so thank you.
He chuckles-- theres a lot you humans dont know about us.
--Yeah but we can tell when someone is good-- she added,a few words slurred-- and you guys are really good
Before he can say anything else,the girl falls asleep quietly. Body relaxing and leaning her whole dead weight on him,he barely even noticed it. But his gauntlet does lay its hand on the human to Keep tjem warm.
--Rest human,ill Keep you safe-- he murmurs before thinking "including from nightmares"
When strife comes by to switch with his youngest brother, War carries the human to a spare bed, not sure where her room was. He makes sure the covers are well laid on her and he takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Humans always looked so heavenly when they rested.
He decides he could get some rest of his own,so the red rider goes to find a quiet,dark corner of the tree to sit on and rest for a few hours. In his mind linger the words of the girl,War wonders just how much humans and nephilim were similar to eachother.
Humans,they really are an interesting thing.
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We got pt 4 of the Kissartfebruary challenge by @violettenouvel finished! Featuring Darksiders once more with War and Siva (Also little Atreyu). Gotta lot of days to catch up on but here's what I have so far!
Day 10 on the first pic, no romance this time. Just an older Siva with her son Atreyu being adorable! Since Mother and son are having a tickle fight, "Laughter" is inevitable.
Second is Day 12, and I quote. "I fill my lungs with the sweetness of your air.....And yet you still have the power to leave me breathless....." Consider this a part two to the pic I did for Day 7 Ravenous with Siva and War. Though a kiss feels like forever, one needs to breathe every once in a while, but even after the fact looking at one another with such longing, it can still leave one "Breathless".
Last is Day 14, and while it doesn't look finished, I am pretty happy with how it looks. The theme was "Anything", so I made one up called Protective. War thought he'd seen it all, but a human being defensive and telling the Watcher off when he tries his daily insults is new....even brings an unknown feeling to his chest as he can only watch with shock. Thinks it's admiration despite the Watcher being more powerful and Siva equally stubborn, could be something more perhaps. I'd imagine the Watcher is equally shocked, but with a quiet fury at the audacity of being called a "Phantasmic pain in the Ass."
Hope ya like and stay tuned
Art, Atreyu and Siva are mine
Kissartfebruary challenge by @violettenouvel
War and Watcher belong to Darksiders franchise
#darksiders original character#darksiders oc#darksiders art#darksiders#darksiders war x oc#war darksiders#darksiders war#war#war x oc#war x siva#war x reader#siva x war#siva atallah#darksiders siva atallah#darksiders siva#siva#darksiders human oc#darksiders human#human survivor#female oc#darksiders watcher#romance#kissartfebruary#kissartfebruarychallenge#kiss art february#kiss art#atreyu#darksiders nephilim#horsemen#proxamina
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𝑾𝑨𝑻𝑪𝑯 𝑰𝑵 𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬
— 𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝒙 (𝑭) 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓! 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 —
────────────────┘
A cantankerous behemoth that treads the path of destruction and chaos in his wake. A rider adorned in the banner of red, his trademark hood, and beneath the darkness of his cowl is the war-enamoured glare of whitened blue. A hue far too complicated for any mortal to comprehend. This bringer of all things conflict, and pursuer of vengeance to a fiery engine that can never be sated, his reluctance towards trusting you is to be expected.
For a Watcher bound to the plating of his gauntlet and deeper into his very soul, can only mean that the Charred Council questions his loyalty to them. Untrusted to go about his tasks, to serve the balance, he is now at the tether of a parasite that will feed and revel in the status of your power over him.
But he learns quickly that you do no such thing. Intend nothing of the sort. You just follow behind him as if it is you who is at his leash. He contemplates your motives in his mind, and you do nothing to invade him there, for that is not yours to pry into. There is much silence to be found between you both and he finds appreciation in the beginning of it all. But there comes a time that his appreciation begins to fester into worry.
Why do you not speak? Why is it that you just watch him?
It is a matter that you’re fascinated by him. A juggernaut of all things chaos, destruction and desolation, in contrast to the vow of his honour; his duty to serve balance and the level of dedication he strives for to make peace for the realms. For one of the four that is known to be fuelled by tempering vengeance and bloodlust, he has a strict code to which he conducts himself to uphold. Duty-bound to his role. You find him a very intriguing rider of the steed known as Ruin. A fitting comrade to his master.
He senses something about you that sets you apart from other watchers, unlike the more obvious telltale signs and oddities, but within the pulsing energy of your shaded body; he feels that there is a sense of commonality between you both.
Yes, much like himself, you are not as ancient as the others. No, you are young. And so, that commonality forges a bond between. You understand the struggles he goes through in being the youngest of his siblings. At times, not taken seriously, and other times he is teased and taunted relentlessly with only Death being the main mediator to rid his youngest from such torment. You too struggle with this ordeal within the spiralling, ethereal pool of the watchers. But by no means do any come to your valiant rescue.
So when you are chosen to be bound to the red cowled Horsemen, you do well to ignore his scornful glare and allow your eyes to crinkle with a mouthless smile. Finally, you are given reprieve from your own torment and what’s more, you get a chance to explore the many worlds.
At first, he’d been confronted by this… unique behaviour of exploration. The way you gravitate towards the smallest and most mundane articles in your path, you found there to be something entrancing about a single, white petalled flower that remains fighting against the rubble and corruption around it. Or from the wayward cast of your gaze that appeared to become lost in the intricate layout of the realms you travel to. No matter where you are, you always manage to find something that piques your peculiar interest.
And in meeting Vulgrim, the demon trader who bargains boons and goods in exchange for souls, who’s hunger knows no bounds, is allured by that younger scent of yours. The fiend is salivating in his thoughts and lipless grin, you force yourself to hide behind War, whether as an act of cowardice or self-preservation, but it spurns the Horseman into action. That of defense. To protect you, the baritone of his voice warns Vulgrim off. That by the Charred Council - and by him - you are protected.
War is silent about his intrigue of your gentle, silent nature. You are often out and about, lingering on the horizon of his watch and never straying too far from him.
"What is it, little Watcher?" he grumbles to you eagerly pounding on the plate of his pauldron to gain his attention, glancing to where you enthusiastically indicate towards a point of interest. In reply, he gives a stern nod of his head. The closest sentiment of thanks you can get from the near-silent rider. But adventurous voyages are cut short to retreat into the crypt of his body and soul when danger lurks near. Despite the inward haven, you find it hard to simply wait out the carnage and a strange sorrow fills the void where a heart should be when you see him falter, inflicted with wounds wrought from battle.
Because of this need to see him unharmed, you will yourself to be brave. Fighting against the demonic forces of Hell’s army, War finds himself becoming overpowered. In your determination to aid the youngest Horsemen, you put yourself in the league of danger, and drive a sharpened point of a broken blade into the beast’s side with a shrill battle-cry.
At the cost of being grappled and tossed into a wall of torn and reformed rock, War is given the opportunity he needs to gain the upper hand.
After that particular fight, War notices the slumped form you take and despite his limited expertise, he attends any injury you sustained in the attack.
“This should help, little Watcher,” he says, uncertainty evident in the way he scowls, his low-silken voice drawls with faded hope of helping you. But it matters little, you’re gladdened by the tenderness of his actions. The four are not exactly known to be courteous. And Watchers are despised by them, and any other spiritual being for that matter, so to be taken under his care despite any reservations of loathing he may hold for you; it creates the illusion of a smile in your glowing eyes.
War doesn’t smile in turn. Nor did you expect him to. But the bevel between his ashen brows ceases just a little and the glaring mask of his stoicism wavers that tiny bit more. Lowering the blackened limb of your bound arm, he stands to his full height before you after having bandaged your wound. The sound of your voice after all this time visibly shakes him, his fangs bared and eyes growing wide.
“Thank you, War…”
#darksiders#female reader#darksiders fanfiction#darksiders war#horsemen of the apocalypse#nephilim#fanfiction#darksiders x reader#darksiders war x reader#war x reader#x reader#War/Reader
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In the Pines
Chapter 2- Death Throes
A new stranger arrives at the Dead Kingdom, and you question if he is friend or foe...
The method of dying isn’t a stranger to War. It is an unwelcome experience than a closely held fear that all creatures hold close to their chests. He wouldn’t be one to boast about having been through the whole entirety of dying, but he wouldn’t shy away from exclaiming he doesn’t fear it.
This time however, War can’t ignore the waves of shame that ache like a slug to the gut. Indeed, he’d felt shame when he perished in battle when carrying the Ravaiim relic to safety. But this was beyond what he felt all those eons ago.
A failure to keep a relic away from enemy hands was vastly overshadowed by the obliteration of War’s image, his legendary honor. All knew of War’s pride of being the warrior he was, the oaths he’d made and the extensions he’d reach to see them fulfilled. He’d been a poster child, in a sense, of the perfect enforcer of the Balance. The favorite of the Council with his diligent work ethic, outshining them all in how he’d throw himself into his duties. As if he’d have something to prove despite the need not to.
How far he’d fallen…
Stripped of his power, thoroughly chewed out by the Council and put under their chopping block to serve as their punishment for a supposed crime he didn’t commit.
After War opened his eyes, he didn’t need to see the sickly green hue clinging to his being to know he’s been transported to the Kingdom of the Dead. The stench of stale air and a musk of the ever decaying souls assaults his nose. Beneath him is a ground devoid of any green, and instead substituted with layers of dust that flutter through the air at the slightest disturbance.
He can still feel the vague wetness of tears that trail his cheeks. The rider never felt more vulnerable than before.
The racing images of the past events came flooding through his mind, from the moment of the call to his arrival. The chance meeting with Abaddon…
Abaddon. He must be here, War vaguely thinks between the onslaught of thoughts that plague his mind. If he can find him here, then he will find out why he was there… one way or another…
But that very thought sends a wave of anger through his chest, as War is only able to reflect on the accusations and confusion that follows. What purpose did the Archangel serve among the ranks, he was leader of the Hellguard, a division dedicated to the protection from Hellish infiltration of protected areas, especially the borders of Heaven. They were not at all meant to march at the front lines of the Apocalypse as it wasn’t their duty.
Yet there they were, among the ranks fighting with just as much ferocity as the summoned legions. The gears in his brain churned at an incomprehensible rate as he tried to key together this mystery.
What purpose did they serve, and what secrets are they hiding?
Something greater was at play here. Abaddon, the Call beckoning him to do his duty, and no sense of his brothers and sister in the Earth.
All at once, the frustrations bubbled and broiled over within the Horseman. The memories that lay bare across his vision began to crumble and branch into webbing cracks as his own wrath, hot as frothing lava, rose in terrible tidal waves, fueling dead veins with his famously irremovable ire.
Then, akin to a weakened dam holding back a tsunami, the images of his mind, and the last of his reserves, explode in an extraordinary display.
Pulling his lips back to unleash terrible canines, War’s prosthetic arm clenched tight enough to nearly break the metal fingers. Eyelids snap open to reveal the blazing glow of glacial blue, near blinding as they’re fueled by his rage. He raises his fist above his head and, in one great swell of strength, swings it down with a terrible velocity as War unleashes an agonized bellow of betrayal.
The momentum of his arm stops short, colliding with the ground below, stone beneath shatters upon impact. Dust flies everywhere as the shockwave sends throughout.
War doesn’t need to see the ground to know he’s left a crater.
Though he doesn’t need air, War huffs as greatly as a rhinoceros. The fire within him surges through his body, showing no signs of slowing down soon. The rider can only stare hatefully at the cobblestone below as he tries to ride out this immeasurable wave.
For an immeasurable amount of time, the Nephilim stays motionless, sucking in deep lungfuls of dust laden air before forcefully exhaling. His right arm, the flesh one, shakes with tremors under his gauntlet, before the trembles slowly spread across his body.
The great injustice of it all enraged War greatly, he can’t help but reflect upon what the Council said to Fury of their elder brothers being absent. Strife had been sent out on a mission according to them, but Death’s case had his mind reeling.
The Eldest had done this before, in the distant past. Disappearing for five hundred years without a trace until finally showing his face in the wake of the Council’s urgent summons. He had disappeared, likely for his own sake of solitude after the Nephilim’s fall.
But what reason had he now to disappear? Where could Death go that not even the most sensitive ears or eyes could detect him on the furthest comer of Creation?
He wouldn’t abandon them. Not again… So caught up in the haze of his muddled thoughts, War doesn’t hear gentle footfalls coming up to his side. His hood, far over his head, obscures his peripheral vision and had he noticed, he’d be ashamed for letting an unknown person get so close.
But he doesn’t scold himself as he’s still caught in the fray. At least, that is until he hears a throat be cleared before asking him a question he’s never been directed to in his eons of existence.
“Hello there sir. Are you alright?”
——
The behemoth of a man doesn’t move when you call out. But you know he’s heard you if the tensing of his body is any indication. His face is obscured by the hulking copper pauldron and blood red hood pulled far over his head, blocking off any view of his features.
There’s a tremble to his figure, albeit faint, you can spot the quivers beneath his strange armor. You’d would’ve guessed him to be an Angel if it weren’t for the lack of wings and the doubt of seeing one so scared. Demon was far out of the question due to the obvious absence of a tail, malformed wings or the faint sulfur stink they possessed (a surprising fact to learn).
Was this stranger human? The question rattled in your head as you took in his huge figure, the apex of his shoulders were equal to yours at your full height. But the sheer size of him alone suggested Maker, but even this beast of a man would be minuscule compared to Engri.
But it didn’t matter who or what he was, but rather, the shaking that didn’t cease even as you both stood in silence. A pang of sympathy wells in your chest, remembering how you were just as frightened when you first arrived. Death throes, Engri had called them. The soul still yearns for life, and tries to command flesh that isn’t there anymore.
‘He could probably use a hand, after who knows what he went through.’ You shudder at the thought of the untold horrors that he must’ve endured at his death.
‘Friendly face…’ you remind yourself as you clear your throat and try again.
“Sir, are you alright?”
This time, you get a reaction. The man’s head whips around in record time, near startling you as you’re suddenly stared down by the mysterious newcomer.
Behind the copper pauldron and his hood, you spot two bright eyes staring you down, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. They’re pupilless, glowing like sulfur fire with just as much intensity. The twin flames stare you down like a wrathful lion roused from slumber, and you the mousy culprit.
You can’t help but find yourself lost in the void, sinking further into the crashing storm of anger and despair. It’s too powerful to pull away now, and you can’t gather the strength to as you spot something within him.
For just a moment, in the moment that time was creeping between the two of you, there was the slightest hint of fear swimming beneath the surface. As quick as you caught it, it was dashed away as those wild and raw eyes hardened. It was not unlike watching the surface of magma cool into solid rock, but beneath did the liquid fire still burn.
Caught up in the swirling hues of burning blue, you failed to catch the stranger’s face contort into something more offensive. If you did, you would’ve wisely backed away instead of gawk dumbly as lips pulled back to reveal glimmering teeth.
“What?” He snarls the question at you, the deepness of his breathy tone pulling you in like a magnet. You still don't give an answer, caught between the urge to swallow up your concern and run and to stay and comfort the man. If you could call him that.
Quicker than you’d expect a man his size to move, the stranger throws himself backwards. Adopting a protective stance, his left arm is poised to cover his body more effectively as he bares his teeth warningly. Simultaneously, you jolt back instinctively putting distance between you and him.
How ironic.
Dead as dust, and your mind is trying to keep alive as if you still possessed a beating heart and blood in your viscera. Even more so concerting, considering how you’d been so adamant on approaching him first.
Briefly, there’s a thought that comes into mind, asking if this was a wise idea. But what could one soul do to another when both are dead?
You doubt the dead can be killed again. With that logic you feel less insecure about an attack. So you gulp down your nerves and clear your throat.
“Everything‘s okay,” you begin, arms held up placatingly as the man eyes you warily, “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Not that you could even land a single blow on your best day.
The man thinks the same, as his lips pull into a deeper scowl as his nose curls. Though he has no discernible pupil, you can feel him sizing you up. Definitely determining you to be as much of a threat to him as a fly is to a lion.
Seconds tick by like eons, neither one of you twitching a muscle as you stare each other down. One with barely restrained apprehension, the other suspicion and lingering animosity.
Until finally, the man curls his nose with a huff.
Completely unimpressed, he motions to leave you in the dust, metaphorically and literally as he spins on his heel and makes his way out of the tiny pocket of room off the road. The ground below shudders with a muffled tromp, displacing dust to flutter into the air and stray pebbles to rock.
If you’d a moment to think about his sheer impact on the ground, you probably wouldn’t have so brazenly charged forward to meet with him again. Hellbent on trying to understand what was his grand plan here.
Maybe you would’ve wisely backed off, especially when you were so hesitant to approach due to the very threat of bodily harm. Even beyond the grave. You’d definitely be reflecting on this tonight to find the answer to this crazy ass decision. But the only answer you’d receive after racking your brain to find is probably “whoopsie” or “I’m not fucking up my first day of Soul Guiding”.
Just as your hand is about to make contact with the man’s armored arm, there’s a great flash of gray as the world suddenly spins on its axis. Roughly, your back slams into the ground as the beanie hugging your head jostles loose, half handing to your skull. If you’d any breath it’d be knocked clean out, but all you do is gawk, breathless regardless.
In one swift motion you’d been slammed into the ground with the giant of a man hovering over you. Enormous legs cage you in as he keeps a grip so ironclad on your guilty arm you can legitimately feel the pressure near breaking. You fear he’d break your bones had you not been so caught up in staring him down, dead heart lurching in your throat.
Pinned, outsized and far in over your head, the only plausible thing your panic riddled mind can do is teeter on the precipice of two options. Gather the last remnants of human survival and urge you to break loose or relive the last moments of your life cornered in that concrete trap like you are now. The only difference you felt was no roaring of blood into your ears nor the stir of a certain pounding cardiac organ.
You swear in this very moment this man was really those hound monsters in disguise, ready for a part two in their revenge.
Get off.
You see those hungry eyes through the cracks. Blues bleed into fiery orange, the shadows eclipse into coal black leathery skin of hellish hounds.
Get off.
Pulled back lips contort into snarling maws like permanent grins. Bare gums glinting with teeth bigger than your arm. A heavy pant like laughter among the prowling pack that close in on their prey.
GET O F F !
The crushing grip melds into the pain of your arm —- your missing flesh arm —-
You can taste the blood, feel it running down your throat and flood your lungs—
G E T O F F !
The proximity between him and you is near atoms apart. You feel the wisps of breath he exhales, fluttering over your cheeks like ghosts in the wind. There is no heat, unlike the breath of the hounds who felt hotter than the pits of Hell. A complete antithesis-
“GET OFF ME!”
The shriek echoes across the empty field, rattling the naked limbs of a nearby tree and disturbing the dust to flutter around the air. Dancing between the two of you carelessly.
The man above you does not move as you demanded, instead he keeps his grip steady, the only indication of him listening to you are his raised brows and slightly widened eyes. Clearly surprised by the outburst. But he still doesn’t make a single move, instead vying to keep you pinned as his lips form words that your brain fails to comprehend. It’s only after a few seconds of silence after his words have passed his mouth did your brain catch it like a delayed echo.
“Who are you?! What is the meaning of this?” Though he nearly splits your ears with his bellow, the demand sounds as if you’re hearing him with cotton stuffed in your ears. And underwater.
When you don’t give an immediate answer, his patience seems to wear thin, given by the deepening furrow of his brow. Vaguely you think how it’s even physically possible before your ears pick up on a voice ring through the air.
“I-I just-!”
“It will do you good to let them go boy!”
Both you and the man’s head swivel to the origin of the newcomer. Poised for attack, the stranger is dressed in armored regalia, finely detailed with bone imagery long since worn down. He carries a glaive, or at least an imitation of the weapon due to its dramatic length of the blade. It’s pointed in your general direction, but not at you. But the head of the man above you.
He stares you down with well worn eyes, cataracts cloudy yet sharply focused on you.
The stranger doesn’t give away what he feels about the situation, but from the pinching of his brows and snarling of teeth, he doesn’t like what he sees.
The soldier jabs the weapon, the edge near kidding the red hood of the man above. He merely grunts at the proffer of the metal blade, unphased about this. Which was rather ironic given his need to attack weaponless you.
“I will not ask again! Let the ‘uman go.” He snarls, dripping with authority to make you rigid upon hearing. The man above you snaps his head between you and the newcomer, brows pinched together as you shoot him a weary grin, silently begging he’d listen.
“Yeah, uh, please let the human go…” you say weakly, struggling under his grip as you feel an atom more confident with this stranger. Though that is promptly squashed when the man glares daggers into you, sending a wave of cold dread shooting through your chest. The crushing grip tightening even more.
“I am not asking you again boy! ‘ave you no sense o’ ‘onor that you’d attack one without a weapon?!”
That gets his attention.
His ironclad hold violently wrenches free, and you immediately scramble out from underneath him. You drag yourself away from the man and put some distance between you and him, with the stranger as a barrier. Despite not knowing either, you’d take your chances with the soldier rather than the goliath.
The guard shuffles until he’s blocked the view of the red hooded behemoth, weapon poised at his head. He tilts his head back to eye you as he calls out. “You alright ‘uman?” Dazed, you can only offer an unsure grunt, grasping at the arm with fresh indents in the dead skin. You wince as you doubt there’s a chance it’ll recover.
“Y-yeah.” Is the feeble answer.
He grunts before turning his attention to your attacker, whose face is twisted into a vicious snarl half hidden by his hood. Those blue eyes are pure murderous as he glares at your savior. However, he is completely unaffected, instead vying to puff his chest out and raise his shoulders. Immediately, the man becomes larger than he already is, the armor assisting him as the oversized pauldrons that sweep towards the air flare out like boney wings.
The tension growing between the two is heavy, like a thick fog and tingling with electricity. Though you’re not caught in the middle of it, you can feel the sharp sting that leaves you dizzy.
Just when you’re sure the fog will stretch out to you and wrap you in the static blanket, it’s so abruptly interrupted.
“I do not know why you attack this ‘uman, but know that this will not go unnoticed by me. ‘owever that is not why I am ‘ere,” the man straightened his posture as he keeps his glaive pointed straight at the man, “I am ‘ere to escort you, Red Rider, to the King, for you are hereby summoned to appear ‘fore the Dead Court.”
That gets your attention.
Engri had spoken of the monarchy and his exclusivity on the few to no guests he harbors in his Court. In fact, practically no one has made company with the king in the last century other than his guards and royal advisors and overseers.
Not that making company was as simple as approaching the throne room and waltzing in to share your grievances. Between the tales of the men of the Arena who’s battle prowess could match that of the aged Maker and cynical advisors, you’d heard of one such obstacle to meet the king.
The Arena and its heralded unbeatable Champion.
Engri had shared the stories of the Champion, a creature of bone and sinew, nigh invincible. How she’d faced the beast before in boast, promising to bring the skull to the Court not for an audience, but to wipe the smirk off their smug faces when they claimed she’d be unsuccessful as the others. And they’d been right.
The monster was unpredictable in its attacks and twice as formidable in strength, even against a seasoned warrior as Engri. In the end, the battle mage decided it best to abandon her quest and turn tail to save herself the near severed limbs and a wounded ego during the excursion.
That was the only ticket to meet the king.
And this guy gets a free fucking pass.
A trickling sensation of horror and suspicion runs up your spine as you wearily eye the stranger. What had he done to warrant the king’s audience per his demand?
Probably something terrible. Right?
The “Red Rider” or he’s been addressed, near snarls at the soldier whilst rising to an impossible height. Your eyes shamelessly bulge from their sockets as your jaw fails to keep itself hinged while you wordlessly gawk.
You knew he was tall from how he nearly reached your shoulder on his knees, but not like this. He towers over the soldier who himself boasts an impressive height, and his glaive stands taller than his helmet which adds a few extra inches. You doubt your head even reaches the bottom of his sternum if you stood on your toes.
“What would your king,” he spits the word out like rot on his tongue, “want with me? I am no stranger to this realm nor am I a foe.”
The soldier doesn’t stop the scoff, making the taller shoot a nasty glare. “Do you think us so shut in from the world of the livin’ we do not know o’ your affairs?” The hooded man immediately stiffens, your head tilts as you questioningly stare at the accused wondering if-
“I've done nothing of the sort. I am not guilty of the crimes the Council accuses me of!” He bellows, voice so powerful you can feel it punch you in the chest. Though the other male seems completely unaffected, not even a flinch.
“Whatever those slags o’ molten rocks decide is none o’ my concern. I am ‘ere merely to escort you to the Court.” He cooly says.
Council? Crimes? Molten rocks?! What in fuck’s name are they talking about?!
Too caught up in the haze, you shake your head in efforts to clear the very muddled thoughts you’re trying to piece together. You don’t even register their conversation.
Yeah, the man straight up attacked you, but he hadn’t seemed to do so blindly. Though the whole parameters of why he’d think of you as a threat doesn’t click.
But beforehand, prior to his… lashing out, he seemed completely caught up in himself. The scream you’d heard, how the raw bellow was so pained, opposite to his aloof attitude. How he sounded so… betrayed?
Scared.
Like when you first opened your eyes on the cobblestone road.
A pang of sympathy worms its way through your chest, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste of the past. A frown stretches across your lips, remembering that wretched feeling.
Why should you not extend that mercy to him? Because of some self preservation to your corpse? A guard claiming he’s to be punished for a possible crime? Your survival instincts screamed not to, and logic dictated that this was none of your own business.
But the man’s protests of innocence were too heartfelt. Too… fervent.
Unlike the aged corpse of a soldier, you listen to those cries. You know them well. Distant wails that cut through the ears of the endlessly noisy city like a gunshot. Too many times you lie awake on your bed, listening helplessly to the sound.
You once burst out of your room with an urgent desperation to quell those cries. Tirelessly searching for the endless laments, overwhelmed to find the city overrun with souls that scream for a life stolen away, of being lost with this insufferably ceaseless city.
Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t help anyone. It seemed as if the screams were not from souls, but part of the very ambience of the city.
You barely slept a week after that, regardless of your exhaustion.
This man, this soul- you can’t bear the thought of leaving him to his fate. It’s selfish but you don't want to bear another moment in the city after the day is done. Returning to that unshakable tune. Maybe this once, you could quell this one’s cries so he wouldn’t join that accursed choir.
Leaving him to go to the Court did not sit right in your gut. You couldn’t stop it, but maybe you could sway them.
Engri’s talk of the King did not soothe your nerves however. But in spite of that, you do not stop yourself from the words that spill out your mouth just as the soldier was about to escort the soul out.
“Uhm,” you scramble to your feet, something more dignified if it weren’t for the dust and beanie falling out of place, “wait right there! I’m coming along!”
The soldier snorts, actually snorts before he can cover his mouth with a hand. That near permanent grin of a half rotted skull seems to widen as he attempts to collect himself. You scarcely notice curious blue eyes drift your way as you pull your beanie back over your scalp, suddenly bashful.
“You ‘ave no business with the King,” he declares, tone trembling with barely held back chuckles, “it’s ‘im that the King wants, ‘uman. You’ve no idea of what magnitude the offense this one has committed.” The Red Rider shoots him a poisonous glare from behind.
“Well, I don’t happen to believe that!” You lamely retort, chest clenching at your weak protest that makes both men take pause. The soldier eyes you with suspicion while Red remains otherwise impassable, other than the slightest widening of his eyes behind his hood. You absently wonder if he is even affected by your protest. Something within your dead chest screams that it does, that he is in fact, thinking about what you’re doing, but your head seems to think otherwise, filled with doubt.
Your brain weighs the outcomes of both possibilities at blink-fast speed, considering both extremes that could come to haunt you. Either one, this man is indeed what the guard claims, to have committed the worst of crimes, hiding behind a red hood and devastatingly convincing face to trick the bleeding hearts into his scheming and letting him roam free. Though the worst possible crimes he can commit in this godforsaken realm such as murder was null and void, that didn’t make him less of a threat. You could let him walk free, unpunished and unforgiving into this world, here forever if you can even convince the Court.
Or…
This man is indeed innocent. A victim of circumstance, or even a setup if his protests have any hint of what had happened. You could save him from taking the fall and being wrongly punished for someone else’s crimes. You couldn’t imagine living, or rather, continuing on this dead life with that on your conscience for eternity. Not even after a million years could you imagine that the guilt would even erode in the slightest.
Then, you think about when you first laid eyes on him, how frightened he was, that scream, and those wild eyes that you almost drowned in. There was a deep powerlessness that you recognized that you couldn’t forget.
You’ve seen that look in the eyes of your fellow humans as they were slaughtered on the streets, hopelessly overpowered in the eyes of Angels and Demons. Pure, unadulterated terror soaking into the very bone, leaving no atom unmarred. Then, a ringing in your ear turns into his scream and it blends in with hundreds more you hear a familiar voice come through.
“‘M off tae take ‘em to tae city,” It’s Engri’s voice from hours ago, “I doubt there won’ be any other souls while ‘m gone,” you had decided to stay behind, using the excuse of wanting to help farry souls as a reason not to go back to that wailing city. You did want to help, but you never expected, well, this.
“Well, what should I do if someone comes and they won’t go with me?” You asked, unsure of what to expect, to which she had answered simply.
“Then follow ‘em wherever they go. With time, they’ll go with ye.”
Sucking in a breath, you hope this won’t be the biggest mistake of your undead life. Squaring your shoulders and straightening your spine, you boldly stare the guard in the back as you unsteadily declare,
“Take me with him to the King’s Court, I am acting as his voucher of character.”
Sometimes, the heart is bigger than the head.
#darksiders#war#reader#darksiders x reader#Darksiders war#gn reader#can you believe its been two years since I posted the first chapt#found this chapter saved in my google doc saved and found it accidentally when I looked for my criminal justice notes#it was COMPLETE TOO WTF LMAO
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War's Kindle Winters
Synopsis: War spends his first winter with you in your grandfather's cottage
Warnings: fluff, sleeping, laziness, heavy snowfall, cuddles, Soft! War
A/n: I did it for the sake of curiosity. And I'm a little proud tbh
*Flashback*
The snow had fallen to the earth, the trees were covered in a blanket of white, and little snowflakes danced in the cold air like ballerinas. You stood in the middle of the forest, A faint winter coat, gloves, snow boots, a case of arrows on your back, and your bow in hand. A deer wandered into your vision sniffing at the frozen ground, you let out a tiny sigh as smoke left your mouth, You grabbed the arrow, raised your bow at the deer, and pulled the string along with the arrow. You let go of the arrow as it flew in the air and shot at the deer's neck. The deer stumbled to the ground. You raced over to see that the deer is dead.
A dark shadow stood behind you in a menacing way, you turned around to see a demon in a dark cloak with red horns in the show. You smiled calmly knowing that it was just your grandfather, who you called since he didn’t tell you his real name. He looked around the area the sound of howling and growling filled the snowy grounds. He held out his hand, “Come now, we must head home before it gets dark.” “ Yes, Grandpa.” You answered sweetly as you dragged the dead deer with one hand and the other holding his. The two of you walked together back into your cottage in the mountain of winter.
***
It's been 25 years since then... 25 long years.
The sound of crunching snow and hooves echoed the first You and War rode side by side as you both trotted in the snow, you came to a stop at a familiar tree with a gash mark on it. You're close. " Come on, we're almost there," You said as you rode your horse past the marked tree, War soon followed you. The winds sang lowly as the flakes of snow danced in the earth. War has been by your side since he first met in The Crossroads, alone, your instincts heightened, and weapons ready at your side. He was utterly shocked to see a human wandering the dead earth for a century. Now, he's riding with you in a forest, following your lead. " It's here... after all these years it's still standing." You spoke to yourself as you stood before you the cottage in the mountain, it's like nothing changed nor touched since you left.
War went beside you as you looked at the wooden home with a little perplexity and a bit of sadness like you were here with someone before. Got off your horse, and you led her to the small stable house. War and Ruin watched you curiously as you locked up the gate in front of her horse. She walked into the buried snow towards her cottage.
War soon followed, his giant footsteps echoed through the dark room, with one swift of flame magic you first lit the empty fireplace. The fireplace blazed but soon calmed down, dancing like one small but giant light, you sighed as took off your armor and fur and lay on the small long desk. You turned to see War carefully observing since you walked in You offered your hand to him, " Come now get comfortable, we'll be here for a while. " He stared at you curiously and a little shockingly, no one in all his years of existence has ever shown this type of... feeling of genuine kindness and acceptance. He took off his armor piece by piece, except for his sword, he keeps it at all times. He followed you inside your home, and you stopped in the middle of the living room. " Wait here, I'll be right back,""You requested, as you hurriedly rushed upstairs to get him some clothes that can fit his muscular build. You came back down, with a checkered sleeve shirt and decant pants, you gave him the clothes and shoes him the way to the bathroom.
It was War's first winter with you in your grandfather's cozy cottage. As the snow fell heavily outside, the two of you huddled together inside, enjoying each other's company. War had never experienced anything like this before, and he was fascinated by the warmth of the fire and the softness of the blankets. As the days went by, War found himself becoming more and more relaxed around you. He had always been a warrior, always on the move, always ready for battle. But with you, he didn't feel the need to be constantly vigilant. He could let his guard down and just be himself.
One lazy afternoon, as the snow continued to fall outside, War found himself dozing off on the couch. You were curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest. He could feel your breaths against his skin, and he felt a sense of peace that he had never known before. As he drifted off to sleep, he found himself wondering how he had ever lived without you. You were his rock, his shelter from the storm. And he was grateful to have you in his life.
The rest of the winter passed in a blur of lazy days and cozy nights. War and you spent hours talking, laughing, and cuddling together. And as the snow melted away and spring began to bloom, War knew that he would always treasure his memories of that first winter with you in your grandfather's cottage. For War, it was a time of growth, of learning to let go of his fears and embrace the warmth of love. And he knew that he had you to thank for that. You had shown him a side of himself that he had never known before, and he was forever grateful.
#darksiders#darksiders 3#darksiders 2#darksiders war#war x reader#darksiders war x reader#darksiders fanfiction#darksiders imagine#darksiders ruin#darksiders x reader#war darksiders#darksiders horsemen#war#darksiders fluff
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Was not a fan of the way the colors turned out on this one so I decided to just keep it black and white. Hope that's acceptable ^.^
Gotta smooch the angry Nephilim fast before he realizes what's happening
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Hello Strife Nation
[me waking up this morning] Hmm, perhaps an Eden's Heir shitpost for the lovelies?R
#darksiders#darksiders genesis#War's like 'Brother you are embarrassing me'#Strife#Reader#Strife x reader#Doodles#Sketch#Eden's Heir#Strife is Juicy you can't change my mind#Remember Dagon's fight?#Cos I do
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Darksiders - Death's Human Meets The Other Horsemen
Broken: I saw an image by @imagine-darksiders, which gave me an idea for this one shot. There's another one that I will do but I wanted to post this one first. Now, let the words weave together.
[Y/N] was feeling uncertain about how to handle the situation. They were living in a chaotic household with some of the most unusual roommates imaginable - the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, War, Strife, and Fury. Death and [Y/N] had met while traveling together, and after Death completed a mission, they stumbled upon [Y/N's] House on the outskirts of the city. Since it had not been affected by demons yet, they decided to make it their home while Death did missions for the Charred Council and [Y/N] ran errands for Vulgrim, much to Death's dismay. About five weeks after they settled in, Death's brother War came to visit, followed by Strife, and finally, the Female Rider of the Four Horsemen, Fury, who enjoyed getting under Death's skin the most.
War didn't pay much attention to [Y/N] when it came to the Horsemen. However, Death informed him about the incredible feats accomplished by [Y/N] and him. They had defeated demons, solved puzzles, and [Y/N] even killed a Guardian to save Death. War had not been interested in humans, much like Fury. Nevertheless, Death's accounts of [Y/N]'s bravery and resourcefulness caused him to develop a newfound admiration for the unassuming woman who wore a hoodie and worked with the questionable merchant, Vulgrim.
While working for Vulgrim to collect relics, [Y/N] encountered Strife, the masked gunslinger, in the wastelands. [Y/N] asked if Strife knew of a demon named Vulgrim, to which Strife nodded in recognition. [Y/N] mentioned working for Vulgrim and compared Strife to another masked individual, Death. Strife was surprised to learn that [Y/N] had been in the company of another Horseman and revealed that Death was his brother. After [Y/N] offered Strife a place to rest, they walked to her house where they saw Death talking to a woman in armor with flowing red hair and glowing white eyes. [Y/N] and Strife paused to observe them.
"What are you doing here, Fury?" Death asked from his position on the other side of the door within the house.
Fury teased Death about her lack of enthusiasm upon seeing her sister. However, Death was serious and shared that she had finished her duty for the Charred Council. She mentioned hearing from Vulgrim that Fury was now living in a house with a human woman. Death wanted to confirm this herself and mentioned being able to smell the human even though she wasn't present.
"That would be me." [Y/N] spoke as she took a step forward, gaining both Death's and Fury's attention.
"[Y/N], what are you doing back here so early? I thought you were still working with Vulgrim around this time." Death said as he looked at the hooded human before his eyes drifted to the taller figure standing beside his human, "Strife, what are you doing here, and want are you doing with [Y/N]?"
"While searching for artifacts in the wastelands, I met a woman who works for Vulgrim. She kindly offered me a place to stay while I am in-between missions. I have also heard rumors that War is nearby." Strife said.
"War is not here at the moment, he's dealing with the Charred Council. Now, what are you doing here with…" Death noticed Fury walking over to [Y/N] with a smirk on her face, "Fury?"
As [Y/N] gazed up at The Horseman's glowing eyes, she noticed the black-painted lips that formed a smile. Before she could say anything, Fury grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air, causing [Y/N] to grip Fury's arm in surprise. She stared at Fury's smirking face in shock.
"So, you're the human that took down a Guardian? A rather interesting feat for such a small human but I found that that amazing. Why don't you come with me? I can train you to be an even stronger warrior, I can give you better adventures, more exhilarating than Death can give you, and trust me…I'm much better company than my brother." Fury purred into [Y/N]'s ear, causing the human to shiver.
"Death?! DEATH?! HELP!" [Y/N] called out to her roommate and friend, looking at him with fear in her eyes, causing Death to walk over to them and plucked [Y/N] out of Fury's Grasp, causing Fury to frown and fold her arms. Death placed on the ground on her feet before turning to Fury.
"Stop picking on my human, Fury. Death said as he narrowed his eyes at his sister, who smirked at [Y/N] who hid behind Death.
"Don't worry, Little Human… I'll make you mine before long. Until then, I'll be staying here as well. The Four Horsemen…together again." Fury smirked as she walked into the house with a sway in her hips.
'This was not going to be easy…' [Y/N] and Death thought at the same time.
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THE HORSEMEN AT MARDI GRAS
Death:
Death is not one to party. Not this version of him,at least. Younger him however,is a totally different story.
But, he'll indulge you and go to a few parades with you,mainly the small ones like in Slidell or Lacombe.
Stays away from the big parades in New Orleans and such, especially after finding out about all the random shootings. Gotta keep his favorite human safe right?
He tries his best to get you the best things,like the cute stuffed animals and such.
Gives his extra beads to the little kids and enjoys watching the dance groups.
All in all a pretty chill guy to go with.
Strife
Oh he's going to ALL the parades. No matter where they are.
WILL try and drink anyone under the table too. Tell him about the hand grenades,you'll lose him on Bourbon Street. He will down like,eight of those fuckers and only feel a buzz.
Oh and don't tell him about the flashing boobs for beads. He will look at every woman who did it unabashed. Will try to get you to do the same(if you have tits)
All in all,he's a party animal and fun for the first two weeks of Mardi Gras.
Fury
Not that into parades honestly. But will go with you if you ask,like Death.
Likes seeing all the face paint and body art going around, she'll probably try to do some on you or have you do some on her.
She will also,try and drink anyone under the table. Can ALSO drink a shit ton of hand grenades and not feel a damn thing.
She likes looking at the little shops on Bourbon Street, especially the Marie Laveaux voodoo shop.
She LOVES the dog parade in Slidell. Gets to pet all the cute puppers.
All in all,also a chill person to hang with for Mardi Gras. Not as crazy as Strife,but still fun to party with.
War
Not going to a parade. Nope,not one for crowds or anything like that.
Doesn't understand the concept of it either,and when you explain,he just shrugs and says he can BUY you stuffies if need be. Why go out,in large crowds,to drink and possibly get smashed into,run over,cussed at,spilled on,possibly SHOT,all for some measly plastic strands you place on your neck?
Oh don't even TELL him about the Boobs for Beads thing. He WILL padlock a shirt onto you if you somehow go to a parade without him. No one should be showing-or seeing-that for some stupid beads!
MIGHT have a drink or two,just to see what the hype is about. Meh,not the biggest fan.
If you DO manage to drag him to a parade,his favorite parts are the horses(duh)and the JROTC. He comments on their posture and such and enjoys the little show.
All in all,just stay home with this lovable lunk.
STAY SAFE THIS MARDI GRAS SEASON, PLEASE!
#darksiders headcanons#darksiders#darksiders 2#darksiders death#darksiders strife#darksiders war#darksiders fury#darksiders death x reader#darksiders strife x reader#darksiders war x reader
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How They Say “I Missed You”
((Not me coming back to this hellscape of a website after months and wondering if these guys miss people.))
Death: He has to deny that he misses you, which is something he’s very good at. It makes him feel lonely, which makes him unfocused, and unfocused necromancers have a way of ruining everyone’s day. His “I missed you” is when he reaches over to gently brush your leg, to check if you’re still there. If his hand is met with nothing, there’s a flash of panic in his eyes as he searches the room to see where he may have misplaced you this time.
Fury: Her “I missed you” is in the huffy way she cuddles you when you get home. She doesn’t like being left behind. She can do things. It hurts that you felt she couldn’t help you on this trip. On the off chance that you took one of her brothers instead of her, be prepared to not be spoken to for a hefty length of time (she’ll still take those cuddles). She really did miss you, though, just invite her next time so she doesn’t have to worry that you fell face first onto a spike or something equally as human.
Strife: His “I missed you” is explosive. He’s the only one of the Four that checks in on a regular basis and makes sure you know he notices your absence. Humans don’t have much time, so he’s not going to waste it pretending he doesn’t miss looking at your face.
War: “[Y/N] will be back.” He says it often, free from any shadow resembling a doubt. Unlike the others, he haunts your favorite places to feel a little closer to you, because there’s no question that you’ll be back in them soon enough.
Bonus:
Azrael: “Welcome home.” It’s simple but genuine. He doesn’t move your things, but rather just cleans around them and dusts over them: your book is still on the nightstand, your shirt is still on the ground, your side of the bed is still unmade. He cleans them once you’re back, of course.
#darksiders#death#fury#strife#war#azrael#fluff#imagine#shitpost#headcanon#horsemen missing things#and azrael#death x reader#fury x reader#strife x reader#war x reader#azrael x reader
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Good evening friend! I've had a bit to drink while replaying Darksiders 2 and have been wondering if death would be fun to drink with. Thoughts? I figure Strife would be hella fun at first then if he overdoes it he'd get a bit maudlin. Feel free to add on for other characters if you want to!
Appreciate your contribution to this teeny fandom! *Toasts you with drink of choice* ❤️
Sure thing! I'm actually going to do them all :))
War
He is not fun to drink with. Man has one drink and calls it a night. He doesn't like alcohol, and he hates feeling tipsy. It makes him feel like he's not in control of his own body.
If you do manage to get him to drink more, I'd suggest drinking at home. He loosens up and becomes way more talkative and he won't be happy if other people (strangers at that) saw him like that.
And when he becomes more talkative its really all slurred and jumbled together, you have to get him to announciate his words to try and understand him.
At the end of the night, you can bet he's throwing up and passing out on the floor. And since you wouldn't be able to move him, well just put a pillow under his head and drap a blanket over him. He'll be fine.
He wakes up to the biggest migraine ever, and will proceed to be 10x grumpy and scowly until it has passed. So make sure to give him plenty of water, migraine meds, and a big old greasy breakfast in the morning.
Death
He usually tries to avoid alcohol all together. You'll find he'll have a glass of wine for the silly human holidays you enjoy so much, but other than that he doesn't drink.
If you do manage to get him to drink, well you're questioning if he's been dumping out his glass while you weren't looking. He's hardly changed at all!
But no, he most certainly has been drinking it due to your wishes. He's just really good at seeming not drunk.
You can only tell with the slightest of slurred words, and the fact that there is no more bite in his tongue. He may sway slightly while walking, but it'd be hard to tell if you were also drunk.
At the end of the night he'll take a shower and brush his teeth (about time), to get rid of the alcohol smell. He'll pop into your room to make sure you made it to bed alright before finding his way to hiw own room. And if you do share a bedroom, then he'll crawl in behind you and be unusually a bit more cuddling than normal.
He'll be up way before you in the morning, having left some water and meds by your bed and being down stairs cooking up breakfast for the two of you.
Strife
He is hell of fun to drink with, in the beginning that is.
He'll laugh, crack jokes, and even nudge you when you aren't taking a sip. A real partier, so even if it's just the two of you, he fully expects you to yell "Chug Chug Chug" as he downs his glasses. Of course, he'll do the same if you decide to chug.
But eventually he'll flip on a dime and just start crying. It's the worst because there is no warning either. Just
"I'm the bestest friend/partner in the whole world right?"
"Do you love me (Y/n)? Because I love youuuu! Tell me you love meeeee!"
And he's also very clingy. He'll literally hang off you, quickly remind him that you are infact human or otherwise you'll end op on the floor with him.
To avoid this, either head to bed early so he'll do the same, or take him out drinking. If he's around people he won't be like that. Although the car ride home (either by uber or the other siblings. Uber definitely prefered if you dont want to hear a screaming match between siblings) would be a different story, but at least you got to have a longer time to have fun.
Although if you tuck him in, and even as his friend cuddle him through the night, he'll be less of a whiny bitch.
In the morning, he'll most definitely be sluggish and whiny. Keep him away from his siblings because they don't tolerate that shit no more lmfao. Make sure your Strife has plenty of water and meds, and order him food.
Fury
She'll often have a few drinks to get tipsy, but will stop drinking at that point. She doesn't enjoy the hangovers in the morning, and she's often been told she's a raging drunk.
She'll never turn that rage onto you. She thinks you're far too soft and pitiful to do that. No, instead, you'll find her screaming at the wall she accidentally bumped into for 10 minutes straight.
Or trying to pick fights with people, so I suggest keeping her away from her siblings at this time. She won't pick fights with humans though, but I still suggest staying away from bars as she will still find something to scream at. (Like the TV. Everyone is screaming about the silly game, why can't she?)
At the end of the night she will definitely soften some more, and make her way to her own bed. She will not give two fucks if you make it to your bed, unless you share a bed.
In the morning she'll be awfully quiet and just cluching her head at the table. Don't dare to comment on it, just give her some meds and water. You can try feeding her but she'll just push it away.
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