#protective Horsemen
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Thank you to the marvellous @humboltsquid for commissioning a fanfic with pregnant Reader attempting to hide said pregnancy from the Horsemen because she fears they'll buy into the social rhetoric surrounding single mothers who don't know who the father is.
TW: Vomiting, morning sickness, drinking, Pregnancy, briefest allusion to sa, no actual sa took place, everything was consensual, both parties were drunk, Reader remembers most of the night except the guy's face and name. Horsemen are predictably angry about someone touching their little sister.
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Porcelain, cold and consolidated, bites into the sensitive skin of your palms as you grip the edge of the bathroom sink, your arms locked like overheated pistons just to keep yourself standing upright in defiance of how your legs seem determined to collapse out from underneath your weight.
To your right, the loo gurgles noisily, flushing away any traces of the meal you’d spewed up into it only moments ago. At least the sound helps to drown out a voice thundering at you from the other side of the door.
“Let us in!”
Fumbling with the tap for a moment, you bend down, spooning a palmful of fresh, cooling water into your mouth. As you do so, you spare a baleful glance down at the loo again, and the food lost to its pipes… Perfectly good rations… all gone to waste.
Five years on from the Great Resurrection and Earth’s agricultural efforts are finally on a steady incline. While the food situation isn’t anywhere near as desperate as it was when Humanity woke up to a world without excess, that doesn’t mean you’re particularly pleased to see precious rations wasted because you couldn’t hold them down.
And now that you’re supposed to be eating for two…
Groaning, your expression twists into a look of remorse, and you place one hand gently on your stomach, roaming a palm over the bump that lays hidden beneath the baggiest jumper you could find. You’re only too aware that it won’t be so easy to hide the swell in another couple of months.
You barely manage to bite back another miserable groan as a colossal fist hammers against the door so viciously, you almost wonder if the wood will splinter and break, which starts to seem more likely when seconds later, a familiar voice booms out, “If you don’t open this door, I’m tearing it from its frame!”
Ah… That’ll be War; youngest of the Four Horsemen, an armoured, muscle-bound colossus who also just so happens to be one of your very dearest friends.
A friend who has been growing rightfully suspicious of you over these last couple of months…
There are only so many excuses you can fall back on to explain away your frequent and unexpected dashes for the nearest bathroom. You can only thank the Creator that neither of the Four seem all that well-versed on the more delicate biological functions of humans.
Swiping a wrist over the back of your mouth, you lean away from the sink and assess yourself in the mirror, doing your best to ignore the taste of vomit still sitting like a layer of fuzz on the roof of your mouth.
‘How long are you going to keep this up?’ you pose to your reflection, her sleep-stained eyes bearing back into yours as if she too has had the same question.
It’s been like this for a few weeks now, ever since the dreaded Morning Sickness wrapped its hands around your guts and wrung them with a relentlessness that leaves you scrambling for the closest bathroom at least twice a day.
It wasn’t this bad in the first trimester… Now entering your second, things are getting a Hell of a lot harder to manage. To hide.
Slowly letting your eyes slip shut, you exhale through your nostrils in exasperation as a different voice accompanies the first. “Kid? I uh… I think he means it. We just wanna make sure you haven’t drowned in there.”
Strife… The humour he tries to inject into his quip is overshadowed by his hand rattling at the doorknob. He’s worried. They all are. You wouldn’t have thought it possible, if you didn’t know them personally, though each Horseman will swear up and down they don’t ever feel such trivial, human emotions.
Actions, however, speak louder than words.
Their sister, Fury, has hardly left your side ever since Mrs Gaffe tutted at you from across the hallway and you immediately retreated into your apartment, leant back against the door and wept into your hands. She didn’t know… She didn’t know Mrs Gaffe who lives on your floor is also a chemist, and she’s also the very woman who sold you your pregnancy test… and the subsequent tests you went back for when the first came up positive. You’d spent over an hour convincing Fury that, no, she doesn’t need to defend your honour by besting old Mrs Gaffe in combat. Though you let her know you appreciated the gesture.
You try to think the best of your neighbours. And you certainly didn’t like to think of Mrs Gaffe being a gossip, but judging by the curious and frequently disdainful glances other people in the building sent your way, you soon came to realise your secret was not such a secret after all.
You’re pregnant. And the father is nowhere to be found.
You only hope word doesn’t get back to the Horsemen somehow. You don’t think you could bear it if their gazes turned sharp and pointed as well.
Outside the bathroom door, you hear War grunt at Strife to move aside, and at last, you decide you’ve stalled enough.
Shoving yourself off the sink, you spin around on a hell, regretting the action as a wave of dizziness threatens to knock you back down to Earth, but it’s soon dispelled with a deep breath and a second to gather yourself, calling, “Okay, okay, I’m coming out.”
Someone – Strife, you think – grumbles, “Finally.”
Grabbing the handle, you pull the door towards yourself and tilt your head back, blinking up at the two, immense shapes blocking the entire width of your hallway. If it weren’t for the space between your bedroom and bathroom being meagre at best, you imagine you’d have the remaining two behemoths cramped in there as well.
“When did you guys get to be so clingy.”
War’s ice-blue eyes glare down at you from beneath a crimson hood.
You start to edge past them, feeling like a fish trying to squeeze between a pair of grizzlies. Just as you make it past and put your back to them entirely, you hear Strife announce, “All right. That’s it.”
“What’s it?” you ask hesitantly as he advances on you, his heavy, metal boots thudding on the carpet. Before you can react, the Horseman suddenly slings a bulky arm around your waist and hoists you off your feet, tucking you into his side. You’re forced to fold almost in half, bent over Strife’s uncomfortable gauntlet with most of the pressure bearing down on your stomach.
“STRIFE!” you exclaim, horrified.
“I’m not lettin’ you go until you tell us what’s been goin’ on with you,” he huffs, clomping into the living room with War bringing up the rear. By the window, Death twists his bone-mask towards the commotion, his shoulders flattening, unimpressed. “Brother…” he warns.
Fury too, tosses Strife her own disparaging glare from the sofa and barks, “Is it truly necessary to manhandle the human?”
You, however, hardly pay attention to a word they exchange. Your mind is utterly and wholly on the point of your stomach that’s digging into the Horseman’s gauntlet. You can cope with the discomfort, but it isn’t just you anymore.
There’s no thought to the cry you let out, just a plea borne of a desire to protect the little life growing inside you, by any means necessary. “Strife!” you exclaim, smacking your palms against his armoured thigh in a bid to relieve some of the pressure around your gut. “Put me down! The baby-!”
No sooner has the word left your lips than you find the arm restraining you springing open, letting you tumble to the floor. A jolt shoots through you as your hands and knees strike the carpet, but all you can celebrate in that moment is that the strength of a Horseman is no longer curled around your vulnerable stomach.
You don’t look up at the Horsemen until you’ve pushed yourself back to your feet, patting down your jumper. When you do happen to glance up, your face immediately falls.
Death has shifted from his position by the window and now stands several, jarring feet closer, he and Fury both, in fact. The latter has somehow leapt from her seat on the sofa in the time it took you to gather yourself up off the floor.
But more disconcertingly, they’re still. Utterly motionless as if they’ve been caught in a pocket of frozen time.
Gulping, you tentatively twist your head over a shoulder, only to find War and Strife are in much the same state.
Strife has backed up to stand next to his brother, his liquid-gold eyes round beneath his visor, neither one of them twitching so much as a single muscle. It’s… eerie. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so still before. Death, maybe, but not the other three.
It only occurs to you then that you might have let something slip.
Then, at last, just as you wet your lips to call out to one of them…
“What did you say?” Fury breathes, cutting neatly through the heavy blanket of silence draped over the room.
Blinking owlishly, you turn back to face her, your mind scrambling for an adequate response.
“What… what do you mean, ‘what did I say?’”
Feigning ignorance it is.
You actually leap several inches off the ground when the Horseman suddenly explodes back into motion, storming forwards in your direction and exclaiming, “What baby?!”
“B-baby?” you double down, backing away from her until your spine collides with a solid torso – War. “Who said anything about a baby?”
“You just did!”
“Did I?”
“Y/n…” Death utters in a slow and cautious tone as though he’s afraid you’ll bolt at the slightest provocation - Hell, given the furtive glances you keep swinging around his side at the door to your apartment, he might be in the ballpark. His voice alone carries enough authority to silence his sister, and more than enough to make you clamp your jaws shut painfully tight. “You’re with child?”
It’s strange, but despite the inflection on his last word, you get the impression he isn’t asking you if you’re pregnant, but merely whether you’re ready to admit to the fact.
The hopelessness of it all dawns on you when you meet his enduring, gilded stare.
He knows.
And if Death knows, there’s little point in continuing your efforts of duping the other three. In spite of outward appearances and their frequent, often frightening disagreements, the Four Horsemen have a bond stronger than tungsten. So, with a head that suddenly feels weighed down by months of secrecy and deflection, you lower your gaze to the floor near his boots and give a slow, sombre nod.
It’s as though your little confirmation is all that they needed to lift the veil on any and all doubts.
The shadows they cast on your carpet suddenly start to tremble as an overhead light flickers, strobing on and off until it sputters weakly back to life and holds steady, albeit dimmer than it had been before.
The Horsemen seem to grow in size, muscled shoulders bulge like raised hackles and four sets of eyes flare with an ethereal light as they shift their weight, bearing down on you like toppling monoliths.
“I’m gonna kill ‘em,” Strife mutters venomously under his breath, “I’m gonna kill whatever bastard laid a finger on-”
“-W h o t o u c h e d y o u?” the eldest Horseman’s growl cuts him off. It’s guttural and animalistic, so much so that you can’t withhold a flinch. You could count on one hand the number of times Death has outwardly lost his temper, which makes it all the more alarming to witness.
Stumbling over your words for a beat, you keep your eyes fixed to the floor as the Old One stalks across the meagre living space towards you, his ominous shadow growing along the carpet to swallow you whole. When it seems he’s right on top of you, you finally blurt out, “N-Nobody!”
In hindsight, that wasn’t the most logical answer.
Fury – her vibrant hair whipping behind her like angry, coiling snakes - scoffs, tucking her arms firmly across her chest. “Nobody?” she parrots, “I’m no expert, but don’t these things usually involve two parties?”
“Great! Now she’s lying to us,” Strife barks, pacing back and forth behind you and throwing a hand up to rake the fingers of his metal gauntlet through his stiff, black hair, “I don’t believe this, we go off world for two weeks-!”
“Were you hurt?” War’s voice, though less jagged than Death’s, is pitched low enough to rumble through you until it resounds inside your chest. You can feel his presence behind you, too close for comfort, the living embodiment of rage and violence.
You suddenly fear for the man whose face and name you can’t recall.
“I… no,” you protest, hugging your elbows close, “It wasn’t anything like… like that. It was an accident! We were out drinking, and I-“
“DRINKING!?”
Your mouth snaps shut as Death lurches towards you, and you’re finally forced to tear your eyes off the carpet when his sinewy fingers slide around your biceps and he hauls you a foot off the ground, holding you up to his mask and subjecting you a shout that’s rife with unparalleled urgency. “You know what that does to a human’s inhibitions!” he demands.
His hands are gentle, neither hurting nor bruising the delicate skin on your bare arms, but the power behind even his gentlest grasp is frustratingly insurmountable.
You’ve never liked how easily he can manhandle you. “Yes, Death! I know what alcohol does!” you snap back, kicking your legs and trying to twist out of his grip, “I’m not a kid anymore, stop treating me like one! And put me down!”
You’re aware that your point is all a matter of perspective. For the Horsemen, there’ll always be some small part of them that continues to see you as a youngling. You’re human, after all. A hundred years wouldn’t even see a Nephilim out of adolescence. Not to mention that the Horsemen have all but declared you as one of them… One of theirs - an unconventional, human sibling they’ve taken into their fold.
It's not so easy for them to simply stop seeing you as their little sister, no matter how much you might wish they would sometimes.
As your retort fades into silence, Death blinks, recoiling his head slightly with wider eyes, and it will only occur to you later just how rare it is to make Death falter.
The other three, although their bodies still quiver with barely contained adrenaline, have fallen quiet whilst you stare down their eldest until at last, he lowers you gingerly to the floor, setting you safely on the carpet once again and retrieving his hands.
You’d never dare to say it aloud, but in that moment, something like shame flashes over the dark sockets of his mask.
“Why didn’t you tell us, kid?” Strife asks, the crux of his question tinged by badly concealed hurt.
“This, Strife,” you sigh, throwing your arms out towards he and his siblings, exasperated. Fury with her face set into a thunderous scowl. War’s metal gauntlets curled into bludgeoning fists. Even Strife is idly tracing a finger on the stock of Redemption in its holster, and Death – especially Death – whose ancient magics are still causing the lamps in your room to fade in and out…
Heaving another, immense sigh, you continue, “This is why I didn’t tell you.” Well. It’s one of the reasons, but at this point, it’s a fairly vital one. “I mean, look at you!”
Each Horseman shares a glance with one another.
“You’re all raring to go on a manhunt to find a guy who didn’t even do anything wrong!”
“Didn’t do anything wrong?” War grunts, teeth still bared despite following the lead of Death and reeling in his temper, if only slightly, “He mated with you-“
“Oh, hell, War, don’t say it like that,” Strife complains, grimacing under his visor.
“-and now you carry his child, and he has abandoned you both?”
Biting at the soft flesh inside your cheek, you withhold a frustrated groan and remind yourself that War’s sense of Honour is vastly inflated. The ‘father’ of your child’s ignorance won’t excuse his absence, not in War’s eyes.
Even so, you try to dissuade any ideas of retribution before they can gain traction.
“He didn’t abandon us, War. He probably doesn’t even remember I exist! Goodness knows I can hardly remember that night…” You trail off, lowering your gaze to the floor.
Death’s eyes are suddenly the hardest to meet. You recall your first introduction to Lilith; the self-proclaimed mother of all Nephilim, and subsequently the Horsemen themselves. You know of the demoness’s… reputation. You also know firsthand how much the Eldest Horseman despises her. You’re terrified Death will see something of Lilith in you, that you’d be so liberal with your own body as to end up with a child.
The inside of your eyelids start to burn. “And now everyone is gonna think I’m just some skank who went and got knocked-up by a stranger and… and-… They’re always gonna look at my kid and wonder who the father is. I don’t even know who the father is.”
There are tears prickling at your eyelashes, but you force your hands into fists at your sides, refusing to wipe them away lest your draw attention to them. The Horsemen see anyway.
Light blooms back to its full power across your apartment, your lamps stop trembling, and a pale finger crooks beneath your chin, tilting your head back until you’re peering up at a stoic mask of bone.
Death’s ebony hair falls in curtains around his face as he bends a little to speak to you in a hushed yet urgent tone. “He didn’t…” Hesitating, he draws in an unnecessary breath to fill dead lungs and alters his trajectory. “You were not forced…?”
You wish you didn’t know why that question is so important to Death, why the concept of consent means more to him than it might the others.
“No,” you reiterate miserably, “That’s one thing I do remember. I wanted, uh… it, at the time, a-and so did he. He didn’t know this would happen any more than I did.” You pause to lay a hand over your stomach, furrowing your brow as you give it a pensive stare and missing the way Death’s shoulders slump with relief. After a second or two, you hesitantly raise your chin to look him in the eye again, hoping that what little determination you can inject into your voice will hold strong. “… Look, I’m not proud of it, but it happened. I can’t change things… and… I’m keeping them. I’m sorry, but I’m keeping this baby.”
You hold your breath, expecting arguments, expecting a rebuttal or perhaps even a scoff or two.
“Why would you be sorry for that?” Strife pipes up instead.
It throws you off kilter. Pulling away from Death, you swivel around to frown uncertainly at War and his brother, fiddling with the hem of your jumper’s sleeve. “Well… I mean… I-I’m having the baby…“
When you don’t say anything further, War raises a hand and pulls down his hood, exposing the full extent of his wispy, white hair. “Yes?” he prompts, the unspoken ‘and?’ ringing clear as a bell.
“I’m having the… baby of a… of a man I don’t… know?” you finish slowly, glancing at each of them in turn.
“Big deal!” Strife announces so abruptly, you have to do a double-take, “You don’t need him to help you raise a little human! You’ve got us!”
Nodding her head, Fury adds, “Far be it from me to agree with Strife, but… in this case, he may be right.”
War grunts his own agreement, and when you throw an incredulous look at Death, you’re floored to see him dipping his head in concurrence as well.
“You’re…” Darting your tongue out to wet your dry lips, you squint at the eldest Horseman, asking, “You’re not angry?”
He’s quiet for some time, contemplative even as his gaze roves lower until it comes to a stop on your torso. Then, gently, he replies, “The only qualm I have is that you’ve been trying to bear this weight on your own two shoulders. And while I wish you had told us sooner, at least now we know how to help you.”
“Help me?” you utter, voice cracking.
Death’s eyes dance with a sudden fondness. “Well,” he replies, “As I’m sure Strife has told you repeatedly-“
“- you’re one of us,” said brother butts in, expertly finishing Death’s sentence and stepping up beside you to lay a heavy palm on your shoulder, “We take care of our own. Same goes for your kid.”
You’re too late to stop a choked noise from escaping the base of your throat, but before you can say anything, War steps forwards, towering over you as he pounds a solid, metal fist against his chest, directly over his heart in a show of allegiance.
“You and yours will always have the protection of the Four,” he proclaims.
“You… you don’t have to, you know,” you sniff, swiping a few fingers beneath your eyes, “I signed up for this baby, you guys didn’t. It’s okay if you don’t want to get involved because -“
“-Oh, don’t talk such nonsense,” Fury gruffly interjects, “You’re sorely mistaken if you think either one of us will be leaving your side for the foreseeable future.”
“Fury,” you laugh wetly, aiming a wobbly smile at her, “You mean that?”
The surly Horseman’s lip curls but she merely shrugs and retorts, “I may not care much for children, but someone will have to stick around to teach our youngling how to fight.”
Our youngling…
Your heart squeezes appreciatively, even if she might not have noticed the slip.
“That’s just her way of sayin’ she cares about children if it’s yours,” Strife’s voice murmurs in your ear, and with a gentle nudge at the small of your back, he pushes you towards the sofa his sister has vacated. If Fury hears him, she doesn’t dispute his words.
As you’re herded to sit down, War, ever the more practical of his siblings, is busy casting a rather dissatisfied look around your apartment, making a quick mental note to ramp up fortifications. He’ll have to schedule watches between himself and his siblings too…
“I can’t believe it,” you mutter, half to yourself, half to the Horsemen, sinking down among the cushions of your sofa and shaking your head, “I’ve been so worried about telling you guys I’m pregnant, and you’re just… okay with it.”
“As if we’d be anything else,” Death sighs, roving a quick look over you from head to toe. Squinting slightly, he adds, “Hmm… I’m not, however, okay that you can’t seem to keep food down lately. I take it that’s why you’ve been disappearing so suddenly of late?”
Giving him a sheepish nod, you shuffle to one side, allowing Strife to flop heavily onto the sofa next to you, his enormous thigh squashing you up against the arm rest. “I’ll go for more rations in a bit,” he announces, eager to provide.
“I can go,” you say, “They are for me, after all.”
Burly shoulders bristle in a display of faux authority as Strife instantly argues, “Nuh uh. You’re stayin’ right here where it’s safe.” He grumbles a nonsensical sound, then begrudgingly admits, “Hate you leavin’ at the best of times…”
Despite the niggle of exasperation that begs you to remind them you’re not helpless, just pregnant, you offer him a warm grin and bump your shoulder against his side, saying, “You’re going to make a great uncle, Strife.”
To say the Horseman’s mask almost flies off as he whips his torso around to face you would be an understatement.
You have to lean back, as though pushed away by the sheer intensity of his blazing stare. “What’d you say?” he breathes.
“I… oh, I, er…” Realising you may have overstepped, you swiftly attempt to backtrack. “I mean, that’s not what you have to be called, I was just-“
“-Uncle... That’s the brother of a human’s parent…” His eyes shine like the sun as they bore into you across the sofa. “Right?”
Uncertain, you quirk a brow at him. “Uh, yeah?”
He contemplates that for a second before he asks in a far smaller voice that almost doesn’t sound as if it belongs to the boisterous Horseman you know, “I’m your brother?”
“Of… course?” you blink, surprised that he’d need to even ask that question, “Of course you are. You said it yourself, I’m one of you. Sorry to say it, but that goes both ways. You’re my brother Strife. A-and if you’re okay with it… I’d like you to be this baby’s uncle.” Tearing your eyes off the sharpshooter whilst he none-too subtly coming apart at your side, you send a tentative look up at War, peering at him from under your lashes. “You too, big guy. But! Only if that’s okay with you? I just… want them to grow up knowing who their family is…”
War coughs into a mighty fist, hoping to hide the tiny smile that’s trying to bloom at the sides of his mouth, “In that case, it would be an honour to be acknowledged as the child’s ‘Uncle,’ until my dying breath.”
Always so serious. Giving your head a fond shake, you flash their sister a knowing look and call, “What about Aunt Fury? You on board?”
“Hmph, well,” she shrugs one shoulder, turning to glare at the wall, “It… has a nice ring to it, I suppose.”
You’re not fooled. The way she’s keeps having to wrestle the corners of her lips back into a terse line speaks volumes.
“Of course, I haven’t forgotten about you, Death,” you say, at last addressing the Reaper who is watching the proceeding with a calm, reserved expression. At least until he catches the little smirk lifting your cheeks. “Or should I say, Grandpa Death.”
At once, the Nephilim’s expression flattens, unimpressed. “If you introduce me to that child as ‘Grandpa Death,’ perhaps I won’t be sticking around.”
“Ah, you love it, Gramps, don’t try to deny it,” Strife teases, leaning in to stage-whisper in your ear, “Look at him, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the miserable bastard this happy.”
You have to stifle a snicker for Death’s sake. True to form though, while his eldest brother’s fearsome scowl persists when it lingers on Strife, it soon grows soft again upon turning back to you.
And in that one look, shared between a human and the eldest surviving Nephilim, you realise categorically that Death is with you. All of them are. They aren’t worried about your reputation. They won’t concern themselves with the idle gossip of your neighbours.
They’re family, as is the small spark of life steadily growing inside your stomach.
And father or no, your child is still going to grow up under the watchful eye of the Universe's most diligent and protective guardians.
#Darksiders#darksiders 2#darksiders 3#commission#found family#pregnant reader#hiding pregnancy#fluff#hurt/comfort#protective horsemen#allusions to SA
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"Hold on! This wave will pass!"
Having trouble jumping back into those inktober prompts, so I'm doodling just straight up horsemen, hoping to get my groove back. ^^;
#darksiders#darksiders genesis#darksiders war#darksiders strife#brothers in arms#horsemen of the apocalypse#gothic fantasy#digital illustration#sibling stuff#fanart#my art#digital art#video games#protection mode activate!#also didn't want to struggle with Strife's visor#realisticly i think it would get knocked off during the Dagon fight#big waves are no joke
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Vulgrim: *crept to steal your soul while you are asleep*
War *behind him*
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In case the first one bugged out.
youtube
#Youtube#bible prophecy endtimes#end times#endtimes#jesus is coming#bibleprophecy#follow jesus#time is running out#spread the word#pestilence#birth pangs#signs of the end times#wars and rumors of wars#jesus is returning#faith in jesus#lawlessness#rapture of the church#stand fast in the faith#seven year tribulation#time to repent#give glory to god#antichrist#the four horsemen of the apocalypse#government uprising#God’s hand of protection#america divided#america desolation#end of days#repent#jesus is the way
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i cannot for the life of me make a decision about this, so do you have any headcanons on opinions on what banks would've been like if she had gone to high school ?? what tropes or clichés she would've been closest to embodying ?? because we know em was a nerd, that winter struggled for the obvious reasons but ultimately was fine in hs and fairly normal, rika was decently popular but far from the cheerleader level... but banks, i can't place what she would've been like if she'd gone to high school. we know she's very smart, but i can't see her as someone holed up in a library. then, we can also probably deduce that if she had gone to high school, damon would've been crazy protective but i still can't really make a set decision on much else regarding how banks' storyline/personality would've gone if she did indeed attend Thunder Bay prep or some other high school, minus these small details.
i do think she & emory would've got on like a house on fire if she attended TBP as they would've been in the same grade and probably had similar opinions on high school hierarchy and the horsemen and general thunder bay weirdness and extravagancy. they would've dissed people so thoroughly and easily with their quips and banter, for sure.
Ohh I have thought about this.
It can go so many ways, because as same with Emory, the debate is "was she naturally someone different and the circumstances made her this way? Or is it that she survived the circumstances because this is who she is naturally?"
Did Banks do so well in Gabriel's house because that's who she is, or did being in that house make her that way. In Hideaway, she mentions that she never cut her long hair because it was the last part of "Nikova." Additionally, her struggle with Damon is wanting to be her own person and to experience things other teenagers - normal teenagers - experience. But if she were a normal teenager, would she still value those experiences, or would they be mundane and expected?
I chose to think High School AU Banks would fall somewhere in the middle. She'd still be a bit of a tom-boy, and a bit of a rebel. In my AUs, she still lives with Lucinda, but Damon wants her close, so Gabriel pays for her to attend TBP. She's smart, but not without effort. She's not afraid to get involved throw down if she sees something she doesn't like. She's careful, though, and never throws the first punch, so she can always claim self-defense. It's helpful that she's a bit of a sarcastic smart ass and naturally skilled at goading people.
In school, she'd appear to be generally nonchalant about stuff, but she actually has a lot of opinions. It comes as a surprise to the teachers, who were not expecting Damon Torrance's younger sister to be so... outspoken. And argumentative.
Having a bit more freedom, and hopefully a healthy relationship with her brother, she’d probably be known for fighting with Damon in the halls over how protective he is. Like, he can’t even let her project partner talk to her without going all big brother on her.
Seriously, get a life, dude. Maybe if you had as much confidence talking to your little dancer friend as you do telling me what to do, you’d actually have a girlfriend. Newsflash, bro, there are certain things I can’t and won’t do for you.
I don’t see her wanting to participate in any extracurricular activities, but with a school like Thunder Bay Prep, it would probably be expected. I can’t see her wanting to be on a team, so Girl’s Basketball probably isn’t a good match…
Oh. You know, with her being a bit of a sleuth in Hideaway and tailing Kai to get his routine, she’d probably make a good Yearbook photographer. Or maybe working on their school paper. Maybe something along those lines that keeps her out of the spotlight. Though, I don't know what Banks would want to do growing up. Maybe she does go into student government, wanting to make changes that actually make sense and benefit the students, instead of planting a tree as the senior gift for the fifth year in a row (do these people even know what they could do with this much money, or do they only know how to add when it's involving cases of beer and tits?). Maybe she does it because she's tired of seeing Chloe get everything and wanted to challenge her, and then sort of accidentally ended up class president.
Actually, I like that...Emory makes fun of her for it all the time.
Speaking of Emory, they are best friends. Both come from more humble backgrounds, which would naturally make them targets for bullies, but not this time. Because the whole school knows wherever Emory goes, Banks is close by. And wherever Banks is, Damon is close by. And wherever Damon is, the Horsemen are close by. Not to mention, Will is a horseman, and he’s always close to wherever Emory is…
Not that Banks and Em need them. They're pretty good with the tongue lashings, themselves.
Without a doubt, Banks goes to every single one of Emmy’s activities to show support. She hangs out when Emmy’s working on her projects, and helps when she needs a hand. They both have a crush on a Horseman, but they only talk (read: tease each other) about that when they can guarantee no one can hear them.
I headcanon Banks, Emmy, and Elle are a pretty solid trio. Emmy's smart and artsy, Elle's a soft-hearted romantic, always talking about dating but never taking her own advice, and Banks plays the rebel without a cause who loves her two friends.
Anyway, have some pics that would definitely be in Banks' friend's (so Emmy and Elle) camera roll.
that last one's from Banks of will and emmy. (i've never seen love, rosie, so I don't know context. but I know in a willemmy high school au that has yet to be written, this scene will happen)
Let me know what you think! Or if my headcanons helped inspire some of yours. This was really fun, thanks for the ask.
#asked and answered 270#asked and answered#devil's night series#devil's night series stuff#devils night#nikova banks#ko's headcanons
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pt VI good omens s1e2, a totally all-inclusive summary i remember everything
i don't, that's a lie. i lie like aziraphale, rarely and badly but with great gaslight energy.
alright well let's not dawdle for 6000 years, i'll forget what i DO remember.
An angel named Gabriel who is not Jimbriel yet, so a foetus Jimbriel, gets into Aziraphale's bookstore and yells about pornography to keep humans from following him into Aziraphale's secret back chamber.
What they do there, I do not know. It is up to speculation. They talk and Aziraphale is flustered about Crowley, I think, but that's the whole show so far.
The intro sequence remains strange. Cartoon Aziraphale is an impregnated chicken, cartoon Crowley is the baby daddy.
There are witch hunters and they want to burn Agnes Nutter alive. I don't know who Anges Nutter is yet.
We cut to Agnes Nutter and I know I will never forget her. She is beautiful and a BAMF. A MILF. An absolute bombshell.
The bombshell part is literal. They set her on fire and she explodes, killing all those in a 100 metre radius. I want to be her.
I assume it is a witch thing, but then find out she put bombs under her skirts. I want to be her, but more ardently.
There is a book. She writes prophecies in it.
There are horsemen of the apocalypse, which I forgot was still happening. We are in present day.
War kills everyone. She is pretty. She is not Warlock, the kid whom Aziraphale and Crowley raised.
Famine is a sexy beast, and runs Michelin star restaurants. He likes tiny food. He is developing foodless food.
If there are others, I do not notice. There could be. There really could be. There probably are.
There is a girl who scribbles on the book from earlier. She grows up. I think she is War. I am wrong. This is probably a good time to mention to Tumblr that I have mild issues with facial recognition, which is totally not going to affect my understanding of what is happening at all.
She is named Anathema. That could be someone else. What is real? Not Neil Gaiman.
She finds the Antichrist and the Them, and they are all playing at a witch hunt. The Antichrist does not have an aura. Yellow is fear. Yellow is joy. I lose track of what is happening for several scenes.
Newt is works in an office. There is a power cut. Newt no longer works at an office.
Newt joins a witch hunt.
There is a delivery man. I think he is Newt. I am wrong. His name is something resembling Judy. It is an easy mistake, everyone's reaction to not-Newt-maybe-Judy is the same as that to Newt, deep protective love.
Crowley and Aziraphale steal a Bentley. Find a Bentley? I am unsure. I am too busy looking at Crowley.
Crowley speeds. Crowley likes speeding. They hit a motorbike that has maybe-Anathema. They pick her up and take her to a house somewhere. The Bentley plays Queen music. Everyone is very excited about this. Beepop.
Maybe-Anathema enters the house. This could have been before she finds the Antichrist. But if the show isn't linear I don't have to be either, I decide.
Crowley and Aziraphale panic a lot, but find time to eye each other hungrily and lovingly. They have priorities, and I respect that.
Crowley yells at his plants to grow better. He pretends to kill one of them. I cannot believe I was entirely right about my interpretation of that GIF. I am filled with confused anger. Later I find out that he is projecting how heaven told him he was a disappointment and threw him out. I am no longer angry. I am sad. This is an ongoing thing when it comes to Crowley.
A major plot point is Dog, the best friend of the Antichrist, having a face off with a fat tabby cat. Dog loses. It was doomed from the start.
Aziraphale gaslights gatekeeps and girlbosses. He assures heaven that everything is under control. It is not. That is okay. I think.
Heaven asks about Crowley. Aziraphale gets flustered. This is as per usual and he assures them that he is battling Crowley, who keeps him on his toes. I not-so-privately think that Crowley keeps him on his knees, really.
Things happen. I'm too busy thinking about Aziraphale's puppy eyes. He is a bitchy sweetheart. I love him.
More things happen. I'm too busy thinking about Crowley's sexy hips and shoulders and, well, everything.
The episode ends. I am still thinking about Crowley. I am always thinking about Crowley. Everyone is always thinking about Crowley.
This... this is all I remember. Have it, Tumblr.
#good omens#good omens summary#good omens mascot#good omens fandom#crowley#aziraphale#azirowley#aziracrow#aziraley#good ineffable omens#lgbtqia#queer#ineffable husbands#ineffable spouses#david tennant#michael sheen#crowley's hips and hair
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Crazy theory, but since I don't really read them, I don't know if it's ever been mentioned before.
I've already talked about this urge to discover the demon of death. So much so that fans see them in every new character introduced.
We know that Pochita punctuates both the birth and death of demons with his chainsaws.
I've always been surprised by the way Pochita calmly took hold of Makima, allowing Denji to knowingly save her by recommending that he give her love
Just as I'm surprised by Fami's interest in separating Chainsaw Man just as Yoru is stubbornly intent on revenge
How can these three horsemen of the apocalypse have so much interest and connection with a single demon?
We already know that Fujimoto has opted for the metaphorical, choosing the instrument designed for childbirth: the chainsaw, as the keystone of his story.
Chainsaw Man is intrinsically linked to birth and death
Denji's rebirth alone is linked to death having been cut up as well as Pochita?
Demons are born out of fear of one thing, so I know it might be strange that Pochita, representing chainsaws, represents death and isn't the chainsaw demon.
But two things: firstly, the impostor is actually the real chainsaw demon.
Fujimoto likes to undo our first impressions, so I find it absolutely INCREDIBLE that Denji should be the impostor from the start, the false Chainsaw Man in a part 2 that focuses on identity.
Secondly, how can simple chainsaws have so much power? I mean, sure, they're scary, but how can they have so much power as to be able to wipe out demons? Why should it be the chainsaw demon who's capable of this, and death remains crouched in the shadows?
This would also explain his promiscuity with the other Knights of the Apocalypse.
The demon of control wanted to play with Pochita - death was the only thing she couldn't totally control, the only thing she aspired to be on an equal footing with.
If Pochita understood her so well, it was as the fourth knight of the apocalypse. If Makima considered him her equal, it was because she couldn't control a demon she knew to be of her own rank. The logic follows with Nayuta.
The demon of war doesn't accept death, it accepts to spread it through conflicts and weapons of mass murder, but a general doesn't accept that death can touch him too. To spread death represents victory, to be touched by it a defeat that demands vengeance.
Famine works hand in hand with death, and is feared because suffering and death are the end result of not being able to eat. She's the one with the clearest goal at the moment: to save humanity. She doesn't hesitate to recruit her fellow Apocalypse members, whether it's proposing it to Nayuta, trying to recruit Asa and Yoru, or splitting Chainsaw Man in two to work with the pure state of the death demon.
The public hunters' aim is also to protect mankind from Nostradamus' prophecy, but by paralyzing death's actions as much as possible. They exploit Denji's flaws and desire to be normal to the full, threatening those around him. While the church, represented by Fami, titillates Denji's heroic side, his abnormalities, they want death to act.
It would also explain why everyone close to Denji is disappearing.
All the signs are pointing to Asa's imminent atrocity.
Wouldn't it be incredible to think that it's because death is in Denji's belly ?
Everything would then make sense: it's normal for Denji's development to stagnate, and for him to go through so many existential crises.
He doesn't know his own identity
What's more, it doesn't contradict my most meta theories: Fujimoto places himself in the work through Denji (cf. chapter 133), just as he responds directly to his fans (chapters 136 and 137).
We're all hating him, seeing all our favorite characters meet unfortunate deaths
It would all make sense if the manga we were holding in our hands, "Chainsaw Man", actually referred directly to death right from the start.
It would all make sense if we saw Part 1 as Denji's introduction to the ranks of hunters governed by an early death.
It would make sense for Aki's love for him to be a metaphor for accepting death, in the continuity of mourning.
It would make sense for Power to be reassured by Death when traumatized by the demon of darkness: she died twice for love, and the total disappearance of body and spirit allows us to escape the darkness.
I don't know if this theory holds, but let's agree...
It's poetic
#csm#asa chainsaw man#chainsaw man#csm part 2#denji#asa#nayuta#fami#makima#yoru#barem#death devil#pochita#theory
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There's something so significant to me about Arthur's relationship with not just Charles, but Taima too.
Horses are a vital extension of each of the gang members, in personality and in their uses. Charles and Arthur especially are very skilled horsemen, they understand their horses needs and boundaries to a T.
It's a reoccurring joke in-game that the gang members respective horses won't let anyone ride or pet them except their owners, but there's a level of truth in that too. Early on, Arthur will mention how The Count immediately bucked him off when he once tried to ride him and how protective the horse is of Dutch.
That's a well known example, but if you take the time to try and pet the horses in camp, you'll see how skittish or unreceptive majority of the horses are to Arthur.
Taima, however, is quite docile. She is one of the few horses who doesn't get skittish in camp and gives no resistance to being pet by Arthur. She was happy to be ridden by Arthur in chapter one and responded to him well - which makes me think that she was likely used multiple times in place of Boadicea before the game began, or that she generally liked Arthur because of how close Charles was with him too.
There's also the significance in that Taima is the first and likely the last horse Arthur would ride in the events of rdr2, Charles could only carry Arthur's body so far on his own. Thank you, Taima.
#ououoi#it hurts#but I like to think that charles and his personality is reflected in taima too#quiet but quick and willing to go with the flow#flashback to when i tried to pet brown jack and he was NOT having it#let me know what you guys think <3#rdr2#red dead redemption 2#mick squeaks#mick rants#arthur morgan#charles smith#dutch van der linde#taima rdr2#the count rdr2#boadicea rdr2#red dead redemption 2 spoilers
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Vessel of the Gods.
In which MC is a lovecraftian God
Old writing, takes place in the og obey me, GN reader. This was made when the I game had like 40ish lessons so keep that in mind
You aren’t fully human. You may not be human at all actually, but your disguise is good, the Gods made sure of that. Since the day of your creation, it has been your job to be a vessel, a catalyst for higher beings. The God who created you was a kind one who thought that you were meant for something greater, and took a liking to its design. You stood by their side reincarnation, after reincarnation.
You have seen horrors beyond comprehension, Gods in higher dimensions. You have experienced being many different creatures ranging from a 50 foot Lovecraftian with trillions of eyes to a simple cat that helped guide young heroes along their journeys to save the world.
It has always been your job to serve the gods and to be a vessel for their spirit, or power. You guide them, speak for them, and even hold balance across dimensions for the Gods..You have spoken to and housed many gods and deities in your body before. It’s nothing new to you. You’ve met many good gods who are all about virtue and thank you for allowing yourself to be a comprehensible vessel to communicate with others. You’ve also met loathsome gods that you regret not kicking out or even killing with their cruel, prideful ways. Some even give you blessings with immense power as thank-yous that stay even into your next reincarnation.
Reincarnation has its drawbacks, however. Sometimes your memory resets to protect you from other Gods who want to know your secrets. All you know is to do the job you are assigned. Your memory always returns to you at some point. Sometimes towards the end of your life. Sometimes immediately.
Luckily, you started your life in this dimension with your memories off the bat, and in a human body. Whilst trying to do the job you were assigned, you were summoned to the Devildom much to your surprise. Being surrounded by demons nothing new. What was new is being able to be summoned by such weak demons. Curiosity came over you and you wanted to stay to understand this world. Your God allowed you to explore and understand this realm and allowed you to do your job of communicating with The Horsemen on the side.
Whilst doing your duties in the Devildom as an exchange student you also contacted The Horsemen of this realm. Pestilence or Conquest as they’re also called came to talk to you first. They were a creature that disguised themself as a simple plague doctor. They came to you in your dreams. They talked about their life as a horseman, their duties. It was your job to appease them, but Pestilence was already appeased from you listening to their story. Nothing needed to be done.
Diavolo was getting suspicious. He felt… more than one presence whenever you were near. You just ignored him and avoided him the best you can as you continued with your job.
Death was met in the RAD Colosseum. They were a disembodied echo in the abyss of nothing. No physical form. Only a constantly transforming voice.
Lucifer always wondered why you seemed to hang out around there to take ‘phone calls’ he never heard any other voice on the phone.
Death just needed to be escorted to the Mausoleum. You did that easily. Mammon wondered why you wanted to explore the Mausoleum out of the blue.
Famine was a strange one. They disguised themself as a student, as their true gluttonous form was bigger than the devildom. She chose a feminine body to try to blend in but also stick out in the crowd of men you were always surrounded by. She invited you out on a ‘date’ to a more hidden side of town. Leviathan seemed to be jealous that you were going out to dinner with a girl. You felt bad for lying to him.
The minute you stepped into the building you were in another dimension. A huge dinner table stuffed to the brim with food. Famine was the opposite of Beel. She was always full and everyone around her lost their appetite, no matter how hungry they truly were. You both had a chat over dinner. She was kind and to the point. “I do not need anything. There is no need for me without an apocalypse,” you nodded “You only come with the aftermath of War don’t you?” “Yes… most of us do. War is the one who needs appeasing. War looms close over the Devildom. They are not even aware of it.”
That night you got the longest lecture from Asmodeus of all demons. You were gone for almost a full day. You really scared him you know? He thought your date had eaten you! You have to tell him everything. It killed you inside to feed him lies.
War was the only one that ‘possessed you’. In your head, War explained things how they were. If one mistake happens, all three realms would be involved in a devastating war. Your ‘death’ from Belphegor was bad enough, but now there is tension between Micheal and the Lords of the Devildom, along with you as well. You have pacts with all of them.
War was an odd one to house in your head. Their body was flickered between masculine and feminine, but every time you blinked you saw their true Lovecraft form.
War needed you to take them to Diavolo. War must stop this war, or this universe will fall apart.
The next day, you didn’t look like yourself at all. The aura you gave off was menacing and your eyes flickered like a fire. Lucifer knew at that moment that you weren’t you.
“I am sorry for lying to you all about what I am, but this is serious. War needs to speak with everyone.” Just like that, shadows seemed to surround you, and War began to speak. “There is a lot at stake. I need an audience with Diavolo. Now.”
In that moment, all the brothers were terrified of what you truly weren’t. You were far from human.
Lucifer
At first, he understandably very very pissed. You were lying this whole time? And not just any white lie, you made several bold-faced lies. Lucifer didn’t even want to be around you at first. It takes him a bit to understand why you lied
You were trying to protect them, and you were afraid they might hate you. You said something along those lines to him. Yes, you are technically human and you are in a weakened state since you are inside a human vessel, but still! He opened his heart to you, and you didn’t open yours.
After a while, it hits him. You’re a Lovecraft. That had feelings. Lovecraftians tend to be cruel. Lucifer remembers when you were first summoned how stiff and quiet you were. He also remembered that you seemed to hate the Devildom and not understand how things work socially. Mammon, oddly enough, still took a liking to you. You listened to him.
Lucifer thought you would make his precious little brothers sad at first. Honestly, Lucifer was going to threaten you if you tried anything. Then one day he saw you both in the RAD hall, you were smiling and trying your best to interact with Mammon, even if you didn’t really know how.
Lucifer realized that you truly did care about all of them. You weren’t a heartless liar using them, you cared so much about them that you (re)learned emotion.
Lucifer seeks you out after that. He can’t imagine how you feel. You both kinda ‘started over’ except this time, he got to know the real you. The two of you became even closer. You even show off some of the abilities you earned. (Sometimes you use some of your abilities to rejuvenate him and help him relax)
He’s proud to have such a powerful Lovecraft by his side. He supports you in your work and loves to hear all the tales you have to tell. If you ever pass, he will wait for you to return to him in your next life, no matter what form you take.
Mammon
YOU WHAT.
He’s the most hurt out of all of them. You and him were best friends before everyone else! How could you hide this from him? Were you also lying about being his friend? He forgives you pretty quickly once you explain yourself. You do care, you are his friend, that’s why you kept yourself hidden! “Imagine all the other Lovecrafts who might go after you if they knew you associated with me. I have a lot of enemies Mammon, and I would never forgive myself if they hurt you to get to me.”
Mammon fell even harder. He asks all about the Gods you met. He’s also fascinated by all the blessings, and runes on your body and always wants to show you off.
Loves all the cool abilities you have and your kindness. Don’t think for a second he doesn’t stop protecting you. Yeah, you’re strong but your human form is still weak. It’s sweet seeing how much he cares about you. He also tries to teach you more customs you aren’t used to.
Mammon has a lot of questions about your work too. Once he learns how dangerous it is, he wants you to stop. “You can die? And it’s normal to die on the job?” “Yes but it’s rare and I will always be reborn.”
Mammon knows you can’t simply quit your job and that you have to save the world and all that but he worries. He becomes more affectionate with you. Whenever you have to go out on a job, he always makes sure to spoil you a few days before you leave.
When you come back, especially if you look a bit roughed up, he’s in full nurse mode. He really does love you and always will.
Leviathan
Leviathan was both amazed and terrified when he first found out what you really were. He was quick to understand why you kept it hidden. If you were anything else he would have been ecstatic, but you were a Lovecraft, one of the most violent creatures in the universe. You’re his best friend, you weren’t going to try and hurt them… right?
Lovecrafts were known to take over dimensions and cause endless torture and agony for anyone that comes near them. How were you different? Those worries are soon pushed away when you come up and held him close, apologizing for lying but reassuring him that you did care for him. That’s his Henry…
He asks you to show off your abilities the most. “Ooh mimic that” “transform into this” “do the thing again” he’s in awe.
Honestly a bit jealous of your abilities but you’re his BEST FRIEND. Who else are best friends with an incomprehensible god-like being? He still doesn’t know how he got this lucky either.
Speak to your God and ask them to allow you to travel a few dimensions over… Leviathan is ready to propose right then and there when you bring him an interdimensional first edition copy of TSL.
Satan
He’s less terrified in the moment and more mesmerized. You? A Lovecraftian Vessel? For the elder gods?
Its a once in a lifetime opportunity to be able to able to even get a glimpse at something this ancient and powerful, let alone talk to one. You may know or may know where to find all the secrets of the universe!
The realization kicks in after you and War have a private audience together where he’s left alone. You are a Lovecraftian. Lovecraftians are terrifying things with no compassion. Despite them not having empathy they will not hesitate to take over a universe if a fellow Lovecraft is harmed just to justify their cruelty. You could have just put on an act in front of them to gain their trust and end them while they’re most vulnerable.
Satan thinks back to every kiss you shared, every smile, every laugh- was that all a lie? Satan then remembers your development since you first came here, vs now. You even helped him mend his relationship with Lucifer. Those are not the actions of an evil Lovecraft.
When you come out and War leaves you, he gets caught up on what was said. He might as well gather information before he can confront you. He asks Diavolo everything. Satan is surprised at what he learns.
You don’t want anyone to get hurt? You want to save all three realms? You asked your God to stay here because you cared about them? Satan feels relieved but still needs to confront you. Satan doesn’t dance around the subject. “How do I know I can trust you?” “Because I was created with empathy..?” You cringed at your response, but what do you say? “Hmph… I guess I’ll trust you. For now” You just hugged him close for a long time listening to his heartbeat- you will never get over your fascination with mortals.
Satan asks a lot of questions like a giddy kid. “How’s your God like?” “How were you created?” “Why were you created?” “Why do you do your job?” “Do we know of your god?” ”What are you trying to achieve?” “What’s it like to reincarnate?”
He would love to meet a god or hop dimensions with you. Thankfully, your God helped you plan such an outing.
Asmodeus
EW. EW. EW. Lovecrafts are kind of ugly? How could he fall for one- well okay you’re an exception because you’re cute. Surprisingly, he’s the most chill with it? He’s more upset that you felt like you needed to hide.
Despite rumor spreading that you may just be some world-eating scum. He can sense your emotions easily. He felt how much you care about others. How much you cared for him. You are definitely not some world-eater and even if you were he wouldn’t let go of you that easily.
You were the only one who loved him for him and not his looks, You were the only other person who he loves as much as himself. You see him as kind, sweet, passionate- all things he has never heard before. You were rare. You loved him.
Asmodeus will also try to stick up for you against his other brothers or calm them with a ‘well they haven’t hurt us, have they?’ he truly believes you are not evil. He asks you a lot of questions once you feel better from dropping the bomb on everyone.
He tries to ask you more… meaningful questions. What is your home like? Are you happy here? Are you happy doing what you do? How are you holding up? It has been a long time since someone you these kinds of things.
Asmodeus loves your abilities and all the stories and beauty hacks you picked up over the years. He hears that your God takes some time to redesign you and come up with something you would also like. Asmo keeps you in mind every time he designs something. No matter what form you take he will always be prepared to have self-care days that you both enjoy. Even after a long day of dimension-hopping, he’ll run a bath for you.
You plan on surprising him with your shapeshifting ability someday. He did say that he wanted to date himself after all...
Beelzebub
So… your kind can potentially hurt his family. He’s very conflicted. On one hand, he understands why you kept yourself hidden, on another, your lie could have gone wrong. Hells, you were possessed by war. You speak to gods! Gods that might want to hurt demons!
Beelzebub gives you the benefit of the doubt. You did warn them and try to help their realms after all. You also helped his brother and chose to forgive his twin, despite what he did. There’s no way you would hurt his family.
Beelzebub also gets super protective of you. While making your way to the castle with War possessing you, other demons figured out quickly that you weren’t human. Rumors spread quickly. Rumors of you trying to kill the prince, of you being dangerous. Some demons even wanted to see your fall. Beelzebub speaks out against the rumors and comforts you.
“It’s okay I’m quite old you get used to it…” “You shouldn’t…” Beel doesn’t treat you any differently than before. You were family then, your family now. Beel is a bit more relieved that you’re stronger than you look.
You may be his new workout partner. With your abilities, you can help him get stronger, and also help with his hunger. Sometimes when he can’t sleep, you tell him stories of your past.
Being a dimensional being, you’re able to talk to your God and even the dead if they allow it. He cried when you were able to take him to see some past memories of Lilith in a different dimension. “She never blamed you, Beel. Even now, I can feel the love she felt for you.”
Belphegor
He didn’t like humans. He hates Lovecraftians. He also hates liars. But… he likes you… This was complicated. He doesn’t know how to feel. He tried to kill you, he lied to you. Why does he not know how to feel.
“MC… how are you related to Lilith?” “...” “MC tell me!” “I…” “TELL ME!”
You told him the truth. You traveled dimension through dimension. Where did Lilith go when she died? She was kicked out of heaven, became a human, and died with no way to hell. She came to your dimension- an infinite incomprehensible universe. She was a lonely spirit traveling where she met you.
You never met anyone like her, so brave and kind. You both got along well, she helped you with jobs, told you about her family and how much she loved all of them. How she missed them. Kindness towards you was rare, and you wanted to repay it. Your God also tried to help you repay it, you were their loyal subject. All that you could do, was to also give her the ability to reincarnate. So you did. Lilith can experience all kinds of universes and paths of life. Her soul rubbed off on you, hence why you are ‘related’ to her.
Belphegor wanted to try and kill you again in that moment. He knew he couldn’t but how dare you. How dare you not tell him. How dare you get to see her again? He was so, so jealous and would have attacked you if War possessed you again and held him still. Tears ran down his face and he screamed in frustration.
It takes a while after for him to calm down. He knows he acted out but he’s still racked with guilt and grief and he took it out on you- again. All he ever seems to do is hurt you. You came to him first, “She never, ever blamed you, Belphie. She loved you all so much…” Belphie eventually accepted it and for once, it’s like a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He grabbed you and held you close to him, sobbing and apologizing over and over.
That same year as you walked the streets of Devildom along side Belphie, you felt a... Familiar energy. Belphegor looked over at you, worried something was wrong. You held out your hand to the small cat that approached you. “Welcome home, Lilith"
Diavolo
He was a bit… Terrified. At first. He is powerful, but Lovecrafts are a few dimensions above him. He has seen refugee demons from other dimensions whose worlds were corrupted and destroyed. His father warned him to not deal with Lovecrafts- they are beyond reason and not worth the headache no matter how powerful you were.
Diavolo had suspicions that you didn’t seem to act much like a human, he just assumed it was fear or shyness from being summoned. He should have put it together sooner...The strange references and ways of speaking, the strange energies within you, the ancient runes that covered his body. How foolish of him.
When we saw your hollow vessel you called a body, possessed by War itself he was put in shock from the energy you gave. “Diavolo. It has been too long. Come. Let’s talk.” The last time he has seen War is when he was a child. His father had many meetings with War during the Celestial War brewing at the time.
Diavolo sat upon his throne, Barbatos at his side protectively, and looked down at you- at War as they began to speak. “Your universe is on the brink of absolute destruction. Interdimensional corruption infests your world. It will destroy everything from the inside. Soon, war will start between all realms as the universe collapses. This Lovecraftian vessel was sent upon your realm to protect it… Please cooperate with them, lest there will be nothing left…”
Diavolo wanted to ask so much, but as soon as War came, he was gone. Your body felt limp, runes lit up and dulled as the soul of War left you. Diavolo stared down at you carefully, gold eyed staring holes into your head. Could he trust you?
“Tell me what you need,” he spoke in a dull, uncaring tone, it was simultaneously demanding and bored. You nodded, “Corruption roots its way into people first, transforming them into beasts from the inside. They get hostile and attack, spreading the disease. I tracked down the source. All I need is your permission to eliminate them.” Diavolo waved his hand dismissively. It’s surprising how cruel he can be, you don’t blame him.
Diavolo gave you permission and dismissed you to do what you must. As you left for a few days to clean up the Devildom. He had some soul searching to do for himself. He was conflicted. He was taught Lovecrafts were never to be trusted, yet here he was now letting one in the Devildom. It took him time to reflect on everything. Diavolo refused to see the world through his father’s lens. He abandoned his own people.
Diavolo goes with his heart and trusts you. Once you come back from your duty, he calls you to his office. Once you’re there he asks you to sit with him. You both speak for a long time, sharing stories from times forgotten. You both open up to each other more. Diavolo then goes silent, thinking, before he thanks you, voice wavering. You saved his people yet again. He is in your debt. The conversation for the rest of the night was nice. It was great to finally talk about your home after so many years away from it. He jokes about your Deity being the God of the Devildom.
Diavolo throws a party in your honor, being sure to show that he has united not two, not three, but four realms. Diavolo now has a Lovecraftian warrior on his side, and he also defends your honor when he hears rumors and slurs being thrown at you. His people are understandably terrified- but that doesn’t mean you should be punished for sins you haven’t committed.
Diavolo grows… softer for you. He finds your abilities amazing and loves to hear you rant about your God/Deity and your culture, your home. It’s all so fascinating to him. You kinda become a knight of the Devildom, keeping balance between dimensions. No matter what you may have to do, what you reincarnate into, or where you go, you will always have a home in the Devildom.
Barbatos
How interesting. He did not at all see this coming. Barbatos had his suspicions that there was more to you, but he never expected… this… His liege comes first, however, and Barbatos makes sure to keep a close eye on you as he gathers his thoughts. He has never felt any ill-will or bad intentions from you at any point, but it never hurt to be cautious. For some reason, he felt a little hurt when he did so.
Barbatos liked you, he fell for you. He rarely got close to anyone. It was rare for him to fall in love or even be friends with someone unless he knew them for years and here you were- able to make him melt within a year. He was fascinated with the effect you had on him- but also disgusted. Like he got… soft. It was so strange to be by his master’s side as you- no- War spoke prophecies through your body about the end of time. He felt… numb in a way. You both were so close.
Barbatos didn’t want to lose that- He already had his time-traveling abilities which he rarely used so he could actually enjoy life as it went and he was happy he didn’t use them when you were around. You genuinely surprised him and excited him. He knew you were different from other Lovecrafts- you had to be. Barbatos was greedy and was not planning to let you go so easily.
You proved him right when you did everything you could to unite the realms when you solved the brother’s family issues when you took time out of your day just to thank him. Here you were- yet again proving him right by trying to protect his home.
Barbatos never bothered or asked about the Lovecraftian side of you. It never mattered to him then, and it won’t matter now, but he does love it when you talk about the dimensions. He can even relate to it sometimes with his time travel powers. Barbatos never traits you any differently- only now he knows that you don’t need protection.
He knows how hard your job must be. Interacting with a bunch of powerful being dimensions above you. You were also a servant in a way. You both got close cause of that. It was nice complaining and letting loose in the presence of each other with no need to be professional. He has always found your abilities useful and will ask if you can help him with more strenuous tasks. “You can lift about a few hundred times your weight right? Can you help me relocate the statues in the old colosseum?”
You even one-time shapeshifted into Barbatos when he was sick. You turned off his watch and his alarm and took over his tasks for the day as Barbatos slept in. When he woke up- he panicked until he saw himself across the room. The doppelganger shifted back. “Please- rest more I’ll take over for today…” He is… In love...
It’s a secret between the two of you but sometimes you take him a few dimensions over to show him all the strange teas, ingredients, and spices the multiverse has to offer. He now has a secret garden that only a few know about, filled with all the gifts you have given him.
Barbatos knows that it will soon be time for you to leave this realm, and to be honest, he is not ready for it. Barbatos knows that your job is important and that you both will meet again. When you’re gone he spends a lot of time reminiscing in the garden and tending to the plants.
He notices that a bird has gotten in and is also tending to the plants. He can recognize your soul anywhere. So this is the form of your next life? No matter the reincarnation you always meet him in the secret garden, and he always welcomes you back into his heart.
Luke
Fear. If demons were terrifying- Lovecrafts were worse. Demons may embody sin but Lovecrafts make them. Lovecrafts are dangerous. He knows. There have been many horror stories of angels who have never returned from scouting- or warriors who go off to fight an interdimensional interloper, just to find out it’s a Lovecraft. Angels have their wings torn and their halos bent if they are lucky, but most of the time they just become a hollow shell of an angel- corrupted by the presence of such a high being. Some of them are even more incomprehensible than God himself.
You were a Lovecraft- a monster in Luke’s eyes. That broke his heart. You were a sibling to him- his best friend. And you- you are the enemy? All the times you both hung out, baked together, the time you protected him from Lucifer, ready to fight to defend him- was it all a lie to get him to trust you? He… He needs to talk to Simeon.
Simeon does not give him an answer. Simeon told him that he could tell Luke how to feel about you- it was up to him. Luke refused to believe you were evil. You couldn’t be! But he will admit. He is young. He doesn’t have experience with this kind of thing. He didn’t know much about the horsemen.
He overheard everyone talking about the Lovecraftian exchange student- even rumors that you were trying to save the realms- then more about wanting to destroy it. Luke wanted to get to the bottom of it. He didn’t care if it hurt- he wanted the truth.
Luke took up the courage to go up to you himself in your room. He held himself together until he saw you when the door opened- images of your possessed body and you in front of him- ready to die for him flashed into his head. He burst into tears and buried his face into your shirt, his hands balling into fists as he grabs your shirt.
You hugged him close to you. “It’s okay Luke, I’m here, I did swear to always look after you, right little bro?” He sobbed harder. “Y-you-you? They… They all said that you were e-evil! B-b-but I KNOW it’s not t-true, right?! I know it is not!” Luke was ugly sobbing at this point. You cradled his head in your hands and hold him.
You told him everything- from your home, your dimension, your job, your deity, your intentions, and everything he wanted to know. Luke held onto every word. “I swore to protect you- and that means your home as well.” “I knew it! You were looking after everyone!” Luke sniffles and hugs you closer. You were the best sibling anyone could ever have. He really looks up to you.
Luke doesn’t understand everything at first and he may need some explanation. Your powers fascinated him. You end up shapeshifting a lot to impress him, or telling some very weird recipes across dimensions that you both make together to see if it actually works (most of it can put Solomon’s cooking to shame. Seriously eldritch horrors need some taste buds.
Sometimes, you watch over him from above or disguise yourself as an alley cat to give him a small boost in emotion he gets from a wild cat “accidentally” guiding him to where he was supposed to go. It takes him some time to understand other gods. Is it strange he wants to meet yours?
You do take him to see your interdimensional home in the stars where your god lay. Luke was fascinated by all. The creepy but oddly cute creatures, the beautiful but also endless landscape, time didn’t feel real, and sometimes if he thought hard enough, the area around him changes.
Luke is very much conflicted with your job and reincarnations. On one hand, you don’t die, but on the other, your job is very hard. He gets kinda grumpy about it, and when it is time for you to reincarnate, it gives him a sense of happiness that no matter what form he takes, you will be there to cheer for him.
Simeon
Ah. That’s… concerning… Lovecraftians… He is not going to judge you yet. You haven’t done anything yet. It wasn’t fair to blame you for the atrocities that your kind have committed. He goes to Diavolo and Lucifer first, asking about what happened. When he realizes that you are in a way, a warlock or vessel, he needs some time to think about it.
He doesn’t believe your evil. An evil person would not have helped him nor Luke, let alone mend the brother relationship and try and protect the Devildom. You also put your life on the line to protect Luke. Even if you were evil in the past, you at least are trying to repent and get better and he would help with that.
Simeon goes to you, ignoring all the rumors and warnings spread about you. “Ah, hello there MC. How have you been holding up?” “You’re here just to see if the rumors are true, aren’t you?” Simeon frowned, “I know you aren’t anything like the rumors say you are. I came to check up on you- I can’t imagine how you feel…” You hugged Simeon, face pressed into his chest and your hands enjoying the warmth of his bare back.
Simeon does admit he wishes you were a bit more truthful, however, he doesn’t blame you after watching the fallout from the Devildom knowing. Simeon comforts you for a bit. He decided to talk to you for a bit, asking some questions to ease his curiosity. Watching your expression sadden when you mention your home, makes him realize how homesick you truly were.
Simeon asks a lot about your Deity and your abilities. He finds it all fascinating and finds himself writing a new book series based around the things you told him- he finds it inspiring and it’s a step in the direction of people accepting you.
In a way, he relates Seraphs, Archangels, and all those ranks to your job. Simeon can’t imagine the pressure you’re under and all you have seen over the years. You even tell him about your ability to host gods in your body which he would like to try out. It’s up to you to show him. You tell him stories about reincarnation, he hopes in the back of his mind that when it is time for your departure, you may become an angel in your next life with him.
Until then, he will stay by your side and support you when you come back from a rough job. Simeon heals up any wounds you may have and lets you rest. You often thank him back by helping him sneak out from the Celestial Realm to take a break in your realm where you both have no worries. He loves to see all the strange creatures and cultures in your lonely home. Maybe you may carry his soul with you when his time comes.
Solomon
He has no fear or worries upon learning of what you were. He is the opposite, in fact, Solomon knows that you won’t hurt anyone, and it isn’t his first time dealing with something like this either. You’re old and knowledgeable, you most definitely are powerful as well, a strong ally to have. Maybe he can make a pact with you?
Solomon is still concerned for you though, you are his friend after all. You do seem down from all attention on you. He knows, however, that having someone pity and coddles you must be frustrating. He instead bothers you in a very Solomon way. Solomon comes over with some… ‘food’ he made you and decides to gossip with you.
“You know, you must have knowledge and all types of stories to tell.” You both ended up dragging and gossiping about certain gods and goddesses. “Fuck Zeus bro, he couldn’t take a hit and kept trying to get inside me in more ways than one!” You both had good laughs and made a lot of old jokes only the two of you would understand.
Solomon waits for you to calm down before he asks with his smug tone “You know, I would love to make a pact with you…” “I’ll… Consider it.” He jokes about making a pact with you a lot, having a Deity Vessel under your control would be helpful, especially with your ability to communicate with gods. You also share with him bits of forgotten knowledge, lost in time. You also tell him ancient cooking techniques in hopes he gets the hint. (he doesnt)
You do end up making a pact with him at some point. Throughout the years, reincarnation, after reincarnation, he is always able to summon you to him once again and you never tire of his antics. Even if you don’t remember him at first, you always end up falling for him time and time again. You both become a bit well known among those who study magic. Stories and tales of a powerful wizard and the incomprehensible eldritch horror traveling together and saving universes and going on dates at coffee shops ran by angels are spread around. You both are legends and monsterfucker icons.
He starts to also ask for your help with things a lot more- “This Arcane book filled with ancient knowledge is written in Tounges? Can you read it?” “This spell was never recorded properly and has a lot of missing pieces, can you go over it with me, I feel like you may recognize this.”
You and Solomon also travel through dimensions together a lot. Sometimes he asks you to take him to your world or to go with you on a job when you have to deal with some gods. In a way, you both become apprentices to each other. Solomon also offers to help with your reincarnation, he has a few spells to help keep your soul in a certain domain…
Either way, he is always there for you, and when his time comes, you will be there for him, ready to guide him through your dimension.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me x reader#leviathan x reader#obey me leviathan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphegor x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me diavolo#diavolo x reader#barbatos x reader#obey me beelzebub x reader#obey me belphegor x reader#obey me barbatos x reader#obey me lucifer x reader#obey me asmodeus x reader#mammon x reader#obey me mammon x reader#obey me solomon x reader#solomon x reader#simeon x reader#obey me simeon x reader#luke x reader#obey me luke x reader
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billy hargrove x f!reader
masterlist • requests are open! • read on ao3
summary: being tommy hagan’s sister had it’s perks, but when the new kid from California catches your attention, it seems like more of a curse than a good thing
warnings: 18+ minors dni, Steve x Reader, underage drinking, partying, smut, p in v, angst, Billy is a mystery, Steve/Nancy, slow burn, forbidden romance
Being Tommy Hagan’s sister had its advantages. Your freshman year of high school, you had a guaranteed spot with the cool kids and an invite to every party. Tommy wasn’t protective by any means. You two were buddies, you and Carol were buddies and of course, you and Steve Harrington were buddies. Freshman year was a blur, until Nancy ripped Steve away from the group. Still, the three of you were determined to keep the good times rolling. Sure, you spent every single Saturday, Sunday and Monday hungover but it was worth it. You think.
Maybe you didn’t remember the parties very well but hell, you knew you’d had fun. Plus, you were lucky enough to lose your virginity to the King on your fifteenth birthday and even if he pretended you didn’t exist once he started dating Nancy, it was worth it. Okay, so you weren’t totally over Steve but you were coping just fine. Carol didn’t let you mope for long. There were too many parties to go to.
Then one day, Steve Harrington is pushed to the very back door of your mind. Perched on your brother’s car, sharing a cigarette with him and his girlfriend, a pretty blue Camaro whips through the parking lot and slides into the parking spot across from you. A small, angry redhead bolts out, slamming the door and zips up to the middle school on a skateboard. Every head in the parking lot is turned to the muscle car and the gorgeous, denim-clad, mulleted blonde motherfucker. He takes your breath away. Takes Tommy and Carol’s breath away. The guys dripping in cool. Not another person like him has stepped foot in this midwestern hell hole. The three of you can’t wait to sink your claws in him. He flicks his cigarette away, a small hint of a smirk curling his lips and your eyes follow the Marlboro as it tumbles to the ground. The fucking guy didn’t even smoke half of it. The nicotine fiend in you is tempted to snatch it up, but that’s like, super uncool.
You watch as Tina and her girls eyes linger on the stranger, practically salivating at the way his ass looks in his jeans. It must take at least ten minutes for the fucker to pull his pants up.
“Who the hell is that?” Carol wonders aloud for the group.
“One bitchin’ dude,” Tommy scoffs, an impressed tilt to his voice.
;;;
Tommy moves fast. You know this. He had an easy way about him, friendly even though he was the biggest asshole you knew. That blue Camaro is parked on the curb in front of your house. Your parents are outside, doing the yard work necessary to prepare for the cold front sweeping in. Your whole life was spent in Hawkins so you know nothing else but god, do you yearn for year long summers.
You were eager to listen to the new record you’d just bought. A quick wave to your parents and you’re opening the front door, flooded with the sound of Metallica’s The Four Horsemen. Tommy’s pulled out his only metal album to impress the new kid. The feeling in your gut isn’t new. You used to get the same excited feeling whenever Steve was over. However, this was different because Steve knew you. He watched you grow up. You’d known him since you were little. This new guy hasn’t played Barbie’s with you from the age eight to twelve.
You take a deep breath before heading towards Tommy’s room, leaning against the doorframe. Tommy’s head banging obnoxiously, Carol is checking her nails looking bored and the blonde boy is nodding his head along to the bass line. He’s got a cigarette pinched to between his fingers and as he’s bringing the filter to his lips, he sees you.
He takes a drag, smirks and says, “Hey.”
You’ve never loved your brothers ability to make friends more.
“Hi,” you try to say in the coolest way you can.
Tommy pauses his thrashing and motions to you, “Oh, Billy! This is my sister.”
“Nice to meet you, Tommy’s sister,” he drawls.
You tell him your name, awkwardly lingering in the doorway before Carol’s tugging you inside.
“Whatcha got in the bag?” Billy asks, fingers pressing to the brown paper.
You swallow, “Uh, just a record.”
“Which one?”
You pull out the cellophane wrapped vinyl, displaying the copy of Out of the Cellar by Ratt you’d just excitedly purchased with your allowance.
“Oh, fuck yeah! Atta girl,” he cheers as he snatches it out of your hand.
The praise causes a flutter downstairs. Five minutes into meeting this fucking guy and you’re already a puddle. The excitement at impressing him is unmatched.
Billy shimmies around you, places a strong hand on your hip as he passes to stop the Metallica record and replace it with your new one. You plop down on the floor next to Carol, eyes drawing back up to Billy as he turns the volume up, cigarette hanging between his lips. He bobs his head, his earring dangling against his wispy curls and you don’t like feeling this arousal while in the same room as your brother and his girlfriend.
“Did you see Steve with the princess today? Ugh, gag me with a spoon,” Carol nudges your knee while mimics gagging herself.
Billy snorts, “What’s the deal with that guy? People kept telling me I was gonna be the new King, whatever the fuck that means.”
Tommy chimes in, “He used to be the King. We were good buddies until he started sticking his dick in the priss.”
“Steve’s nice,” you shrug. Only Carol knows what happened between the two of you and you’d sworn her to secrecy, too embarrassed to let your brother know you’d fallen for his best friend. She gives you a pointed look before rolling her eyes.
“He used to be cool, now he’s nice,” Tommy deflects, wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He pulls a beer of the sixer and tosses it to you, which you fumble to catch.
You tap your nail on the tap, trying your best to rid the memories of Steve kissing you late at night from your head. You know if you glance over to Billy, they’ll dissipate but then you’ll be imagining kissing him and you don’t want that either.
“So where’d you move from?” you ask, not looking up from the beer.
Billy sits next to you with the thud, his knee knocking yours which absolutely does not shoot heat to between your legs. He lifts his can to you, indicating he’d like to cheers you. Sometimes Tommy’s friends did things like this with you and while he wasn’t protective of you, he made you promise that friends were out of the question. You could not hook up with any of them. Acquaintances were fine and while Billy was only that right now, you know Tommy wanted to be good buddies with him so you were awaiting the conversation. You were getting ahead of yourself. A cheers does not mean Billy’s attracted to you.
“California,” he replies as you clink aluminum cans. “Much better than this shithole.”
“You’re telling me,” Carol whines, “I fucking hate this place.”
Billy drops his cigarette in the empty beer can sitting in the middle of the floor, apparently the designated ashtray. He leans his head back to look at you, “What’s there to do here?”
You feel shy under his gaze, almost choking on your swig of beer once your eyes meet his. You clear your throat and swallow hard, “Uh, parties, mostly. Hang out in the woods. Go to convenience stores.”
“Ah. I expected more hick shit. Ya know, tipping cows, shooting guns, kissing cousins,” Billy chuckles, biting his lip as his eyes dart between your brother and his girlfriend.
“Carol knows about kissing cousins,” Tommy sneers, throwing his girlfriend under the bus.
“Do you have to tell everyone?” she hurls a rolled up sock at him. She turns to Billy, “He’s exaggerating. We’re not even blood related.”
Billy laughs, a cackle that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You can’t help but giggle. You’d heard the story a million times. Carol was at a family reunion and didn’t even realize the guy was a distant cousin. However, shit, it’s a family reunion. Who’s trying to get their rocks off at a family reunion?
“You guys smoke grass?” Billy changes the subject and the three of you nod in unison. “Know where I can get some?”
“Eddie “The Freak” Munson,” Tommy tells him, “I think I have some, though. Hold you over in the meantime.” He gets up and sifts through his sock drawer, returning with a tied off ziploc bag to hand to Billy.
“And now,” Billy takes it and shoves it in his pocket, “We’re best buds.”
Tommy beams at the declaration. And with those words, Billy Hargrove has just become verboten. Damn it.
Tommy tells you as much when Billy leaves, rattling off about his dad being an asshole and he’s got to get home before he does.
“I saw those eyes,” Tommy raises a scolding finger at you, “Don’t even try it. He’s too cool.”
“Aw, Tommy,” Carol pouts, “Let her have some fun.”
“No,” you raise your hands defensively, “You didn’t see any eyes. I don’t even think he’s cute.”
Tommy scoffs, “Yeah, right. Even I think the guy is hot.”
Carol raises an eyebrow, “You going queer on me, big boy?”
“Me? Queer?” Tommy laughs, “Let me show you how untrue that is.”
“Okay, ew, I’m leaving,” you push yourself off the ground and run out of the room, closing the door behind you.
;;;
“Does Tina throw bitchin’ parties?” Billy asks you, taking a drag off his cigarette before passing it.
You take it and try to ignore the tingling feeling on your lips as you take a hit. You’re leaning against the trunk of his Camaro, Carol and Tommy are nearby but too busy making out to listen to the conversation.
“I guess?” you reply, “All the parties here kind of bleed together. They’re fun and all, just… the same thing.”
Billy looks over to your brother with his tongue down Carol’s throat, “They do that all the time, huh?”
“Yeah, you’ll get used to it,” you shrug.
“What about you?” he turns slightly towards you, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
You can feel the way your cheeks redden, “I don’t know. No one’s really caught my attention, I guess.”
“Is he protective?”
You shake your head, “No, the opposite. Tommy doesn’t give a shit what I do. I just haven’t met anyone I like in that way.”
“Yeah,” Billy muses, “I know the feeling.”
That catches your attention. Every girl at Hawkin’s High is throwing themselves at him but not a single one special enough to tickle his fancy. You included.
“I’m young, anyways,” you deflect, “I have plenty of time to find the man of my dreams.”
“Oh, yeah?” Billy digs his canine into his lower lip, “What’s the motherfucker you’ve dreamed up like?”
You, you don’t say. “Oh, I don’t know!”
“You’ve thought about it. Is he nice, like King Steve?” Billy raises his eyebrows, “Is he a freak like Munson?”
No, he’s blonde with a mullet and pretty eyelashes.
“He hasn’t made himself known yet,” you urge, “Maybe he’s a millionaire, maybe he’s a rockstar.”
“You want Vince Neil?” he knocks he elbow into yours.
“I wouldn’t mind,” you shrug.
Billy cackles, “All you chicks are the same.”
You scoff, “Oh and guys aren’t? Like you’re not pining over Lita Ford.”
“Nah,” he laughs, “Not my thing.”
“What is your thing then?” you ask, eyes meeting briefly before you can’t handle the heat of them. Billy’s eyes are too pretty. The bluest you’ve ever seen.
“Someone real,” he says, sincerely and it tugs your heartstrings.
“Billy, the romantic,” you tease, shoving your hands in your pocket.
“Far from it, sweetheart,” he pats your shoulder before pushing himself off the bumper and heading into the building as the bell rings.
Sweetheart drips down your throat and curls around your heart.
;;;
It’s not much of a costume. It’s a short skirt, fishnets and a too tight top. You can say you’re Madonna but how many girls are going as Madonna. You just want to look hot. Want Billy to look at you like you’re more than Tommy’s little sister. Like you’re some video vixen and he just cannot keep his hands to himself. It’s a flourishing thought that you push deep down. Tommy can’t control you but you think of the conversation you’d hand the day before. Billy isn’t into you. He had the opportunity to say something and he didn’t. And one thing you’ve learned about boys your age is if they want it, they’ll make it known.
“Are you ready yet?” Carol’s asking as she peers into your bedroom. You scan her outfit up and down, you think maybe she’s channeling Madonna as well but you can’t pin exactly what she’s dressed as.
You wipe the corner of your mouth, fixing the smeared lipstick.
“Yeah, just about,” you mumble, reapplying your mascara.
“Billy’s meeting us there,” she sings, grinning wide at you in the mirror.
You roll your eyes, “Carol, he’s off limits and even if he wasn’t, I don’t like Billy like that.”
“Sure,” she purrs, slapping the doorframe, “Vamoose, pretty girl. I wanna get wasted.”
Tommy’s a bad driver. He was also drinking before he left so he’s even worse, by the time you get to the party you feel like you’ve already got the spins. You hold onto Carol’s wrist to ground yourself and Billy’s rushing up behind the two of you.
“Boo!” he shouts, pressing a hand to your lower back.
Carol shrieks but you’d seen him coming. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, pulling the two of you two his chest. He reeks of whiskey and Marlboro Reds. Seems like Billy had a bit of pregaming himself.
“Hi, Billy,” the two of you sing in unison.
Tommy barrels around the car, running up from behind to jump onto Billy’s back which causes all of you to tumble to the ground. Carol screams, scolding Tommy about ruining her hair but you’re distracted by the laugh erupting from Billy, his lips so close to your ear you can feel his breath fanning against it. It makes you tingle all over and you desperately want to grab him and pull him closer, want to press your lips to his in a hungry kiss. Then it’s gone, he’s up from the ground with Tommy pulling him towards the keg and Carol’s reaching her hand down to you.
You stumble along with her and when you’re reaching the keg, Billy’s pumping it and filling cups for you and Carol.
“You’ve got to beat Steve’s record, Billy! Come on,” Tommy urges his friend, hands clasped tight around his shoulders.
You stand over by Carol and Tina, watching the way the brunette fucks Billy with her eyes. A pang of jealousy surges through your stomach but you chug from the red Solo cup to drown it out. You sway along with the Motley Crüe song, unable to stop your eyes from scanning the crowd for familiar chestnut hair and brown eyes. Carol must notice because she grabs your face and turns it to look at Billy. She wants you to get over Steve just as badly as you do. You notice Billy’s costume, you think he’s going for terminator but it’s laid back. An homage rather than a costume. His abs look nice, you imagine what they must feel like. Carol’s a good friend.
They lift Billy up, he bites around the tap and makes eye contact you for a brief second before beer is flooding into your mouth. He easily beats Steve’s record. Seems like he could’ve gone longer but the second he beats it, they’re pulling him down. He spits the foam out, beer dripping down his chin to his chest and it’s… a sight. They funnel inside but you stick by Carol.
“God, he’s so yummy,” Tina gushes, turning to you and Carol.
Carol agrees excitedly, winks at you and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Tina.
“What? Did you call dibs already?”
“God, no,” you say, a little too defensively. “I just have eyes and Carol wants to live vicariously through me. It’s not happening.”
“Well, I’m definitely not holding back,” Tina quips.
You imagine the two of you as cats, tails high and backs arched, ready to pounce.
“Go for it,” you shrug, holding your beer close to your chest.
You retreat first, heading inside in search of a better time. A spiked punch is in your future. It’s only slightly dampened when you see Nancy downing cup after cup in the kitchen, Steve upset and asking her to cool it. He doesn’t even notice your presence and that’s totally fine. You’re a fly on the wall like you usually are around him. Steve reaches for her cup again and they struggle for power until the force of their hands pulls the cup back and spills the sticky red punch all over her white sweater. Everyone reacts in shock and you have to still your mouth from the smile threatening against your lips as you quickly avert your attention.
When they flutter away, you copy Nancy. Downing as many cups as you can before you start to feel numb. Seeing Steve was a shock to your system. All prior feelings rush to the forefront of your brain and you want to find him, pull him into a empty bedroom and kiss him from head to toe. It’s a shame when you see him and Nancy lock themselves away in a bathroom. You linger, clutching your drink to your chest as you watch drunk teenagers dance the night away. Nancy doesn’t deserve Steve. He shouldn’t have to change to be with her. You liked Steve the way he was.
Steve opens the door and slams it behind him, he pushes passed out, shoulders colliding and when he turns to look at you, you notice tears in his eyes. The brunette is quick to swivel back around, stomping outside and you wonder what in the hell just happened in there. Half of you is tempted to follow him outside, offer comfort in whatever way you can but then you feel large, strong hands wrap around your waist. You tilt your head back to see Billy standing behind you with a drunk smile plastered on his face, his eyes are tinted red like he’s been smoking more than cigarettes.
He leans down, lips close to your ear so he can whisper, “Why are you hiding from us?”
“Hiding? I’m not hiding,” you argue, lifting your cup to explain further, “Where is everyone?”
“Backyard,” he smirks, releasing his grip and stumbling towards the sliding glass door.
He turns his head briefly to make sure you’re following him.
Tina’s backyard is trashed. You can’t imagine what the cleanup is going to be like tomorrow. As soon as you step out the door, Billy grabs your hips again and urges you to the left. You look down and see what looks like five smashed beer bottles, right outside the door. You mumble a thank you before wiggling out of his grip. The last thing you need is for Tommy to see it. The blonde guides you over to the group and you collapse down next to your brother and Carol.
“Steve and Nancy just got in a fight,” you tell them before bringing your cup to your lips.
Carol raises her eyebrows and leans closer, giving you a look you know all too well. You quickly shake your head, slouching your shoulders and trying to sink away from her gaze. Tommy lets out a cackle, leaning his body back with it.
“We heard, he threw punch on her?”
“Well, no, he didn’t throw it on her, it just spilled,” you explain, watching in your peripheral how Tina leans her body against Billy’s and whispers in his ear. Immediately, your stomach turns but you ignore it. There’s no way you could be jealous, you don’t even know the guy yet and you’re going to make sure you don’t stew on how attractive he is. You know how mad Tommy will be and besides, your brother isn’t exactly loyal to you. You imagine if you did make a move on Billy and he rejected you, Tommy wouldn’t stop hanging out with him. Or god forbid, he doesn’t reject you but instead breaks your heart and Tommy would still pick Billy’s side. You know this about your brother.
“But they went into the bathroom and I guess argued, because Steve came storming out and he looked like he was crying,” you continue, picking at a loose thread on your skirt.
Tommy snorts, “I knew they wouldn’t last long.”
Carol nods along with him, “She’s too prissy for Steve. I bet the argument was something stupid too.”
“Maybe,” you shrug, allowing yourself to turn slightly and just in time to catch Tina shoving her tongue down Billy’s throat. You’re quick to turn back to your brother and Carol.
“You guys wanna leave soon?” Carol asks, you know she’s trying to be casual but only asking to save you the displeasure of watching Billy and Tina make out for the rest of the night.
“Yeah, I’m pretty over it,” you admit, stretching your arms up.
Tommy scoffs, “You guys are so boring. It’s still early.”
It is, you don’t even feel drunk yet but you are bored and too many unpleasant feelings are swirling around you. If you get any more alcohol in you, you’re libel to throw yourself at Steve, or worse, Billy.
“This party kind of blows, though,” Carol argues and wraps her arms around Tommy, whispering something in his ear. Whatever she said has him grinning and jumping to his feet. You’d rather not know.
;;;
You’re sitting in study hall, trying to stay awake when a note lands on your desk. You turn and see Steve failing at trying to look innocent, he fake coughs in his hand while stretching his opposite arm up and then back down. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quickly looks away, a hint of smile on his lips. You unfold the note and see Steve’s messy handwriting scrawled lopsided on the top of the page.
Wanna listen to my Abba record?
You stare at it a little dumbfounded, because it was an inside joke between the two of you. It was his lame way of trying to get you alone at one of his parties. It was only the second time you guys had ever messed around and as your relationship continued, it became something Steve would say just to make you blush or laugh. Worse, though, it turned into a code for sneaking away to hook up. His fight with Nancy must’ve been more serious than you thought. This was Steve’s olive branch, and it was sleazy but it was also romantic, unfortunately.
You write back in neat, straight handwriting, Right here in study hall?
You carefully slide the paper onto his desk and turn back to your textbook. From the corner of your eye, you see Steve grinning wide as he reads what you’ve wrote before furiously writing and handing it back.
Is that a yes?
It’s a maybe. I don’t think Mr. Delfin would appreciate it.
Fair enough. The albums at my house anyway. After school then?
You chew on your bottom lip. It would be very easy to fall back into this but you have plans with your brother, Carol and Billy. However, the prospect of being alone with Steve seems way more appealing. And you can’t help yourself, you think about Steve more than you think about anything else. You absolutely miss touching him and you’ve been rather frustrated since he started going out with Nancy.
Meet me in the library after school.
;;;
You made some dumb excuse to Carol about having to work on a class project in the library. She bought it but tried to insist on you ditching it entirely to get to know Billy better. Which you knew Carol was aware you wouldn’t go for.
When Steve walks up to you, you’re standing at the window. He leans against the wall and looks at you quizzically.
“Whatcha doing?”
You watch as Tommy and Carol pile into his car and drive off, the blue Camaro following after them and you say to Steve, “Just making sure it’s… safe. Okay, let’s go.”
Steve let’s out a scoff, “Don’t want them to see you with me?”
You crane your head sideways as you look up at him, “I’m ditching them for you. They’d be mad.”
Steve nods his head, pursing his lips like he can taste your words. You keep your hands to yourself on the walk to his BMW, you’d learned to do as much when you guys were fooling around. Steve talks a lot on the drive to Loch Nora. None of it really makes much sense, or is important but you like listening to his voice. It’s adorable, he stutters every so often and rambles on, losing his thought and then rushing into a completely new thought. The reason you like it so much is you’ve seen Steve hit on girls throughout the years and weirdly enough, this is how he does it so you feel special when it’s directed at you.
His house is empty, it usually is but what always shocked you was how clean it was. A teenage boy lived there alone for eight months of the year, you expected it to be messy but then again, you’re sure they have a cleaning lady coming often. Steve leads you up the stairs and to his bedroom. It smells clean, like laundry detergent and his cologne. Your stomach is doing flips at the familiarity of it all, you’ve been in this exact position many times before and you’re anticipating his next moves. As you sit on his bed, Steve wraps his hand around your hip and lays you on your back. You shyly smile up at him, the weight of his body makes you tingle all over and his big, brown eyes look into yours. There hasn’t been a night in months that you haven’t pictured this exact moment happening, ushering you to sleep and hopefully dream of Steve.
He pushes tucks your hair behind your ear as he cracks a smile, teeth bright and white while his cheeks flush just a smidge. You want to tell him how much you’ve missed him but him and Nancy have only been broken up a couple of days, you know what this is. That’s your downfall, though, you’ll bend over backwards to have Steve. When his lips caress yours, a small moan rises up your throat involuntarily. It’s a soft, sweet kiss and he gently holds your cheek as he does it. Your fingers snake into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer so you can deepen the kiss. Steve takes things slow, he always did and you’ve always been bursting at the seams, eager for more. You drag your tongue against his lower lip, begging for entrance and he allows you easily. Your body lights up, feels like you’re on fire when he grinds just barely on top of you. His thigh between your legs presses against your center and it makes your head feel heavy, falling apart beneath him. Steve’s like a drug and you’ve been sober for far too long. Your desperation makes you feel antsy, you want things to progress much faster than they are but Steve is stubborn, he sets the pace. He’s different than any other man you’ve been with, he’ll kiss you until your jaw hurts and you’re trembling. That seems to be his intent now because when you try to pull away from it, he grabs your jaw and kisses you harder. You whimper against his lips, wriggling your hips to demonstrate how badly you need him.
Steve pulls back and smiles down at you, stroking his thumb along the apple of your cheek, “You’re so beautiful.”
You flush, grinning from ear to ear as you avert your eyes, unable to hold eye contact. With a giggle you tell him, “So are you.”
He lets out a small, breathless laugh, “Thank you.”
Steve places kisses along your jaw and down your neck, he licks against your skin but he’s always been careful not to leave any marks. Back when you two were fooling around regularly, you weren’t so careful with him and you’d litter his neck and chest with love bites. Steve could always explain them away much easier than you could.
He continues kissing against your collarbone as he starts unbuttoning your shirt. You inhale sharply, goosebumps rising all over your skin when his fingers brush against your now exposed stomach. Steve’s lips descend once he gets your blouse completely undone, brushing them against the curve of your breast. This is the area he doesn’t hold back, sucking and biting gently at the tender skin until it’s raw and sore. You know you’ll have a bruise there by the end of the night but you don’t mind. It’ll be proof this isn’t a dream. In sync, you prop up on your elbows as Steve leans back and reaches around to unclasp your bra. You dispose of the blouse and bra before reaching for the hem of Steve’s polo and pull it over his head. You smooth your hands over his head before he leans down and licks at your perked nipple, his Bambi eyes looking up at you curiously. You whine, arching into the touch as your eyes flutter shut. For a moment, you picture blonde curls and blue eyes but quickly push the thought away as shame begins spreading through your stomach. You try not to think about it too much, not willing to admit even to yourself that you want Billy in that way.
“Steve,” you pant out, for good measure.
He sucks your nipple between his lips as he hand moves to squeeze and knead at your other breast. Another moan falls out of your lips as you squeeze your eyes shut and knit your fingers into his hair. He grazes his fingertips across your neglected nipple and laps against the other. It’s intoxicating, you focus on his soft his hair feels between your fingers. Your thighs tingle as heat surges through your stomach and straight to your core. It’s quiet in the house, in the room, the only sound is Steve’s mouth on your and your paired labored breathing.
When he moves back up to crash his lips into yours and press his body close, you feel his cock hard in his jeans against your navel. He grunts softly against your lips moving both his hands to grip your jaw as he licks into your mouth eagerly. This is unlike Steve, he usually doesn’t express desperation until he’s already inside of you. It gets your hopes up, like maybe he’s been missing you just as badly as you’ve been missing him. And maybe that’s wishful thinking but in this moment, you’ll take it. You grab onto his waist and writhe up against him, letting him know you’re just as needy.
Steve pulls back from the sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips as his hands lower and he’s making quick work getting your jeans and panties down to your ankles. They hang awkwardly there, your tennis shoes are still on but you're really liking the frenzy of it all. Steve props himself on his knees and does the same with his jeans and briefs, pushing them down to his knees as his long cock springs out and slaps against his stomach. God, you’ve missed the sight of it, your mouth waters as you breathe heavy. Memories of the way it felt in your mouth flood your mind, causing your hips to jerk up in arousal and Steve smiles down at you, clearing taking the movement as a compliment. He circles his hand around himself, pumping a few times before dragging his head through your folds.
“Steve…” you moan out slowly, another surge of wetness flowing out of you.
“Yeah?” he breathes out, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes look glassy. It’s such a pretty view, you wiggle against him.
“Need you,” you admit, shyly.
He licks against his bottom lip before rubbing his tip against your fluttering hole, “You been with anyone else since me?”
You shake your head, knowing the reason behind his question, “I’m clean.”
Steve nods, his hair bouncing with the movement before he sinks his cock inside of you. You gasp out, grabbing onto his bedspread while you melt at the sensation. It’s been way too long. You’re tight, haven’t had anything stretch you out since the last time you had Steve like this. He grunts softly, eyes squeezing shut as he slowly sheathes himself completely inside you.
“Oh,” you moan out, feeling him fill you out in the most delicious way. You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to watch the way Steve’s face contorts in pleasure as he stills his movements. He grazes his fingers up your sides as he lowers himself, his chest flush against yours while his lips find yours again. The kiss is languid, matching the stroke of him between your legs. It’s sensual which is typical from Steve but a stark contrast to the short foreplay. It takes your breath away, regardless. He pulls back an inch, panting against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper, running his hand down to hold onto your hip.
You try to spread your legs further, but the clothing around your ankles makes it difficult. Your hands scratch down his back and you arch your back, moving your hips to chase your high. Steve grunts out and then bites his bottom lip hard, moving his hips faster and more wildly than before. It’s exactly what you need as the pressure building inside you is pulled taut, you’re so close you can almost see it.
“Fuck me, Steve,” you whine out and he makes a pretty, needy sound that has you reeling. It was the type of sound that was the reason you’d always loved going down on Steve.
He rocks his hips into you harder and faster, pulling out little breathy moans from you as you cling onto his back.
“You like that?” he pants out, his hair bouncing with every thrust and you nod up at him, eyebrows furrowing as your orgasm looms closer and closer.
You press your palm against his cheek and he kisses you deeply, smoothing his hands up and down your sides as he moves against you. The kiss pushes you over the edge, a sharp cry flooding out of you as you climax around him, your walls fluttering around his dick and Steve starts making the familiar sounds, desperate and whiny little noises. He pulls out of you quickly, spilling his load over your stomach with a strangled groan. You hum happily, eyes dancing across his gorgeous face. He stuffs himself back in his pants and walks over to his hamper, grabbing a shirt and walking back over to wipe his mess from your navel. He pants as he does it and when he moves away again to dispose of the shirt, you pull your clothes back on.
“You want me to just drop you at home or back at school?” he asks, his eyes everyone but on you.
“Home is fine,” you say, trying to hide the way your heart is splitting yet again from Steve Harrington.
The car ride there is awkward and when you’re a block away, you notice Tommy and Billy’s cars parked on the street.
“Just drop me here,” you say softly and Steve pulls over. As you get out, he leans over and grabs your wrist. You kneel down and lean back in the car. He kisses you gently and then smiles awkwardly at you.
“I’ll see you later,” you say before shutting the door and slinging your backpack over your shoulder.
You walk up to the front door, noticing as Steve makes a u-turn and heads back in the direction of Loch Nora. Tears are threatening to break free but you will them back down, stepping inside the house and waving at Tommy, Billy and Carol as they’re lounged on the couch, watching music videos. You close yourself in the bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hair down and fixing your makeup. Once you feel you’ve calmed down enough, you make your way back out to the living room and very nicely ask Billy if you could bum a smoke.
“I’ll join ya,” he says, standing from the couch.
Tommy moves to follow but Carol grabs his wrist and pulls him back down, leaning close to whisper something and he looks like he’s about to protest until she starts kissing his neck. You make a face and lead Billy out the back door. You sit down on the plastic furniture and graciously accept the cigarette he hands over. Billy pulls out his zippo and lights it for you. Seeing him, unfortunately, eases the way your heart aches. Deep down, you know Billy would do the same thing Steve just did to you but you try not to focus on that. You feel ridiculous that you thought things might be different this time. It’s obvious that you’ve always been an easy lay to Steve and it hurts that you’re still that.
“How was the library?” he asks as he lights his own cigarette.
You shrug, “Really exciting at first, until it sucked.”
“So what’s his name?” Billy asks, smirking up at you as he exhales the thick smoke.
You blush, dropping your head before replying, “That obvious, is it?”
Billy lets out a big, belly laugh. It’s a nice sound, you want to make him laugh over and over.
“I can always tell when a woman’s had an orgasm,” he quips, sliding his tongue out almost obscenely along his lower lip. It’s insane how quickly he’s making you feel better, no matter how blunt he is.
“Yeah, well, his name isn’t important because the whole thing,” you gesture your hands in big circles, “wasn’t important to him.”
Billy inhales sharply, gritting his teeth, “Well… speaking from experience… ‘cause I am one so.. yeah, all guys want the same thing.”
You curl your lips down in a frown as you chew over his words, deciding you’re not much better than Steve because you went along with it for the same reasons. You wanted to fuck him and shit, you got that.
“Sometimes,” you giggle softly, bringing the cigarette up to your lips, “Girls are after the same thing.”
The blonde laughs again and you wanna breathe it in, wanna taste his laughs and his lips and his whole body. He’s different than Steve, physically rougher around the edges which makes him that much more interesting. Exotic maybe. His hair doesn’t look nearly as soft as Steve’s, not nearly as cared for. You’d seen the Farrah Fawcett spray in Steve’s bathroom and you can guarantee Billy doesn’t use the same thing.
“I’ve seen my fair share of that,” he agrees, “but I think a big difference is once guys have it once, they don’t want it again but girls do.”
“Or they want it again when it’s easy,” you point out, reaching over to snatch the beer from his hand and taking a big gulp from it.
“Beware of those assholes,” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking at you seriously.
You groan softly, “I was trying to stay away from him.”
“Who is it?” Billy asks, curiously. “I won’t tell.”
“But you so will,” you gush, bringing your hand to your face, “It’s premium gossip.”
“You think I’m that type?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow up.
You turn to him, “This is juicy. It’s be hard not to tell people.”
“What? Harrington?”
Willing your face to remain still, “No.”
Billy scoffs, “King Steve. No way. That is something.”
“It’s not Steve,” you seethe, though you know your face is giving it away.
He chuckles softly and grabs the beer back, “Your secret is safe with me but uh… you could do better.”
Billy gets up from the chair, tossing his cigarette before walking back inside.
#billy hargrove x female reader#billy hargrove x you#billy hargrove x y/n#billy hargrove angst#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove fanfiction#billy x steve x reader#billy hargrove#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove fic#billy hargrove x f!reader#billy hargrove x hagan!reader#simmer down
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Not your time - A Darksiders oneshot.
Hey everyone!
A commission from the lovely and generous @humboltsquid, who requested a female Reader who barely survives an assassination attempt that's carried out in front of the Horsemen.
CW: Blood, guns, assassination attempt, mild descriptions of bullet wounds, aftermath, protective Horsemen, whump, angst, fluff, Death centric.
----------
A sudden flash of dazzling light bursts in front of your face, and try as you might to keep your eyes open, you just know that come Monday, there’ll be an unseemly photograph of you squinting out of the front page of a local newspaper.
“Perfect!” the photographer grins without casting so much as a glance down at the screen of her camera.
Blinking rapidly to disperse the shadow floating in front of your eyes, you take another look out at the crowd gathered on the square below the steps of Haven City Hall.
Most, if not all of their attention is rigidly devoted to you as multiple pens sit poised over tattered notebooks, though there are some people who throw envious glares at the photographer as she retreats back into their ranks.
You have to admit, you find yourself wondering where she managed to scrouge up a working camera.
It’s hardly been a few months since Humanity pulled itself out of the rubble of an unrecognisable Earth.
Word of the Apocalypse, its aftermath and the reasons behind it spread like wildfire – words that originated from your mouth, at the behest of the Four Horsemen, all of whom agreed that you’d make a fine ambassador for your species.
Death made it apparent that he and his siblings thought very highly of you after your involvement in clearing War’s name and surviving trials no human ever had before.
You’re starting to wish they thought a little less of you now, though. This is the seventh ‘press conference’ you’ve been subjected to in the past month. That’s without all the one-to-one interviews you’d been forced into with world leaders, heads of national security, historians, religious leaders, scientist… The list goes on.
Today is just more of the same; a whole lot of reporters clamouring to quote you for their articles in cobbled-together newspapers that have finally begun to crop up around the globe.
At a glance, it would almost appear that you're standing on the steps alone. But upon further inspection, it isn't difficult to spot four, hulking figures eyeing the proceedings from the shadows.
The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, Fury, Strife and War. Your guardians. And quite possibly the best friends you've ever had, no matter their quirks and social ineptness.
They've grown tired of the constant questions from your fellow humans, even Strife, and no doubt the only reason they're here at all today is to watch your back, despite how often you try to tell them that they don't have to worry about you.
You might as well be throwing words at a brick wall and expecting it to break.
In the corner of your eye, there’s another flash, and a split second where your heart starts to sink at the prospect of yet another photograph circling the papers. However, in less than a blink, something smacks into your abdomen with a dull, wet ‘thwack,’ forcing you to stumble onto your backfoot.
Startled, you drop your mouth open and look out at the crowd, dimly wondering why one of them had thrown something at you…
A rock, perhaps?
Strange…
You nearly jump out of your skin when there’s an explosion of motion all around you.
From one moment to the next, War hauls his immense bulk in front of you, dousing you in his shadow as he rips Chaoseater from its scabbard and swings the terrible sword out in front of him, shoulders bristling with a rage you can’t yet place.
At almost the exact same time, Strife appears as if from nowhere to your right, roaring like a wild beast and, to your horror, whipping Mercy and Redemption out of their holsters and pointing them out at the anxious crowd.
A woman screams, loud and shrill enough to hurt your ears, sending blood coursing through them until you’re left grimacing at the sound, only dimly aware of the tiny burn blossoming to life in your abdomen, just beneath your left breast.
No sooner have the brothers locked their legs rigidly into place than someone fills the space behind you– Fury, if the warm body pressing a little too firmly into your back is any indication.
“Strife! The rooftops!” she shouts urgently, and you can’t help but grimace again as her voice thrums through your head like a claxon.
Bewildered. you twist yourself sideways, meeting the stare of the last Horseman, Death. He was the furthest away when the rock hit you, though now he seems to warp through the air towards you with the grace and swiftness of a shadow moving across the square, and all the ferocity of a bull charging down its quarry.
Your mouth hangs open, lips twitching as the burn in your chest grows as if an insect has lodged its stinger inside your skin, and you’re about to ask what in the world they think they’re doing when you pull in a breath.
All at once, your chest hitches painfully, and you hurry to throw a hand over your mouth to catch the hacking cough that takes you by surprise. You pull a face at the sensation of thick saliva spattering against your palm.
It had been a sunny day not moments ago, but as Death approaches from your left, the temperature around you plummets by a staggering degree, as if you’ve been cast into the eye of a polar storm. Growing increasingly alarmed by the second, you pull in a smaller breath, one that rattles and wheezes in its way in, but doesn’t quite manage to fill your lungs as you move your hand away to call Death’s name.
The last thing you expect to see when you briefly glance down is the splatter of rich, glistening blood freckling the previously unblemished skin of your palm.
It’s only then that the thought occurs to you; it may not have been a rock at all…
“Death?” you whimper shakily, lowering your trembling hand and touching your fingertips gingerly to the spot on your torso that’s beginning to feel even worse, as though instead of an insect, a lit cigarette has been jammed against your skin with no signs of cooling.
You’d flinch away from the sensation were you not being tightly boxed in on every side by four, bridling forces of nature.
The eldest of them, Death, is upon you in an instant, dragging the shadows of buildings along in his wake as if, for just a moment, the darkness itself is beholden to none but him.
There’s a fire raging in the Horseman’s wide and simmering eyes that contradicts the icy hands that reach out to catch you by your shoulders when you take a faltering step towards him, only to crumple as the numbness in your legs makes itself apparent.
A familiar chill pours down your spine. One you’re all-too familiar with.
They promised you had nothing to be afraid of, not while you have Four of them in your corner.
But you can’t help it.
Right now, as War bellows a thunderous battle-cry out at some unknown recipient, and the breaths start to leave you in great clouds of billowing, white air, you’re scared.
---
‘No, no, no, NO! NO!’
Death’s ever-churning mind howls with outrage and disbelief, even if his lips remain tightly sealed beneath his bone-mask as he holds you upright by your shoulders, suspending you an inch above the ground in his haste to scan you for injury.
He’s mutely aware that the crowd of humans have already begun to scatter, though whether they’ve been driven away by the Horsemen’s sudden act of aggression or the culprit who has just made a foolish attempt on your life, Death can’t be bothered to guess.
He knows… As soon as he caught the flash from a broken window that overlooks the city hall, he knew. And he knows, for the rest of his wretched existence, that he’ll be trying to atone for standing too far away to reach you in time. For growing complacent.
They've all grown complacent, though he’ll shoulder the blame for his siblings because they – however unwittingly – follow by his example.
He thought this would be safe.
You weren’t supposed to get hurt, this was just another question-and-answer session you’ve done dozens of times before. Curious humans seeking gaps in their knowledge from you.
Who in their right mind would dare, would even have the nerve to try and hurt the human who has been so obviously afforded protection by the Four? Not even Samael, arguably their strongest adversary, would think twice before attempting to antagonise the Horsemen.
He can feel your warm breaths hitting the exposed skin of his sternum as he clings to you, rolling his eyes down until he spies the patch of crimson blooming outwards underneath your quivering hand.
The acrid stench of blood – your blood – is quick to slip between the cracks of his mask and into his unwilling nostrils.
Death’s muscles bunch at the intrusion and he clamps his gnashing teeth down on the primal growl that tries to escape through them.
He’s aware that at any moment, his siblings are going to catch the same scent on the wind, and it’ll be all he can do to stop them from levelling the entire city, just to ensure that your would-be killer doesn’t get away. Hell, it’s all he can currently do to keep his own Reaper Form from tearing itself loose and raking up the souls of any human in the vicinity.
As unhappy as his siblings already are though, they’re about to raise merry Hell when he makes his next announcement.
“She’s been shot,” he spits, pulling the metaphorical trigger on three, loaded guns.
As if from nowhere, a maelstrom whips up around Strife, who only just manages to lurch sideways far enough to spare you and his siblings from being crushed as he erupts into the titanic, armoured beast; Anarchy, shaking out his mane and tipping his horned head back to screech up at the sky.
Steeling himself against your sudden whimpers of alarm, Death barks, “Seventh story window to the North. Go!”
And without needing any further spurring on, Anarchy launches himself into a gallop across the street, leaping up to latch his monstrous claws into the wall of the building and hauling himself straight up the side of it, hand over hand.
War and Fury don’t look as though they’ll be far behind their brother, but Death’s voice is enough to still them before they too can unleash their true forms and give chase.
“Fury.”
Snarling, his sister whips around towards him, her expression faltering when she sees how carefully he slides his arms beneath your knees and hoists you off your feet, cradling you against his unforgiving chest.
“Rampage is the fastest of our horses,” he continues, “Find Azrael, meet us at Y/n’s home.”
She looks as though she’s about to argue, far more interested in joining Strife to enact some well-deserved vengeance in your honour, but another glance at you reminds her that this isn’t the time for personal vendettas.
Fiery hair bobs as she gives a resolute nod, then turns on her heel and raises a fist in the air. “Rampage! To me!”
Death’s attention flits back to you, secure in the knowledge that at least two of his siblings have been distracted from going on the warpath.
Speaking of…
“Brother… Is she...?” War’s voice has dipped and bowed with rage, lending him the cadence of a beast.
Before he can say another word, Death speaks, his magics flaring about him like coiling snakes, though is tone is deceptively calm. “War, I need you to guard us as we ride.”
Without another word, the Horsemen summon their steeds, and Death is forced to relinquish you to War for a second whilst he hauls himself into Despair’s saddle, immediately reaching to take you again when his brother gently lifts you towards him. You scream as he does, trying to curl in on yourself until you’re deposited in the saddle between Death’s sturdy thighs.
Then, in a moment so rare, not even his siblings can remember the last time they saw it, Death slips his hand underneath yours, trying not to let his stomach squeeze at the feeling of your fingers latching onto his. He meets your eyes, loathing the wide, terrible pain that’s been placed inside them.
Pain has no place in your life, not so long as they’re here to protect you from it.
“Not yet,” he breathes, damn-near begs, spurring Despair into a thunderous gallop with Ruin snorting wildly at his heels.
----------
It’s the agony that wakes you in the end, a raging hellfire that ignites in your chest as you startle to consciousness, never recalling how you’d come to be unconscious in the first place.
As if the unexpected pain weren’t bad enough, your heartbeat thuds strongly in your ears, which are ringing with the shouts of several, booming voices, all far too close and spilling over one another in a furious rush, leaving you feeling as though you’ve been placed inside an amphitheatre.
“- the Hell wasn’t someone watching the buildings!?” Fury’s voice, easily distinguishable from her brothers’ and absolutely drenched in her namesake.
Gritting your teeth, you screw your face up when Strife almost roars back, “Keep lookin’ at me when you say that, and I might start thinkin’ you’re blaming me for this!”
“Perhaps I am! You’re the firearms expert, as you so often like to remind us!”
“Why the Hell should that mean-!?” He cuts himself off midsentence, granting you a second of relief before he promptly redirects his attention to one of his other siblings. “WAR! If you don’t stop pacing, you’re going out the goddamn window!”
Ah, you wince, so that wasn’t your heart beating in your ears.
War’s thundering footfalls come to an abrupt halt somewhere to your right, and he promptly responds to his brother’s threat with a rumbling growl, the kind that emanates straight from his chest and spills across the room like a roll of thunder.
They’re fighting about something…. Which isn’t unusual. But lately, they’ve been getting better at not doing it around you.
God your chest hurts. What the Hell happened?
“Mmgh, ugh…” You feel like you need a crowbar to pry your eyelids apart, but at least the pitiful sound you made is enough to stop their incessant bickering.
A new problem arises though, when they instantly start to exclaim anew.
“She’s awake!” Strife gushes.
“I can see that for myself,” Fury sighs, though not without a hint of relieved laughter.
War’s relief is quieter, but no less palpable.
Through the gaps in your eyelids, you spot a flash of red surging towards you as you try to heave yourself upright, but not a moment later, a strong, uncompromising gauntlet engulfs your shoulder, pushing you down to lay flat on your back.
“Stay there,” War’s baritone thrums, as gentle as you’ve ever heard it, “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Tears of pain are already trailing down your cheeks, but you suppose he means you’ll make it worse. Blinking to clear your vision, you peer up at the three, titanic figures looming over your head.
Strife’s eyes are the first you meet, glowing like raw gold from beneath his silver helm. They pinch at the corners, a telltale sign that he’s smiling under there. “H-hey, gorgeous,” he swallows thickly as if he’s about to choke, “Glad to see you’re awake again… Scared the Hell out of us back there, you know.”
You know it must have been bad if he’s admitting to fear.
“How’re you feeling.”
Before you can open your mouth to tell him that it feels as if your chest is being split in two, Fury scoffs, turning to shoot Strife a scathing look.
“She was shot, you fool. How do you think she’s feeling?”
“Sh-shot?” you croak, once more attempting to sit up, but with War’s gauntlet pinning you in place, you only succeed in squirming weakly on the-… Are you on your bed?
Your breath starts picking up, throat bone-dry as more tears spill down your cheeks. “I was shot?”
To her credit, Fury swiftly clamps her jaw shut, biting her lip and looking at least a little ashamed for blurting that out. War emits a troubled hum whilst Strife hurries to reassure you.
“Hey, hey,” he hushes, reaching out to drop his enormous hand over the top of yours, “It’s over. It’s over now. Azrael fixed you up. You’re okay.” There’s conviction in his words, but you don’t know if he’s trying to convince himself or you.
You roll your neck down slightly to look him over, and it’s only now that you see the blood smeared across his chest plate.
With a sharp gasp, your heart rate skyrockets.
War follows your wide-eyed stare and grumbles, “I told you to wash that off…”
Glancing down at himself, Strife quickly snaps his head up to offer you a shake of his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s not your blood.”
Despite his efforts, this does little to reassure you.
“It’s yours!?” you bleat.
“Nah, ain’t mine either. S’from the guy who shot you.”
Your abdomen squeezes in protest as you strain out, “Strife! You killed someone!?”
For a moment, he falls silent. All of them do, flicking pointed glances between one another as a creeping chill begins to seep inside the room, reaching your skin even under the blankets that have been tucked around your neck.
“I gave the order.”
All eyes dart to the open door of your bedroom. You can’t help the aborted breath you draw in when you see Death filling the wooden frame.
His bulging shoulders heave up and down slowly, and that dark, brooding stare is adhered to your face, causing you to squirm uncomfortably as if you mean to escape it.
“Finally decided to stop beating yourself up, have you?” Fury mutters under her breath, earning a glare from Death so frosty, you could swear you see her shiver.
“But… but I don’t understand?” you wheeze, furrowing your brow wearily and shifting to try and ease the ache in your lungs, “What do you mean you gave the order?”
“Some fool human made an attempt on your life,” War supplies, “Strife did what we all wished we could do.”
Once again, you try to sit up, and once again the weight of War’s gauntlet stops you.
Grunting, you argue, “But, you can’t… kill someone just because-!”
“-Because what?” Death snaps, stalking towards the bed an effectively silencing you in a heartbeat, “Because an overconfident zealot thought you deserved to die simply because you spoke a truth that didn’t align with his doctrines?”
He may be the shortest of the Horsemen, but that doesn’t mean that Death isn’t several feet taller than you, able to loom over your bed like a storm cloud.
“Were we to stand idly by whilst one of our own was threatened?”
You glance up at the others, taken aback by the ferocious, steadfast frowns on War and Fury’s expressions, and the familiar glint of steel in Strife’s eyes. Not one of them are contending Death’s bold declaration.
That you’re one of theirs.
It’s a hell of a claim to come from the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Ancient Nephilim of legend, laying claim to a human?
You wet your lips, but a response doesn’t come.
Death, however, seems only too ready to fill the space of your silence.
In a single, fluid motion, he lowers himself onto one knee beside your bed, and that action in itself is as poignant as his words.
Death never kneels.
The other three don’t look half as surprised as you’re sure you must, not even when their eldest, their leader, reaches out, hesitates, then rests the tips of his cold fingers gently under your jawline, directly over your pulse.
Wide-eyed, you can only stare into the sockets of his mask, breathing shallowly, missing the way his shoulders slump at the sensation of a strong, steady throb beneath his fingertips.
“You’re under our protection,” he states matter-of-factly, backed up by a concurring grunt from War on the other side of the bed, “And when the Horsemen have your back, nobody touches you. Is that understood?”
You press your lips together, both horrified and equally humbled that you could have earned the devotion of such powerful, ethereal beings.
Holding your gaze, Death firmly repeats, “Nobody.”
You still have questions. No end of them. But right now, frightened, hurt, and vulnerable, you’re wrenching heart seeks safety in one of the few places you know can offer it.
It hurts to raise your left arm, but you bite down hard on your tongue and slip your hand around what you can of Death’s solid neck.
The first sob escapes you when he leans towards you, pretending to be guided by your pitiable strength until you can wrap more of your arm around the back of his shoulders and push your damp face into the column of his throat, shivering slightly from the chill on his skin.
“I’m sorry,” you whimper against him, feeling his muscles turn lax underneath your touch.
In response, the Horseman nudges his mask closer to your ear and in a whisper that’s meant for you alone, he utters, “You’re not the one with anything to be sorry for…”
Unseen by you, the ancient Nephilim’s eyes glare holes through each of his siblings, daring one of them to comment on his moment of rare, uncharacteristic indulgence.
Per the norm, Strife is the one who struggles to keep his mouth shut.
“Aw, how come Death gets a hug?” Strife whinges petulantly, “He doesn’t even like ‘em.”
“And you believed him when he told you that?” Fury snickers.
On the bed, your grip just tightens around your guardian’s neck as his protective hand lays gingerly against your back, cold fingertips drinking up the warmth of your human body with a reverence known only to Death.
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The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens
Just like so many other Good Omens red herrings, hints and *Aziraphale voice* clues, the question of 'What the fuck ist the deal with Aziraphale's flaming sword' has been absolutely tormenting my mind ever since S1 dropped all those years ago.
And while many of my other questions about S2 (like 'What the fuck is the deal with the Eccles cakes' or 'Who the fuck made the Gabriel statue') remain unanswered and could, possibly, just not matter at all and I should just get the fuck over them– the unsolved case of Aziraphale's flaming sword in S1 has always seemed like a weirdly important blind spot to me.
So, in an attempt to finally solve this knot in my brain, I made a timeline for the bloody Flaming Sword because what else would I spend my Friday evening on. Here goes nothing, I thought:
Aziraphale gets issued the sword by Heaven to guard the Garden of Eden in 4004 BC, and gives it away to the humans.
God asks him about it right after they humans have left Eden, Aziraphale lies to her and before even finishing speaking, God just loggs off and doesn't seem to care anymore.
The sword seems to be lost for the next 6000 years to follow and, once again, no one really cares.
The first time we see it again is when the International Express Man delivers it to War in the present day.
The next time we see it after that, is when Pepper effectively kicks war in the shin, makes her drop the sword and proceeds to anihilate her with it.
Brian and Wensleydale do the same to Famine and Pollution.
Aziraphale then wields the sword once more, despite never having to really use it (but hey, it looks capital-B Badass).
Lastly, our Holy Delivery Guy then picks up the sword together with the other (now deceased?) Horsmen's artefacts and they once again vanish.
Needless to say, I found myself nothing the wiser after making this timeline. It seemed completely useless. I still had no idea why the sword even existed and why they kept making such a big fucking fuss about it all throughout Season 1. So, I decided to make another list, this time with all the random ass questions I had about this random ass sword:
Why was it issued to Aziraphale in the first place?
Since when does an angel need a random flaming weapon to protect two (2) humans that are already being guarded by a hundred-meter-high wall, when he could very well just miracle away any and every threat to both himself and them?
Was he given the sword to defend himself against demons?
If so, why would they give him a burning blade instead of, for example, a Supersoaker full of Holy Water? (Sure, I'm fairly certain Supersoakers hadn't been invented yet, but you catch my drift)
Is the sword actually burning with hellfire?
If so, it would a) still be a pretty useless weapon against demons, but also b) possibly explain why Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale were able to kill or at least temporarily get rid of three of the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (who, be they whatever they actually are, surely count as some sort of immortal entities just like angels and demons do)
Did the sword actually kill War, Pollution and Famine?
After all, the World as we knew it did get reinstated by Adam again once they managed to stop Armageddon. Does that mean that the three Horsemen were revived again too? Unless Season 2 takes place in a war-less, pollution-less and famine-less world, they must have somehow made their return (or never really died in the first place)
Where. The Fuck. Is. The Sword. Now?
And why does it bother me so much???????
Alas, just like so many other questions, these too seemed to remain unsolved. And since the fucking sword didn't make a comeback in S2, I guessed that it probably just wasn't more than ... well, a randomly flaming, randomly misplaced, randomly unexplained Flaming Sword.
Nothing more than a plot device.
Hmm, right. A ... plot device.
Hang on. (And that's when it finally hit me.)
It's a fucking plot device.
Most authors and consumers of media are familiar with the use of plot devices in story telling. However, I personally had only every seen characters be used as such, to merely bring an important point across or further underline or advance a story's or main character's development or plot.
It wasn't until I was about to simply give up because I couldn't see my way out of the seemingly unlimited sword-related questions anymore, that I realized: There are no answers to those questions. Just like there are no deeper meanings to any other plot devices. Their sole purpose it so shine some light onto another, more important thing, story or character.
And in this case, that character is Aziraphale. Or more so Aziraphale's choices and his relationship with and belief in God and Heaven. The Flaming Sword (or more so Aziraphale's giving-away of it) is the first way of showing us that Aziraphale:
doesn't always aka pretty much never obey God's will (even all the way back in The Beginning),
will lie to God about disobeying Her
and possibly, just like Crowley joked about, was the one who by trying to do a Good Thing, accidentally gave away something that would later somehow become a literal War weapon, lmao
It also tells us that:
God apparently doesn't always care or cast them out of Heaven when an angel actively disobeys and lies to Her.
Or, for all we know, Aziraphale giving the sword away and not admitting to it was somehow part of Her Ineffable Plan anyway.
Heaven is apparently absolutely useless at keeping track of its very few ethereal belongings.
That's what you get for outsourcing work, you capitalists.
Right at The End, the sword returns to its owner who had it right in The Beginning too: Aziraphale.
And not just that: It actually ends up saving the humans. For the second time. First all the way back in Eden, when it was just Adam and Eve. And now, 6000 years later, at what would have been the end of the World. Very poetic, *wipes away tear*
So yeah, there you go. That's the big revelation I have come to. Would I have preferred to uncover yet another sneaky Gaimanian easter egg just so I could wave it in your face like some sort of a puzzle solved at a scavenger hunt?
Sure.
But hey, sometimes flaming sword plot devices are just that. And I'll make my peace (or War?) with it.
#good omens#good omens s1#gos1#aziraphale#the flaming sword#this has been haunting me for years#because im insane in the membrane#alas i solved it#or something like that#my own meta
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it's trey's birthday!!!!! >:) to celebrate, here are a few trey thoughts and concepts.
(cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, gaslighting, mention of non-con, sk!trey, mention of love potion/drugging, brief nsfw, implied somnophilia)
✧ trey using his um to make you think you're free and can go anywhere, when in reality all this time you've been confined to a single room and every "place" you've gone to is simply the result of his unique magic altering your senses. that bakery you visited with him? that didn't really happen. the library? not real. the park? nonexistent. it's just you and trey in this single room and you've yet to figure it out. :)
✧ being trey's friend since childhood and you've always had a crush on him. the two of you have been inseparable, but when he goes off to nrc and you're left in the queendom of roses to attend school there your feelings start to dampen...and very quickly at that. the reason? trey hasn't been around to feed you the love potion he mixed into the pastries. he's been doing it since the two of you were children. it started as an accident when he unintentionally knocked it into the practice batter and you ate it and... he just likes it when you're in love with him. is that so terrible of a thing to want? :< meanwhile, you've always thought your feelings for him were true. ;;;
✧ au in which trey and rook are roommates and you're desperately trying to find a place to stay. isn't it so nice and convenient that your two friends have an extra room open for you to take? :) don't worry about paying rent with money. you can pay with other things.
✧ researcher trey x captive mer darling. maybe you're scared or anxious around humans and he's ultimately the one who befriends you. of course he does so with his own intentions in mind...
✧ trey with a darling who has a fear of men and he helps you get more comfortable around him by showing you he's safe and would never hurt you. he's just so gentle and so trustworthy and so sweet; he's so good at minding your personal space and being so patient and helpful. unfortunately, he just wants you to be more comfortable so it'll be easier to slide into your heart. and maybe he gets impatient and non-cons you instead. :( all of that trust... shattered. but now he has you all to himself and can slowly twist your perception of him in the strangest ways. he gaslights you into thinking that other men would do the same thing, but it'd be much worse and so you can really only ever trust and rely on him. see? doesn't he treat you so softly? you don't have to be scared; he helps you, saves you, protects you. he's good and others are bad.
✧ i never talk about trey's starsending robes, but omg they're so !!!!!!! stargazer trey who is there to collect your wish and you wish for a boyfriend because you thought it'd be a silly and lighthearted wish to make. trey is going to grant that wish if it's the last thing he does. >:D
✧ vampire trey.
✧ trey helping you fix your gag reflex by fucking your mouth often!!!! <3 now when you brush your tongue you won't gag anymore. :)
✧ serial killer trey and his obsession with collecting full sets of teeth from his victims. your teeth are especially fascinating to him, and thus you shall be his next victim.
✧ tooth fairy trey LOL.
✧ dentist trey......... but he's the dentist from novocaine. the sheer gaslighting in this song omg. the "you're bleeding now cuz you never floss" line.......... dentist trey is my beloved. i hope others can see this vision.
✧ OMG WAIT. dentist trey and dr. riddle... the two horsemen of the medical malpractice apocalypse. ;;;;;;;;;;; maybe they're roommates and you see the both of them for annual check-ups, so it's over for you when you wake shackled in their flat. T_T they know your medical history so well; you're in good hands.
✧ trey who takes care of you when you're sick, only to realize he quite likes it when you're so weak and feeble. he intentionally keeps you sick so you'll rely on him and if you think something's amiss he gaslights all of your worries away, minimizing them with a simple, "it must be a rough flu season..." or "don't push yourself so hard; you'll only get sicker." >:( no!!!! trey, you're the one making darling sicker!!!!!! in the same vein that trey is your greatest pathogen, he is also your greatest panacea. for only he gets to decide when you can heal and get better. :)
✧ you often party a lot with cater, so trey's seen you when you're intoxicated far too many times. he tries to be upstanding and honest on the surface, if only to look normal and reliable. but how can he resist when you're right there on his bed, passed out like a corpse?
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youtube
#Youtube#bible prophecy endtimes#end times#endtimes#jesus is coming#bibleprophecy#follow jesus#time is running out#spread the word#pestilence#birth pangs#signs of the end times#wars and rumors of wars#jesus is returning#faith in jesus#lawlessness#rapture of the church#stand fast in the faith#seven year tribulation#time to repent#give glory to god#antichrist#the four horsemen of the apocalypse#government uprising#God’s hand of protection#america divided#america desolation#end of days#repent#jesus is the way
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So, jaune magic is actually straight-up death. When the brother They're whole strict they made up the 4 horsemen. Adam got war, jaune got death, and I don't know who got pestilencing. And famine.
If jaune would ever go at full power, a Coffin would Appear above the sky releasing death to reap souls. An example of how the power system works for them. The more war that happens, the stronger adam Apostle gets, meaning He can summon more troops and stuff like that. The more you go to war with them, the worse he gets to fight. so counters to him are single strong targets Since that doesn't count as war jaune Doesn't really have a weakness also the four horsemen are The maidens from the original show they're considered myth.
Jaune: Okay... Deep breaths...
Jaune: Mmngh...
Ruby: (Waiting with bated breath)
Jaune: Ngh... Agh! Dang it...
Ruby: Aw, you were so close, too! I could feel it!
Blake: No, he wasn't.
Ruby: Well, maybe from your perspective, but from where I was watching from-
Blake: Penny, did Jaune make any progress?
Penny: Yes, he did!
Ruby: See?!
Penny: Jaune has managed to perspire more than he has in his previous attempts!
Jaune: ...At least I'm working up a sweat?
Yang: Hey, that's my line!
Ruby: Yang! Where have you been?
Yang: Oh, you know, doing dragon things.
Blake: Dragon things that you haven't told us about.
Yang: Because they're supposed to be a secret~!
Blake: If they're so secret, then why would you tell us?
Yang: Because why bother doing them if you can't tell anyone about it?
Blake: (Opens mouth)
Ruby: I wouldn't bother. Yang always wins, one way or the other. Usually by dropping the subject.
Yang: So, what's going on here?
Ruby: See? We're helping Jaune use his mana like he did before!
Jaune: If only I remembered how to do it.
Yang: How'd it happen before?
Ruby: Jaune got into a fight with Cardin.
Yang: Well, ask ol' rock face to throw down.
Blake: We can't. He's too scared of Jaune.
Yang: Yeah, sure. What's the real reason?
Ruby: It's true, though! Jaune's mana was so scary, it puts my hair on end just thinking about it!
Yang: Really? Well, maybe I should throw down with ol' Vomit Boy here?
Jaune: Come on, it was one time!
Yang: Yeah, yeah. So, you up for a spar?
Jaune: Do I get to say no?
Yang: Sure, but you probably won't be able to get your mana out until then. It's how I learned to use mine!
Jaune: ...Alright. Let's do it!
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Goodwitch: Are you sure we shouldn't intervene, Ozpin? After all, Ms. Xiao Long is set to a higher standard than Mr. Arc.
Ozpin: Yes, I'm sure, Glynda. And you'd be surprised what a little friendly competition can do for training.
Goodwitch: I hate surprises, Oz.
Ozpin: I'm well aware.
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"Set us off, Rubes!"
"You got it! Ready!" Ruby lifted her arm high into the air. "GO!"
Yang disappeared in a blink, leaving Jaune bewildered on the ground. He looked around for any sign of her, before noticing the shadow on the ground. He looked up to see her hurtling towards him like a missile. He backed away, only to get knocked into the back wall by her landing in his mid-section. She jumped back with a laugh.
"C'mon! Is that it?"
"Ouch..." Jaune groaned as he stood up. "That really hurt."
"Yeah, that's what a kick to the stomach does, Jaune!" Yang called with a snigger.
"Huh? Oh, no, I meant my back." He called back. "I didn't even feel your kick."
"What?"
-----------------------------------------------
Ozpin: Did you see it, Glynda?
Goodwitch: I did. It was faint, but there was cloud protecting his body from the kick. So, Mr. Arc is a necromancer?
Ozpin: Indeed, and very intuned as well. It normally takes decades to achieve that level of unconscious response.
Goodwitch: It could be a fluke.
Ozpin: We'll just have to see.
Goodwitch: ...
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"Alright, Jaune, if you didn't feel that kick, then how about I instead kick things up to where you will feel it?" As Yang said this, she drew mana from her scaled arms until they became golden balls of flame. Before was just a sample of the least she could do with her draconic mana, but now she was really wanting to show off. "Don't worry, I'm sure you've got another outfit you can wear!"
With a toss, a fireball launched at Jaune, making him leap to the side. Barely missing to the point where he could feel the intense heat, he watched in slow-motion as another fireball was closing in on his face. Throwing up his hands, he fell to the floor, grunting as he hit the ground.
A black cloud spread from where he landed, the thick miasma reaching across the floor until the whole floor was covered in the foreboding fog. Ruby and Blake scurried to the top of the bleacher, every fiber of their being telling them touching, or even breathing the vapor blanketing the floor could be the last thing they'd ever do. Penny didn't feel this same fear but followed the others up the bleachers as they fled. Yang jumped into the air, watching as hands rise from underneath her to grab at her. She didn't want to think what would happen if she was caught by them.
"Hey!" She called out. "Nice trick, but you're still wide open!" Yang was about to summon another fireball when she suddenly felt something grab her shoulder. Something colder than ice, so cold that it burned! She turned, finding a horrifying skeletal face gazing back at her. She wanted to scream, but felt her body lock up in fear. Was this it? Was this the end?
"ENOUGH!" Professor Goodwitch stood panting from the top of the staircase, and the black fog and the grabbing hands and the skeleton face all now fully disappeared. "I think... I think that..."
"Allow me, Professor Goodwitch."
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Ozpin: While I encourage pushing each other to our very limits, I also believe that setting boundaries is just as imperative in our mana development. Especially when canceling mana puts a strain on our dear deputy headmistress.
Goodwitch: Hah... Hah...
Ozpin: So, let's all take a break and discuss what we did right, what we did wrong, and how we can improve on ourselves. Hm... In fact, sparring matches such as these shall be postponed until you all write an essay on the subject.
Ruby: Even us?
Ozpin: I considered having only these two writing it, but I believe the bystanders are just as at fault as the participants. So yes, I will expect essays from you three as well.
Ruby: Ah, man... (Looks to Penny)
Blake: Don't even think about it.
Ruby: I wasn't!
Ozpin: Are you alright, Professor Goodwitch?
Goodwitch: ...I am now. It's been a long time since I've had to undo mana that powerful. Ozpin, you knew, didn't you? You knew that he-
Ozpin: Yes, I did. (Looks to Jaune) And that is why he is here. So that he can use it in the best way possible.
Jaune: So, uh, how'd I do, guys?
Blake: (Stepping away)
Ruby: (Hiding behind Penny)
Jaune: Guys?
Penny: They are terrified of you.
Jaune: What?! Why?! What happened?!
Penny: Your magic had nearly harmed them, as well as Yang. If Yang had not taken to the air with her draconic mana, it is very unlikely that she would have survived.
Yang: Sheesh, way to talk about a girl behind her back. (Slaps Jaune's back) And you, man! What the heck was that? Nearly had me, ya know!
Jaune: I... don't really know.
Yang: Well, whatever it was, you only scared me a little bit!
Penny: Actually, you were the most terrified of the group.
Yang: Would you get outta here!
Jaune: Ruby? Blake? Are you guys... Are you guys scared of me?
Blake: ...Fear is beneath me.
Jaune: Huh?
Yang: Always the poet, huh, Blake?
Jaune: What about you, Ruby? Are you scared?
Ruby: ...Not anymore. You did scare me, though! Something about your mana just... It doesn't feel good Jaune. Like, it feels dangerous.
Jaune: Oh...
Yang: ...But?
Ruby: But... so did Yang's mana.
Jaune: Huh?
Ruby: Yeah, like, when I was starting to use my mana, Yang's mana used to scare me so bad! Then I started to get used to it. And now my hair doesn't even stand on end anymore!
Yang: Just give it time, do some practice with it, and everything should be fine. Right, Blake?
Blake: ...We still have to write our essays.
Yang: Always gotta bring down the mood, don't you?
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Ozpin: That went quite well.
Goodwitch: Our students nearly died, Ozpin.
Ozpin: But they didn't. We got lucky, and lucky isn't always a bad thing. We caught the issue in time, so we don't have to worry about the council taking matters into their own hands.
Goodwitch: They will eventually, Ozpin. Sooner or later, they'll find out we don't just have a necromancer in attendance. We have one of the four horsemen.
#rwby#rwby au#monster school au#supernatural superschool au#jaune arc#ruby rose#yang xiao long#blake belladonna#penny polendina#ozpin#glynda goodwitch
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Chrisjen Avasarala, heroine in a duster.
In the previous post about Chrisjen's clothes, I promised to talk more about this duster. It feels like it was a well-thought-out choice. The whole outfit was.
Why a duster? It was a coat primarily worn by horsemen to protect their clothing from dust. That slit in the back is what's left from it - it was useful while horse riding. Later, it was worn by people driving cars or riding motorbikes. Then it entered the world of fashion like everything else.
When it comes to fiction, a duster coat initially was just a standard cowboy costume. Makes sense with all horse riding they do. Later, it became a statement. Heroes and antiheroes started wearing them, the characters who had something important to do, who were on a mission, who drove the story forward.
We see protagonists wearing dusters in Doctor Who, Firefly, Blade Runner, etc.
Back to Chrisjen. There was no practical reason for her to wear a coat like that to the office in season 5. It's not like she was planning to travel anywhere (I'm not opposed to the idea of her riding something. Bring it on). Chrisjen's scenes in this blue duster were a turning point for her - she lost everything, saved Earth, and started becoming the fearless and compassionate leader we see in later episodes. Let's not forget that the whole outfit is blue - an Earther on a mission. Her leather duster is finished with embossed details. Fancy!
Underneath, she's wearing leather pants and a gold on blue swirl leaf patterned waistcoat. This is also the beginning of her g̶a̶y̶ dandy phase I mentioned in the previous post. She's even wearing a chain. Accessories like this started as pocket watch chains. They are sometimes called Albert chains because Prince Albert loved them and made them popular.
Her jewellery tells another story. She's wearing a set from Extasia - cameo and intaglio pressed glass necklace with bronze chain, Goddess Aurora earrings and acorn and oak leaf ring.
We could talk about symbolism here, but I'll spare you this essay. Just think about Roman Empire, strength, power, justice, and endurance.
This outfit has its counterpart in season 6. I'm planning to compare them because I have no chill.
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