#darksiders fan fiction

[thewittyphantom]

Found a really dark, sad post-DSOD fic where Kaiba's jaunt into the afterlife leaves him stuck as a passenger in his body, which is no longer responsive.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52847128

You can't take back the past. You can't take back what you've done. Sometimes you can't even say you're sorry.

[miracleinfeathers]

Вот и кончилось лето (◞‸◟ㆀ)

☆

That's the end of summer (◞‸◟ㆀ)

[prototypelq]

if i may ask, what's your favorite fictional horsie? (ask inspired by the recent darksiders posting, which btw has some awesome-looking horses :D)

MUTUAL YOU HAVE STEPPED ON A LANDMINE. or more like a pressure plate that is wired to a nuclear landmine under Me.

oh no I am forced to confront my sins over unhinged animal obsessions now, okay

(MAGIC HORSEGIRL TRANSFORMATION SEQUENCE)

sidenote: while writing this I realised that the ask implied any kind of fantasy horse, but I'm now shoulder-deep in gaming horses tangent soooooo lol sorry not sorry. as for fantasy outside of games I really like the idea of Sleipnir, or any other kind of multi-legged horse, Ghost Rider flaming spirit horse is also super cool. Any horse-like creature that is predatory is freakishly awesome. Additional points for adding horns, scales, or swapping hooves for split-fingered/artiodactyl-like legs.

To be honest, I wish this ask was harder to answer than it is, because truth be told, there are very few games with horses. Decent horse animation is even less common than actually good horses, which is another factor that makes me very sad and harder to enjoy these mounts. Additionally, most of the games use horses as... 'car stand-ins' basically, there's very rarely anything uniquely Horse TM about the mounts, and usually they feel like glorified speed booster with questionable animations.

(spoiler: no, rdr2 does not have good horse animation, I have looked with literal scientific lens at thas game, consulted with different horsegirl enthusiasts about it, saw literally every available to public lecture on everything-horse-developed for it, and have concluded that, horse animation is overly complicated with little to-no noticable results, as are most things with that game. more on this later)

I'll obviously be forced to come back to RDR2 topic, but shelf it for now. Here be some of my fav horsies in games, not in any particular order (except RDR2 which will be discussed below).

Darksiders is pretty much a DMC-cousin series but with horses and this makes it so cool. The designers of horses for the Riders of the Apocalypse have gone out of their way to make all the Riders and their mounts look absolutely stunning. Despair looks both awesome and riveting and is my personal fave, Rampage has Mane Magic TM same as his rider Fury, Mayhem looks really cool in that armor, but, of course, Ruin is the posterchild for the series, and rightfully so!

Ruin is built absolutely true to his name. This horse looks like it runs on V8 infernal engine and pisses nuclear monster energy. He has fangs. His hooves scorch the ground underneath. This horse has the muscle mass of a red giant sun about to go supernova. He looks absolutely insane, the only thing you could fear more than this horse in a room is the person who is controlling him. So yes, an extremely fitting mount for War. (Ruin also has awesome mane physics, much appreciated)

Sadly, out of four Darksiders games, there are horse levels only 2 of them - those being the first two games (3 and Genesis are good, Genesis especially, but they both distanced themselves from 'big maps with dungeons' style maps, so horses are not really needed. Genesis has levels you can ride in, but the horses are not really needed in it, still, they are a welcome addition, especially with fans getting the final fourth horse design). Darksiders I and II are very much horsegirlgamer games, as both have Mounted Bossfights, which are BADASS, the Guardian fight in DS2 especially. Both really make you feel like the mythic Rider of the Apocalypse, they are amazing.

Darksiders II also gets an important mention from me for having The Best Trot Animation In Gaming To This Date. The horse trot is fluid, looks very expressive and it's clear Despair slows a lot of this, so it's not his preferred gait for riding, but the main highlight is Death's animation.

Most of the games are lazy with trot, as one of the riding techniques for handling it is just...sitting in the saddle aggressively (I mean it literally, as horse movement on trot is designed to throw you off, so technique number one is basically pushing yourself back into the saddle to counteract this). So the games are usually lazy and just glue the rider to the saddle to show this. However, the second, easier really, way to ride on trot is posting, which is standing up and down in rhythm with the horse's leg movement. Problem with trot is that you need to relearn it for each individual horse, as they all have different builds, leg lengh, breed, etc. With one horse it's easier to stay sitting, with another it would be impossible, but posting will be easy to do, and with some horses you can't do either, so your only hope is holding on until you change speed and gait.

Death's movement in this trot animation is so fluid, so minimal and effortless - it's natural for him. He is in complete harmony with Despair, and the way he posts shows exactly that. 10/10 best trot animation ever, fight me.

Okay so, from a very much deserved highlight, to a not really deserved one - Dragon Age Inquisition. I'll say from the get-go, the mounts in this game suck, they don't even alter your speed of movement! They are completely useless. You could rip a minecraft horse in their place and it would feel better to control, be more useful and have better animation than DAI native mount system. That said, their designs are so cool, Dracolisks especially.

Fun fact, even the game's Horsemaster pretty much throws hands at seeing these things. You know how a normal horse when mean transformes into a 400 kilo beast with immense bite force and body mass that can crush you? Well, dracolisks don't look that heavy, but they also seem to be ready to hunt you for sport and giggles. 10/10 intense factor, they look awesome and as a supposed leader of a world-saving institution you look very impressive while riding them (and frighten 99% of the population). (it's also hilarious to imagine a Maximus-Flynn situation from Tangled between these temperamental beasts and your poor party members or love interest)

Thankfully, most of my mutuals have been acquired pretty recently, meaning, after my Big Horizons Phase xD I really love HZD, and one of the neat things about it is actually horses!

Horizon ZD is the game that has the best controlling horses out of all the games I've played (yes, even rdr2 loses to it for a big reason I will elaborate later on), and the formula of it's success is very fun to look into: it lies in three very important factors: horse brain, player controls and animation, all of which have been solved simply, yet with grace.

HZD has made sure that your chosen mount has it's own pathfinding system, which does not turn off when the player starts riding the creature, so you can, and I almost quote the devs here - you can ride into a patch of woods on high speed, leg go of your controller, and the horse will avoid collision on its own. Isn't it just great when your supposed animal has it's own pathfinding made to simulate brain activity and their feeling of self-preservation. Point two: controls. The most important aspect of HZD mount controls is that - you keep controlling Aloy, the moment she starts riding there is no magical control transition in favour of your mount. There is no 'go forward' button, even pushing the stick forward works only for walk. You keep controlling Aloy, who is now riding on top of a horse-like-machine, so to go faster you press the button for her to kick the horse into next gear. To stop or slow down, you don't use sticks and don't let go of 'go forward button', that will actually do nothing, instead you need to press the button to make Aloy hold the cords of the machine closer. Under the surface, every game's horses are just 'reskined cars', but details like this make the player feel different, make you feel like your controls don't magically transcend to the animal your controlled character is on top of. This detail is small, but it's impact is very big, I assure you. Point three: animation. HZD devs did an awesome animation trick for the running cycle of Aloy and the horses, as those two are the ones players see the most of, and they are the first ones to get repetitive and boring for the player. Basically, animators did three variations of run cycle with different weight distribution (model veers sideways and steers back into weight neutral position), then coded in a system to randomly blend bits of these run animations together. The result is a partially randomised run animation, made out of fleshed-out hand-made ones, so it always looks good, quite diverse, and is not as repetitive. (I wish I remembered the specific talk where devs explained this, but there are so many of them, all fascinating btw, and its been a few years so sorry no source for you)

Two honourable mentions for the games I have not played myself, but they really deserve it when we're talking about horsegirlgames: Zelda BOTW and Shadow of the Colossus. These games have horses right out of every horsegirl's dreams - they are big, their manes long and gorgeous, their run animation so cartoonishly expressive yet graceful, it's mesmerising. Certified horsegamergirl games.

Honestly, it's impossible to not fall in love with them (unless you don't have a platform to run either of these, ahaha, fuck console wars).

And now. Now for the black sheep of my horsegames list. RDR2.

Disclaimer: I have spent way too much time in this game. 'got Zoologist' kind of too much time. While I will be critical, the game is certainly an acquired taste, and there have been enough people singing praises to it and never having the issues I got after putting hundreds of hours into it. I had a great time, which turned very sour after these hundreds of hours. Some players keep loving this game forever, some despise it from the start. Play on your own to formulate a personal opinion and don't defer to any of these camps.

RDR2 is a western movie through and through, and by that I mean that the game is extremely pretty on the outside, but has nothing substantial on the insde. This illusion held for me for long enough, but I was much saddened by peeking behind the curtain, and seeing what I found there. Again, this is a personal issue, it doesn't mean the game is bad or good, but my dissapointement is tied pretty much directly to how the game handles horses, since, y'know, this is supposendly 'the ultimate horsegirl game'.

The sad truth is that RDR2 horses are exactly 'reskinned cars', which is the trap that renders most of gaming horses so so so boring, but the illusion the game creates holds strong for a long while, plus the personification of your horsie (saddle, mane customisation, etc.) actually strenghtens that illusion big time.

I have pointed out what HZD did right for horses to feel so good thoroughly for a reason, said reason is: RDR2 got every point on that list wrong.

Let me show you some examples of RDR2 horse pathfinding.

I chose these two specific clips for a reason - both are prime examples of exactly how lobotomised RDR2 horses are, but in different ways. First clip is user error (besides the fact that no horse could ever run on railways but I digress) - I have been enjoying the scenery too much, and the stick angle proved too much, so me and my beloved horse fell straight to our deaths off the side of that railway. I think it's pretty self-explanatory that irl horses are very self-preservation centered animals, and they don't just fall down random pits. If the RDR2 horses had kept their AI pathfinding running while the player controls them, this simple user error could have been negated - as the pathfinding system would quickly flash a 'don't fucking run into a pit', keep input from registering and the horse would just follow the side of the road without tumbling down. Which, in gamer's eyes would also roleplay as horse having it's own brains. The second example is even weirder - I've been using the 'cinematic mode', which means I put down the controller, and the horse is following the road to my chosen destination on his own, so, y'know, this should be a prime example of horse pathfinding. Wrong again! Granted, that weird woman is some sort of random event, she is not usually there, nor are there barrels, but if the object has a collison parameter it should have been freakin registered and the horse was supposed to jump over it.

So yeah, RDR2 horses are completely lobotomised to any sense of navigation, this has been likely done in favour of more direct player control and easier cinematic setups.

Point two: controls. This one is actually mixed, and I'll start with the good thing for a change. The good thing is RDR2 is literally the only game to allow for lateral movement for mount, in short, this allows you to turn around your horse clockwise while remaining in one place, basically spinning, on trot and gallop too no less! If you try the control inputs for this in any other game, you will end up circling around a set point, and not spinning in place. Which, very cool actually, and yeah the opportunity to do this feels good. Another great detail is Handling stat - which is, how responsive is your horse to your inputs (ex. more or less maneuverable, time to turn after input, how much you mash X to speed up to another gait), which all feel very distinct. Arabians are known for having exquisitely tight handling, you need only to lightly tap the button for them to listen to you, in contrast, work or draft horses will make live for your big thumb a living hell, as they need to be kicked a lot of times to do literally anything. This idea of changing character controls for each horse is very very good, and this I will gladly praise.

On the other hand RDR2 horse controls (dreadfuly). First off - your horse works based on a 'go forward' button mechanic, also the gait change is tied to it, and if you, for some reason, just 'let go' of your 'go forward button' you will after slowing down. I remember seeing a meme where the trigger and the X buttons were duck-taped to be constantly pressed on their own, and I can tell you it's not a joke. You just might need another controller after all the X mashing this game requires you to do. Just for horse controls - you mash X to go faster, you keep pushing X to remain at current speed, and the only time you let go of that button is to either mash it again, or if you want to slow down for a stop.

If you look at HZD controls explanation again, you might see just how damaging this control scheme is to the feel of your horse being an actual animal with their own head and brain, pair this controls madness with nonexistence of pathfinding, and well, RDR2 horses are justt lobotomised to a point of being a 'reskinned car'.

Last point, might be our saving grace here - animation. And, ehhhhhhhhhh, this one's positive but mixed. RDR2 devs did a great job at recognizing how different gait speeds for horses work, as well, gait is just the type of movement horse uses, it is not as strictly tied to speed as you might think. Just as you can hop down the street, or walk down the street at the same speed, trained horses can gallop at practicaly walking speed for shows (this does not work in reverse though - you cannot reach gallop speed while trotting). Game animators did their best to recognise and implement this, so the game is calculating leg movement and is blending animation when the gait-change is happening. However, what I ended up with in game, a lot of the time, is this:

I am not sure what this is caused by, I interpret this as the animation engine shrugging and going for a coffee break. This mistake is not uncommon at all, and there will be a lot of time when you see your horse 'hopping' like this with both front and back legs for a couple of seconds.

Let's just say, this is not how horses run. This is not even how they could run if they want to, or are trained to do this. Horses' entire anatomy revolves around their movement, which is built on a foundational truth that legs move in a set pattern, if that pattern is broken - horse will damage itself.

Again, this is likely just a technical issue, it appears often enough, but unless you know this is an error, you will likely sleep soundely at night. As you can see, I am not one of those people. I did not sleep soundly at night after looking into this. I have also consulted with all my horsegirl friends and a horsekeeping student over this and all of them confirmed this as an error. Still, it is very strange, that a game that bragged it has horse testicle physics down, has this blatant and frequent animation error in it.

Okay, I've thrashed RDR2 quite enough I think, the last bit I wanted to list here is another positive one. Muscle animation and animal sounds is this game are certified clinically insane. All the breathing muscle movement after cantering has been noted and animated to a golden standard, head muscle, snorting, leg muscle, all of these look insanely good. I mean literally insanely good, the animators that worked on this deserve awards.

Also, you could never say no to horse customisation. So, I wanted to wrap this monster of a post with a compilation of my RDR2 pretty horses photomoding.

[deviljayman]

Writeblr Intro

I'm excited to be here and do one of these!

About me: You can call me Jay! I'm 19 (almost 20) and go by He/They pronouns. I'm in college and fighting everyday lmao.

I've been writing for a long time, lots of fan fiction in elementary school I wrote in notebooks. I play a ton of D&D and have a bunch of weird interests that you'll probably see my talking about here.

I've always had a passion for experiencing and telling stories, along with that I like trying to understand why certain works effect me so much. The emotions that things inspire in me are important and I want to understand why they make me feel that way, I want for people to feel as strongly as the things I make as I do with my favorite works of art.

My writing: I write about a lot of things but my current big WIP is a fantasy story. I really love fantasy, high fantasy and dark fantasy specifically.

I like exploring themes of systemic oppression, religious and parental trauma, as well as people trying to overcome these things and form connections with others. I really like to play with the more fun aspects of YA but infuse it with more mature themes and problems for the characters to grapple with.

My inspirations for my writing comes a lot from authors like Kentaro Miura, Go Nagai, and Katsura Hoshino. Each of their stoires have left profound impacts on me not just as a writer but as a person. Their work showed me that fiction can change people and inspire incredible feeling and emotion that I want to inspire in my own work. I also take a lot of inspiration from Matt Mercer's DMing, the way he tells his stories in the realm of D&D I think is so engaging and I think it could be used in mediums like books to engage readers more.

My current WIP is called Darksider! It deals with a bunch of fantasy monsters like vampires, werewolves, and harpies with them being the main characters. I felt like a lot of stories don't let them be protagonists and I really wanted to change that.

The main idea is that it's about the world's of monsters and men waring against each other. The leader of the nation of monsters is known as the Shade Lord, an eternally reincarnating soul that acts as the ruler to the nation. A young vampire child, Arlin, is the newest Shade Lord. However, he doesn't want to be a king. He's a young man who's whole life has been planned out for him and who is trying to fight against that fate to build his own path.

I'll be posting some WIPs and drafts for Darksider and maybe some other things soon, hope you stick around and read my stuff! It would really mean the world for people to read my work.

[an-aura-about-you]

you know, it's interesting seeing how people recommend things. and sometimes people will shoot themselves in the foot by recommending things the wrong way.

like, I see people suggesting to skip the first season of The Magnus Archives so that you can get to the plot of the story faster. but if someone told me to do that, I probably wouldn't have gotten hooked the way I did because the thing that made me like The Magnus Archives is the anthology horror part since I was already a fan of things like The Twilight Zone, Tales from the Darkside, and Beyond Belief: Fact or Fiction? (I also would have been royally pissed if I went back to listen to it because a lot of my favorite episodes are actually in season 1.)

that's also one of the reasons why I haven't been as interested in/am now behind on listening to/considering dropping The Magnus Protocol since, whether it's all the show's doing or just my perception of it from people talking about it on my feed, it feels like it's loading in a lot of the plot from the get-go without as much focus on the thing I originally liked from the first show. and it's fine if it ultimately ends up not being for me. that's just the way it is with sequels sometimes.

it also gets frustrating if people recommend things based on medium instead of taste. "oh, you like opera? well you have to listen to Wagner!" Ok But What If I Don't Like Wagner?? what if I've already seen more than enough of Wagner's stuff to last a lifetime, which is easy to do since the shortest of his operas that I've seen still clocks in at over 2 hours. even if I'm exploring a medium that's relatively new to me, I'm not exploring it in a void. I'll still have my tastes and preferences.

I don't know where I was going with this or if I was even going anywhere. I guess maybe it's just listen to people? that's always worth doing, especially if you're about to pitch something to them.

[duckprintspress]

Our monthly “created works round-ups” are Duck Prints Press’s opportunity to spotlight some of the amazing work that people working with us have done that ISN’T linked to their work with Duck Prints Press. We include fanworks, outside publications, and anything else that creators feel like sharing with y’all! Inclusion is voluntary and includes anything that they decided “hey, I want to put this on the created work’s round-up!”

Check out what they’ve shared with us this month…

-

Strife by Smehur / @smehur

art || darksiders || no ships || general audiences || no major warnings apply || complete

summary: Strife playing with his magic on some long forgotten world.

TUMBLR - INSTAGRAM - TWITTER

-

Ikarose by Elsin / @lostinthewinterwood

fiction || the good place || platonic or familial || kamilah al-jamil & tahani al-jamil || general audiences || creator choses not to use warnings || 1,105 || complete

summary: Icarus, in dual.

(or: what's it like, to be Kamilah Al-Jamil?)

other tags: Character Study, Relationship Study, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Mythology, Magic, A Study in Metaphor, Narrative Ghost Tahani Al-Jamil

AO3

-

in hellish darkness (even skulls shine like stars) by nottesilhouette / @nottesilhouette

fiction || percy jackson & the olympians || platonic or familial || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 2,098 || complete

summary: Nico and Reyna make their way back from Greece, the Statue of Athena in tow. Along the way, they talk about loneliness, being left behind, and love.

other tags: cw: depression, cw: PTSD

TUMBLR - AO3

-

Not a Spiral but a Spring by Shadaras / @shadaras

fiction || quanzhi gaoshou | the king's avatar - hudie lan || platonic or familial || fang xuecai & team thunderclap || teen & up || no major warnings apply || 44,628 || complete

summary: Team Thunderclap trades Captain Xiao Shiqin to Team Excellent Era in exchange for Liu Hao—slotted to become Thunderclap's new captain—and He Ming.

Thunderclap’s Vice-captain, Fang Xuecai, is uncertain how this trade will impact the team in Season Nine, but he's going to do his best to ensure the team plays their best. After all, a team is more than one person; losing their captain shouldn't mean losing their identity or their spirit. However, Season Nine of the Glory Professional Alliance will test this belief in a myriad of unexpected ways...

other tags: ESports, Toxic Workplace Relationship, Friendship, Teamwork, Character Study

AO3

​-

Happy reading and happy creating! 😀

Who We Are: Duck Prints Press LLC is an independent publisher. We work with fan creators to publish their original work. We are particularly dedicated to publishing stories and art featuring characters from across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum. Love what we do? Sign up for our monthly newsletter and get previews, behind-the-scenes information, coupons, and more! Want to support the Press, read about us behind-the-scenes, learn what’s coming down the pipeline, get exclusive teasers, and claim free stories? Back us on Patreon monthly!

[countessrivers]

Your Alex Rider fics are next level and live rent free in my head. Honestly your combination of incredible sex and heart gripping emotional arcs make for addictive reading!

I am so excited for Alex Rider season 3. As a AR fan fiction writer is there something in particular you want the show to cover?

Stop, anon, you're too nice.

It actually means the world that you're enjoying my writing. Thank you.

I can't wait for season 3. I'm excited to see how Yassen is worked into the Scorpia storyline, can't wait for #girlboss Julia, and I hope they delve into the Rider family's history with Scorpia plenty - John obviously, but Ian too (given he and Yassen seem to know each other). I want to know what happened when Scorpia was "destroyed" so badly.

Also, Alex just spending another 8 episodes absolutely Going Through It while various Scorpia agents try to seduce him to the darkside.

[the-undetermined-watcher]

Probably the only time I'll be drawing legs but damn I love how this dress turned out for Akedah! This dress design is for an upcoming chapter in my Darksiders fan fiction " Beginning of the end, part two." @imagine-darksiders

[sophi-s]

After three days. Three freaking days.

It is finished.

A kiss to die for

By: sophi-s (me)

Words: 4,531

Franchise: Darksiders video games

Characters: Fallen!Astarte, Abaddon

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, near death experience, angst, necromancy, I changed the storyline just a tiny bit for the purposes of this, Abaddon gets his ass handed to him by his ex :P.

--------------------------------------------------

Eden. The first gift from the Creator himself to the Humanity. A home for the First Ones. Once, an indescribably beautiful place full of grand trees and fresh, soft grass, flowing with cool, crystal clear waters. Colorful fruits growing in the trees, a delight to eye and tongue. Within, no danger could reach Humanity's ancestors. Truly a paradise the first humans rightfully called it. But now, after a great war that took place here, seemingly not that long ago, the great garden was left scarred and burning. Made into a tomb for those who sought to claim it. Bodies of Nephilim were left to burn and decay, forgotten and abandoned.

However, something has changed. A dark shadow passed over the sacred graveyard, leaving only madness and corruption in its wake. Those who perished picked themselves up from the ground and lashed out at Eden's guardians. Surprised and unable to respond with a coordinated defensive, the Faneguard had to call for retreat after their leader, Malahidael fell to the blades and arrows of the living dead. Amongst the scattered angels was the general of Heaven's Legions. Trying his best to keep his brethren focused and plan a tactical escape.

At least that's what he was trying before. Before he saw the cause of this nightmare. Now, outstretched on the ground in the dust, he forced himself up onto his elbow as he crawled towards his discarded blade, clutching at his chest that felt as though it had been caved in after a charging monstrosity trampled him in full speed.

How could this happen?

Fighting with his chaotic thoughts, he finally got a hold of the hilt but when he turned around, it was already too late. A large paw armed with razor-sharp claws landed on him, pinning him down and successfully immobilizing his lower half. And then his own blue eyes stared up into a pair of white ones, the same eyes that doomed him from the moment he met their gaze for the first time. The eyes that occupied his thoughts when he was awake and his dreams while he slept. Eyes of Astarte.

But what stood above him… this thing, this monster was Astarte no longer. From the waist up, the woman was stunningly beautiful as she always was, with her pale white eyes and long flowing, platinum blonde hair. But her legs have been replaced by a body of a feline beast with wings coated in blackness of corruption, feathers shimmering with red glyphs. A wicked smile was twisting her petal like lips and wherever her clawed paws fell, the dead bodies shivered and rose, called back into the accursed unlife. Utter insanity shone in her eyes.. Keeping his stone façade was no longer possible as inwardly he was falling apart. Astarte. The same Astarte who would kill and die for him, the same who he trusted more than anyone. The same Astarte he dared to love. Her smirk grew wider as she chuckled.

"Who do we have here? The great general of Heaven's Legions Abaddon himself!"

The unfamiliar taunting tone of her voice sent a shiver down his spine, as did the way she bared her teeth in a disturbing grin. Giving the large paw a tug to try and wriggle free, quickly realising it's pointless as the damned thing didn't even budge, Abaddon took a struggling breath, pretty sure his sternum was damaged if not broken.

"Astarte…"

His voice came out as a broken, pleading whisper. He still couldn't… or maybe he didn't want to… cope with what he was seeing clearly like on the palm of his hand. Astarte, his most formidable soldier, the strongest of them all, and the only woman in the Universe he felt something special for… Fallen into the vice-like grip of Lucifer's corrupting influence. Gone was the gentle smile that crawled its way up onto her face whenever she spotted him. Abaddon swallowed thickly when he noticed the spear in her hand poised to strike and carve his broken heart out from his chest. Astarte would never harm him…

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

She scoffed and used her other paw to press his right arm to the ground should he try to take a swipe at her. But they both knew far too well that he couldn't have, even if he wanted to. Astarte leaning over him was still the one his heart yearned for, still beautiful just… in a different, more horrifying way. Through the ringing in his ears after his head cracked against a rock, he could hear someone call out to him but whoever it was, they were successfully pushed back by the horde of undead Nephilim.

"Astarte, don't do it.."

He quietly begged, even though he never begs. Seeing her like this, twisted and bestial, did something to him he couldn't quite comprehend. Touched that part of his soul he didn't even know about. Strangely enough, even in her madness, Astarte must've sensed something in him that gave her a pause as she curiously tilted her head to one side. All the moments, even the shortest ones, he'd spent with Astarte in the past were flashing before his eyes. Every time they had one another's back in battle, every time one saved the other's life, every time they spoke about the things they would never tell anyone else whenever they were alone. And that memorable moment when they stood together, away from the prying eyes that moonlit night. Abaddon was listening to her as she asked him if what she feels is right, if there's any possible way he feels that way as well. He almost laughed at her obliviousness and the fact that his love was there before she even realised her own. Of course.. He took her hands in his and gazed into her eyes, absolutely mesmerized, waiting for permission to finally grant her the proof of his love and devotion, one which she silently gave him with a nod and a smile.

"I would walk through the fire of Nine Hells for you."

He said before leaning down to place a chaste kiss on her lips. A kiss, stolen kiss he was dying to receive. It was very brief but still felt like his first flight over the White City. Liberating, wonderful and equally as intoxicating. Those were the most beautiful memories he'd ever made but now they were like a parasite buried deeply into his brain, one that refused to leave his head, reminding him of better times and cackling maniacally at him as the present was coming undone before his very eyes. He wanted those memories to go. But there was no escape. Neither from them nor from Astarte herself.

"Look at me.."

"I am."

"Please, come to your senses. It's not you.. You need to fight it, I know you have it in you. Don't leave me like this… Don't you remember everything I'd done for you? Everything you'd done for me ?"

For a second, Astarte's grin fell, making place for a thoughtful expression and for this short second Abaddon dared to hope that there's still light in her. That he somehow managed to get to her. But all these hopes were taken away when she shook her head and looked at him… not with anger. It was pity, plain and simple as she spoke in a condescending tone.

"Fool. So loyal and righteous. Look around! The war had ended long ago, yet we remain stranded in this forsaken tomb! We've been abandoned and no one will set us free if we don't do so ourselves! Don't tell me you cannot see it."

He couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't the honorable and just angel he used to know. The Astarte he knew was gone. This was a twisted monster bearing the visage of his dearest, taunting him with her beauty that was always keeping his hand paralyzed whenever he tried to strike her even though his life depended from it.

"I have chosen my path, Abaddon. And you can walk it with me.."

Abaddon eyed her hand warily as she stretched it out to him, offering him help in standing up. He was torn. On the one hand, he so, so wanted to accept and be with Astarte as he used to. No one would take her from him ever again. But taking her hand would also mean slipping into the hateful darkness. Welcoming the sullying blackness inside and succumbing to madness. Straying from the light and forsaking his duty in favor of the same accursed power that destroyed her.

It was a dangerous thing, this love.. Pushing even the most reasonable people to do unthinkable and dangerous things in the name of it. More often than not at costs that rarely make it worth it. Lucifer knew this. And he used it as a weapon against Abaddon by turning Astarte. He knew not what the Dark Prince offered her but it must've been worth losing oneself. Astarte was now Lucifer's servant, not the love of Abaddon's eternal life. He couldn't… he couldn't end up like her. His already bleeding heart screamed out with anguish when he finally gathered himself to speak.. and refused.

"I… can't do this, Astarte. Not even for you…"

"That's a pity…"

Abaddon grunted in pain when the pressure on his wrist increased to the point when he could feel his bones beginning to crack. And then as suddenly as it appeared, the crushing weight was gone, both from his arm and his chest. But he wasn't free. His breath was abruptly cut off when Astarte's slender fingers, which often fiddled with his hair when he had a moment to lie down and rest after a hard day, looking up at her sitting beside his head, before all this, mercilessly curled around his throat and lifted him up to her eye level until his toes could no longer reach the ground. She was strong. Stronger than he remembered. His left hand grasped Astarte's wrist as he tried to struggle free while he raised his sword to attack. But… looking deep into her eyes, at her face, mouth curved in a poisonous sweet smile, the silken skin of her cheeks… His hand trembled. Once again he proved her and himself he doesn't have it in him to do this. Damn it all. This one, seemingly harmless emotion was what ultimately led him to his own doom. If he'd never fallen for Astarte he wouldn't be here, flapping his wings madly in an attempt to wriggle out of her hold. But he couldn't command his heart. It would not listen to him.. Abaddon couldn't simply stop loving Astarte. Her eyebrows furrowed in a gentle frown and he felt the tip of her gilded spear press insistently against his abdomen, right under his ribs. Cold sweat began to bead around his brow. Oh Creator…

"Fret not, love.."

Astarte purred, making him finally stop beating his wings and look her in the eye again only to see an unsettling spark in there. Despite the obvious danger, hearing her call him her "love" in this deceivingly sweet voice still made his racing heart skip a beat.

"It won't be long.. And when you die, you'll be forever at my side. Just as you desired."

As a monster, not unlike her. A living corpse that defiled the natural order by its existence itself. He didn't want to go like this. What an end it is for a general of Heaven? Killed by his own lieutenant and brought back to life as a shambling husk of what he used to be? Preposterous. Cold lump of fear settled into the pit of his stomach. He could only count seconds. One.. two… it didn't even come to three when the blade sunk deeply into his flesh, piercing the armor as though it wasn't even there in the first place and running him through. After all, the spear was created specifically to fight armored opponents… Abaddon wanted to scream out in pain but the wail of agony was cut short by the firm grasp on his throat that stopped the air escaping his lungs. Pain clouded his vision but did not silence his racing thoughts. He was weak. He couldn't strike Astarte down as his enemy, denying her the well deserved rest and falling to her blade like a fool he felt like. He struggled to breathe and keep his eyes opened when he felt Astarte loosen her ironclad grip on his neck and move her hand to his face, oh so gently pulling the strands of his hair, matted with sweat, to the side and behind his ear before placing the same hand on the back of his neck to keep his head still. He gasped for air through his opened mouth as blood was beginning to well up in his throat and dribble down his chin. And then Astarte unexpectedly leaned in and decisively captured his lips with her own, granting him the final kiss for a farewell.

Abaddon's eyes widened in fear and shock but even though the pain of the spear through his side, he found himself going slack in Astarte's arms. His ornate blade clattered to the ground when his fingers unfurled and let it slip out. No strength remained within him to even try and respond to Astarte's lips, even if he wanted to. But what he hoped to be his last comfort turned out to be nothing more than a cruel torment with how cold and meaningless the kiss felt. It was nothing like the one back in the White City. Hollow seconds ticked by. It tasted only of the blood flooding his tongue and the bitter defeat. No love, no passion and no feelings remained in her black heart. Only the empty void and tasteless ashes… Monster. Astarte no longer… She would never hurt him…

Astarte knew him and all of his weak spots all too well. She knew how and where to strike to make it hurt. And this last kiss was only a tool to her. There wasn't any physical pain anymore when she finally pulled away with his blood painting her lips in deep crimson and let his body slip down the spear to collapse onto the shriveled grass. The last thing Abaddon saw before numbing darkness swallowed him was Astarte delightedly licking his scarlet life essence on her mouth and teeth before she hummed contentedly

"Farewell, my love. I'll see you again soon enough…"

She stood close, gazing at the distant stars shimmering in the black sky.

"The night sure is beautiful."

"It is. Even more so with you around."

"Tsk. Sweet-talker…"

In the impenetrable black, Abaddon heard nothing, saw nothing and felt nothing aside from the dull ache within his chest. Betrayal… Every beat of his heart was a torture. He couldn't even tell if it was really beating or not anymore. It bled ceaselessly. Craving for the lost love. Crying out to Astarte as something started to tug at the strings of his very soul. Trying to pull him free from his still body that refused to move no matter how much he wished to stand or at least sit up. Memories were passing all too quickly through his head. Eyes shining with uncertainty, a relieved smile as he staggered upright with a pained grimace that was supposed to be a comforting smile..

" Are you certain everything is alright? For a moment there I was afraid you were gone.."

"Never, my light. I would never leave you."

He wasn't going to the Kingdom of the Dead, he was certain. Astarte would make sure of it.. Curse Lucifer.. curse this wretched feeling still coiled in his chest, like a festering plague. Warriors of Heaven are people of unbreakable steel. Calm and collected beings of logic. But when it comes to honest feelings, there's nothing in between. They either don't care or love to the death. And when they love and it all falls apart, their hearts break like no one else's. No, they don't even break… they shatter to a million pieces like a frozen flower. And even if they are ever put back together, they're never the same. Those scars run too deep to ever disappear. Curse everything… Soft hair he tangled his fingers in, a heartbeat right beside his… warm presence next to him and a misleadingly delicate cheek pressed to the skin on top of his chest..

"What happens now then?"

"Doesn't matter. As long as we stay together."

"We will, Abaddon…"

He tasted the copper tinge of blood again as Astarte's voice echoed in his head when she swore to him. When he believed her..

I  P R O M I S E .

Those two words… They meant a world to him. Even after he saw what Astarte had become… Abaddon desperately clung to those words like a drowning man holds onto the final breath until the very last second. And that was his downfall. She promised me…

The last memory of Astarte before all this chaos wormed its way into his mind. A less pleasant one. He could see there was something wrong with her back then. This was the first time they had a true falling out. Well.. can this really be called a falling out if it was just him being yelled at? Astarte was changed already. Something happened to her after the Nephilim slaughter. Something he had foolishly overlooked. Maybe he was just too preoccupied with his own grief? Blood tumbled down from her wound, painting both her and his armor in vibrant red from where a crude spear met her body… 

It didn't take long for the last of the Nephilim to fall when this happened. She held onto life tightly as he led her deeper into the garden where healers would take care of her. Abaddon waited outside the tent, pacing back and forth until Azrael, who'd been tending to Astarte himself, walked out. A slender hand fell onto his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and making him look at his old friend bearing a sullen expression. He'd never been so terrified in his life like in this short moment when he waited for Azrael to inevitably tell him that it was too late to help her but he merely asked Abaddon to come with him inside. Somehow, it was even worse. He saw her sitting on the edge of a cot, face pale, lips pressed into a thin line, staring at nothing. Eyes of other angels were on the three of them as the two archangels walked in. It was a relief to see her alive but there was no doubt that something was wrong. The patches of fresh crimson staining her trousers on her inner thighs only confirmed his suspicions. And Azrael didn't keep him waiting for an explanation.

"She was with child.."

The news hit him like a slug to the face. With a sack of bricks no less. Astarte, his beloved, bearing his blood in her womb. By all means he should feel ecstatic. He should rejoice. But this one word, this tiny word filled him with absolute dread. Was.

"The blade went deep.. There was nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

Who knows how long he stood there like a wooden stake? There was nothing I could do. Azrael was inarguably the best healer in the White City. He knew what he was saying. And yet… Abaddon found it difficult to believe his words. A child. His child. Died before they even had a chance to live.. It hurt more than any wound he'd ever received. When he finally could move, he approached Astarte and sat beside her, reaching for her hand to give her something to hold on to. But her violent reaction caught him off guard. She jerked away, her words dripped like acid.

"It's your fault. Get away from me!"

"Astarte, listen.."

"No! It never should've happened! Why would you do this to me?!"

This was the first time she called him per "you" in the presence of other angels. He knew not what she was truly going through but if his own sorrow was any indication, it must've been a nightmare. They'd lost something they didn't even know they had and it felt like the end of the world they'd built together. In a way, it was... Abaddon tried reaching out again but Astarte batted his hand away and leaped up to her feet despite the pain.

"Don't touch me! Do not speak to me, get off!"

"Astarte!"

He managed to call out before she stormed out of the tent, wrapping her wings around herself as a barrier that could protect her from the world around. Were it not for a firm grip on his arm, he would've gone after her. It was Nathaniel who stopped him. Abaddon looked at his friend, the right side of his face wrapped up in bandages just like his side he was keeping his hand over.

"It's not going to help. Let her go for now."

It's been a long time since he felt this lonely. He left the tent without another word, ignoring whatever it was Azrael was saying, and walked away from the camp like a wandering spectre who lost its way to the Well. And when he was far enough, he found himself collapsing on the ground, angrily hitting it with his fist as though it was the culprit here. They died without so much of a name.. Abaddon knew that what Astarte said wasn't true. He had no idea, it can't have been his fault… and yet this thought kept bothering him.

I should've protected you better. I have failed you.. both of you…

It took a couple of shaky breaths to collect his thoughts. Unable to do anything else, he pulled himself to his knees, clasped his hands together and started to whisper a prayer, seeking compassion in the Creator and his silent presence.

Astarte was already slipping after that and the prolonged stay in Eden only made it worse. She became distant and irritable, constantly itching for a fight, be it with words or blades. He thought she needed time to grieve. But this was something else. Something more sinister. Perhaps if he noticed it earlier.. done something… If only…

The odd tugging suddenly ceased and moments later a wave of comforting warmth washed all over him, gathering in his side where he was impaled. Deep within his chest, he felt his heart quiver, desperately fighting to keep beating. At first he thought he was merely waiting for Astarte to pull him back into the land of the living as a detestable abomination but no.. He yet lived. His thoughts were abruptly dispersed when he heard voices, very familiar and concerned voices, break through, the buzzing in his head.

"Did that do it?"

"Is he even alive ?"

"Hard to tell. It doesn't look good.."

"No, it doesn't.. Do you think we got to him on time?"

"I do not know. I'm not even sure if- Wait, I think he moved."

Abaddon indeed stirred, prying his eyes open with no small effort, immediately regretting his choice after a far too bright light intruded underneath his eyelids, and descending into a fit of uncontrollable coughs, spitting out all the blood that remained within as soon as he took a deeper breath. Pain. Horrible, excruciating pain filled his chest. He had been right. His sternum was definitely broken.

Damn all of it. Damn Lucifer, damn the Nephilim and damn the blasted air that hurt his lungs with every breath. Mist eventually fell from his sights, revealing to him familiar, tired faces of angelic soldiers leaning over him with distressed looks. His men. The Faneguard. They survived. Some of them at least… Malahidael wasn't so lucky.. One of them, Fariel if his memory doesn't deceive him, was holding up Abaddon's hand in his, and held between his curled fingers, Abaddon noticed an emptied crystal, a used up healing shard glimmering in the sunlight as the energy that was channelled into his body began to close the torn blood vessels.

"Lord Abaddon. Can you hear me?"

Gasping for another bit of air, horribly weakened but still very much alive and likely to stay that way, Abaddon gurgled out a disturbing sound that was supposed to be a miserable chuckle. In honesty, it sounded more like a dying demon than a laugh.. It only served to agitate them even further until he breathed out with relief and nodded as no coherent word could form in his mouth. What happened to Astarte when he was on death's door, he could only guess. But one thing he was sure of. She was still out there. Raving mad and dangerous to all who step into Eden. The law was clear. Astarte had fallen into darkness, defiled the dead and raised her weapon against her brethren. This was not an easy decision but after what he'd seen and lived through, Abaddon was certain now. He tried to bring her back, save her from the hate that grew within her like a malicious weed. But she was clearly too far gone. He couldn't help her.. Too late. As always, he was too late. Whether Abaddon likes it or not, Astarte needs to die. There was nothing more he could do for her. But he won't be the one to play the executioner and the hand of justice. He knew he couldn't. He'd failed twice already.. It will be done, just… not now.

Perhaps another time… They were safe for now. And he needed to think… Abaddon lifted his free hand to his mouth. It was still there, this horrid sensation.. and he knew it won't go away for a long, long time. Resting his head against the ground, he exhaled heavily as blessed unconsciousness started to take a hold on him once more. He needed to rest. They all did…

Even as he was falling into the dark again, he could still feel Astarte's venomous kiss upon his lips. Burning like fire and sinking cruel claws into his chest. Would he ever forgive her for tearing his heart apart? Probably. It wasn't her fault after all. It can't be, can it? Would he ever forget, though? Unlikely.. Abaddon couldn't help but wonder… if it was all his fault? He couldn't command his feelings and order them to leave him. But still, he felt guilty. Not even for Astarte's fall anymore but for ever letting this infatuation control him. That's where this love had gotten him so far. It left him weak and vulnerable. It was beautiful while it lasted but now? Only suffering remained.

No wonder Heaven has such a disdain for love. It causes naught but misery and ruin. A dire thought invaded his hazy mind. It matters not what Astarte had done. He still loved her. Soon, she will be put to rest. And him? Well.. Every, even the greatest warrior has to fall in battle. Eventually… And when that day comes, he will be ready to embrace his end. When that day comes.. they will meet again. Maybe... But until then… His heart hastened even still as he took another breath and silently told himself…

…Never again…

--------------------------------------------------

It.. it was supposed to be short? I did say short fic, didn't I? Uhh.. Whoops 😓

Also, Gimp 2 has nearly succeed in driving me nuts. In Poland we say "stand on eyelashes and clap one's ears" when something is nigh impossible. Yeah. That was that.

Btw, I take back everything I said about Abaddon's shoulder pads , they're mf'ing gorgeous 👌

[thewittyphantom]

I found a really long, really in-depth look at Ryou Bakura from the Toei anime/early manga on that started with the question ‘If DSOD showed his father was dead the whole time, who paid the bills?’

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30501474/chapters/75220077

It was his first experience with death. He would have given anything for it to have been his last, but it was far, far from it. A character study of Ryou Bakura, beginning before Season Zero through to The End.

[granddaughterogg]

Darksiders: The Great House Party - chapter 1

This is more of a polished snippet, guys. But since you don’t seem to like those huge-ass lumps of text I’ve dumped on Tumblr anyway, I’m gonna cut this story into small chapters and publish those as I go. This part is only fluff and totally wholesome. Includes Reader being bratty, Death being a Cultured Badass and Strife making a lame-ass joke. Enjoy!

The sharpshooter appraised you with a half-lidded look. His freckled skin was dark, but not quite brown. You’ve never met a human – or any other being, really - with a hide of such colour. It had deep purplish tones of a ripe eggplant.

Those golden eyes shined like coals in contrast. And now they glided all over you.

It produced a weird sensation in your spine. Not exactly unpleasant, just...alerting. Like that time long ago when you licked a 9V battery and got shocked.

They were no easy answers with Strife. You couldn’t tell what his deal exactly is. You two bickered, you two bonded, you fell out over something trivial, rinse and repeat. Sometimes he made fun of you, sometimes he seemed to really care. Was that buddying camaraderie, or just teeth-clenched teamwork? The most laid-back of the Horsemen kept you on your toes, all the time.

*

The night was damp, sultry, vibrating with lights and music. It came at you as this onslaught of sensation: too many, all at once, like a wave. You could feel your legs giving in. Your better judgement getting off the hinges, bending like a boiled noodle.

You felt hot, bothered and not exactly sober. Although not nearly drunk enough for your poor choices.

So maybe it were those three beers that did the talking. Maybe it was just you.

„I feel like doing something stupid...”, you said in a low voice.

His eyes went huge. In that moment you could see nothing else. Two golden moons, glimmering with drunken lust and feverish hope. His smile was like a shark’s. You should’ve been put off by the grimace – but then again, you did have had those three beers.

„Well then, kid, you’ve come to the right Horseman”.

*Three weeks earlier*

A party!

The idea sprouted in your head during one of those long, awfully hot summer nights. It so happened that none of the Riders had any murderous business to attend. Unless prodded to do something together, they spent their free time much like giant cats. That is: exerting minimal effort.

They lazied around on sofas, which has been moved out to the spacious veranda. It didn’t help much with the heat. But the night wind rustling through greenery surrounding the house was nice.

Now it blew through War’s shiny hair while he dozed off. The moths smashed their little furry bodies against the lamp. Fury chuckled softly, those pearly peepers glued to the monitor of her laptop.

Strife decimated a pile of doughnuts, while Death read War and Peace.

It sure was peaceful. Which means that nothing happened.

You hanged around them with a humongous glass of iced tea, feeling more hot and bored by the minute.

„It will take you forever to finish this”, you chimed in, tracing the Reaper’s pale forearm with your fingers.

„It just so happens that I have forever.” He didn’t even lift eyes from the page.

You felt like an ignored puppy.

„Why would you spend even a minute of it on this musty ol’ doorstop of a book anyway?” You whined, climbing onto the Reaper’s tight abdomen and leaning over the tome in his hand.

Death gave out a sigh.

„I see”, he said with a half-smirk, stroking your chin with his long fingers. „You wish I’d lavish you with attention instead?”

You pouted. „Well, yeah! I’m bored outta my mind.”

„Later”, declared Death and got back to reading.

„Whut?”

„I’ll attend to you later. Very thoroughly, too.”

Damn his narrow ass! The eldest Rider had such a way of announcing those things. Curt, even standoffish, yet subtly playful in his own way. As much as you’d wish to get all in a huff - you felt defeated by the note of dry amusement in his voice.

But you sure as hell weren’t going to show it.

„Death!...”

„Didn’t you hear what I just said? Now get off me, will you? I’m about to get to the good part.”

Strife chortled - and then had the gall to wink when your head sprung back. The bastard.

„There are no good parts in damn War and Peace”, you mumbled, scampering off the Russian literature aficionado. You set your hopes on War instead.

The Big Guy didn’t object to being crawled on, because he was snoring.

So you have lied flat on his broad chest, spread your arms wide and pretended to be this kid from Totoro.

The steady tide of War’s breath was like the sea’s murmur. Soothing.

„So, which part are you at, exactly?...” you muttered, pressing your cheek to the warm vastness that was the sleeping Horseman.

„Natasha and Prince Bolkonsky are having their first waltz”, said Death. „It’s exquisite.”

She’s gonna cheat on him and he will die in the war, you thought to yourself, but of course didn’t say it aloud. You said only:

„Waltz. Dancing...I’d love to dance.”

„Hey pancakes, you could always hit the town with me.” Strife chimed in, his lazy tone implying that he’s is absolutely not invested in the proposition.

„I could?..” You were baffled.

„As if I’d allow that”, said Death calmly and turned a page.

„Oh come on, D!”

„Yeah, D, don’t get your low cut panties in a twist..." Strife dispatched the last doughnut and casually threw the empty tray through the wide-open veranda doors, into the house. It flew with a „swoosh!” and bounced off the kitchen wall before falling precisely into the sink.

The showoff.

„It’s not like I’m gonna take my eyes off her...even for a second.”

The sharpshooter appraised you with a half-lidded look. His freckled skin was dark, but not quite brown. You’ve never met a human – or any other being, really - with a hide of such colour. It had deep purplish tones of a ripe eggplant.

Those golden eyes shined like coals in contrast. And now they glided all over you.

It produced a weird sensation in your spine. Not exactly unpleasant, just...alerting. Like that time long ago when you licked a 9V battery and got shocked.

They were no easy answers with Strife. You couldn’t tell what his deal exactly is. You two bickered, you two bonded, you fell out over something trivial, rinse and repeat. Sometimes he made fun of you, sometimes he seemed to really care. Was that buddying camaraderie, or just teeth-clenched teamwork? The most laid back of the Horsemen kept you on your toes, all the time.

„Those dens that you frequent are not suitable for her kind”, stated your most beloved Nephilim and got back to his read.

„Yeah, cause I’m such a delicate flower, me”, you snorted.

Death ignored you. He would accommodate you in many ways, but he got downward paranoid when it came to your safety.

Those fears of his weren’t all unfounded. Many marauder demons still traipsed the post-Revival Earth; remnants of a once-great army, eager for food or just for something alive to toy with. And during your shared journey through the realms Death witnessed how easy to kill or maim you are.

You couldn’t blame him for being overprotective.

Further bickering seemed pointless. Instead you got an idea. It flashed upon you abruptly like the cartoon lightbulb.

„Let’s throw a party”, you said.

„Huh?...” Strife didn’t seem to follow.

„I said, let’s throw a party. Here. In this house. Let’s get booze and food and stuff. Let’s finally put those bigass speakers you got to play RDR2 to good use. Let’s invite all sorts of folks over and be merry!

„Those are damn good speakers...” remarked Strife slowly.

„Yeah.” You grinned. „That’s what I’m saying. Now imagine Fuel blasting through them.”

„You’ve got me here, pumpkin”, said Strife, throwing his hands in the air. „I’m sold.”

You turned to his twin. „Fury?”

„Oh, I don’t care much about parties”, said the purple-haired one. Her eyes were fixed on funny cats prancing through Youtube. Then she sat up and brushed a tendril behind her shapely ear. „Wait. Did you just say you can make music play really loud tho?”

„As loud as you wish it to be.”

She licked her lips. „Even...Beyoncé?”

You subdued a knowing chuckle. The only thing bigger than the rageful vixen’s newfound affinity for cheesy pop songs...was her need to hide this fondness from her kin. It seemed to have wavered though.

„Especially Beyoncé.” you said, your mouth tilting upwards. „I can’t imagine a better tune to dance the night away.”

„Then I’m on board with this”, said Fury swiftly.

Half of the crew down, another half to go.

„Hey, War!” you jumped up and down, sitting astride the snoring giant. If he were a regular man, he’d probably wake up with a start. War just opened his bright eyes - slowly - and gave you a smile that was not quite there.

„What is it, Little One?...”

„We’re gonna give a party!” You bounced off his firm stomach, excited like a toddler. „Lots of music, lots of booze, lots of people, too! You’re with us?”

„What about food?” That was the Red Rider’s only input. Then he yawned, grunted and stretched to his whole impressive length. The ripple that went through this powerful body almost knocked you over. You laughed breathlessly and clutched onto his shirt.

„Food, sure. We can build a barbecue of epic proportions. Like the one we used to have back when I stayed with the Makers. I’m sure Ulthane will know how to run one.”

„Ulthane! Haven’t seen this old stump for some time now. Also, I’d love some roasted meat.” War’s peepers shone brightly at the idea of a feast; you needn’t coax him further. As Strife’s put it - he was sold.

That left you just with one remaining member of the Nephilim Squad. Unfortunately, he was also the grumpiest one. You first and most beloved. Death.

You looked him in the eyes with pleading.

„D, can we have a house party? Please, please. I’m so bored, I’m gonna climb up walls!”

The Pale Rider bookmarked his page, closed the ancient yellowed tome - and sighed.

„It’s not like I can deny you now, can I?” he said wryly. But the corner of his mouth was twitching, and that flame in his eyes was kind. „Although this is going to put this whole household in a state of disarray.”

„Well, War’s armour pieces already fill the bathtub...and Strife likes to frisbee used dishes into the sink. So you mean, like in more disarray than it already is?” You gave him a shit-eating grin.

Death chuckled. „Good point. Though I have objections. What exactly do you mean by lots of people?”

You calmed down and started to count on your fingers.

„Oh, nothing too excessive. Just a bunch of friends. Like Ulthane and some of his Makers and some angels, I mean, Uriel and Usiel would both be down for it, and maybe Vulgrim…

„Vulgrim steals everything that isn’t riveted to the ground”, said Death dryly.

You giggled.

„Yeah, I reckon. But what exactly can he snatch from our crib that would be worthy enough to fund that soul habit of his? Spoons?”

„Oh, you'd be surprised.”

„Okay, then maybe not him. But Fury, Strife, you both should totally bring your human friends from Haven, too! I’d love to meet them.”

Fury nodded absentmindedly.

„My friends...from Haven?” Repeated the gunslinger in a weird voice.

„Yeah!” You were too preoccupied with your trail of thought to think much about Strife’s suddenly tightened expression.

He went still for a while, then shrugged.

„Your wish is my command.”

„Cool! Oh, this is gonna be fun. I bet Azrael was never to a proper barbecue before...”

„Wait.” Death lifted one hand. „What are you saying? Azrael? The Makers? I have nothing against them, but they would never fit inside this house.”

He was right. You and the Four bought this derelict estate, tore it down and then rebuilt to fit their proportions. Especially to War’s, who never felt at ease in human-sized interiors, what with all his bulk. But the magical Scots people were another case entirely. Same went for Azrael’s nonsensical display of poshness, which was his damn wings.

You grinned and slapped your forehead.

„They won’t...but they'll fit into our yard. Let’s make this a garden party, people! The nights are way too hot to sit inside anyway. War, do you have any additions to the guest list?”

„As long as there’s food, I don’t care”, stated your beloved lug of a man and went back to napping.

„Strife?”

„Lemme see...Make sure to invite Jack Daniels”, quipped Strife and chortled.

You couldn’t help but smile either.

„I am going to regret this”, stated Death stoically. „But so be it.”

[blueyedxmoness]

I’m Alive! And Into Darksiders... Again.

(( Hello! Its me after... forever of not saying or doing anything! I admit I’ve been on an rp slump tumblr wise and have been content in just reblogging things every once in a while. I know I don’t have many people who wanna rp with me anyway, but I feel bad for not saying something about what the hell I’ve been doing. Currently its redoing Darksiders fan fiction for the... fourth time, but with the third game coming out I’ve been really back into it with better ideas and more fleshed out story writing. 

I’ve actually made an outline of the entire thing for the most part already! And part of me is wondering if maybe I should post a chapter or two on tumblr when I finally finish them? I was thinking of just putting them on AO3, but I’m feeling a little brave and wanting to put it out on tumblr to see if I can get any feedback. 

Anyway, if you are interested in reading it, like and reblog this post! Or just put in a comment to let me know your thoughts =0 ))

[blueyemxn]

Soooo I may have gotten into my Darksiders binge once more since the new game Darksiders Genesis came out and I’ve been playing it non-stop >w>;;;; I’ll get back to rping with Nua soon! Eventually!

Until then, if there are any darksiders fans who wanna squeal about lore and stuff hmu ;D 

[magerightsyeah]

Going Darkside

They left me. They fucking left me. I felt my rage bubbling over. It was all bullshit, all of it. I never tried to make people like me, I never cared, but they left me. All alone. They never liked me. They never cared about me. Worik, Yubel, Angie, all fucking liars. How could they do this? Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to start. Where I should’ve started, was the Battle of Adamant - 24 hours earlier.

I was on a team with three other people, Simon, Rowan, and The Iron Bull. Everything was going great, we finished off the demon that we were supposed to kill.  A little while later,  then the second team came in… and that was where it all went wrong. A dragon appeared, an honest-to-the-Maker dragon. Clarel, the Warden Commander, just barely managed to throw it off, but in the process destroyed the bridge some of the Inquisition (and your’s truly) was standing on. Everything happened so fast, I don’t totally know what happened, but I remember falling then… the Fade. We were actually physically in the Fade. Long story short - some shit happened, we lost some good people, but we got out. But then again, if we got out, how’d I manage to get left behind? Well that is a funny story.

Basically what happened was, well, I was pushed. I was looking over the edge of a wall at Adamant just as we were preparing to leave and bam, now I’m falling. I didn’t even see the bastard’s face, I just felt their hands pushing me and I fell. I managed to cast a force-field around myself just in time, but that only worked to soften my fall, not to negate the effect all together.

I lay there for 20 hours, bleeding and broken, waiting for salvation. But none came. No one came to find me, no one even looked for me. Eventually, I was fed up. I let my anger fuel my magic. “Few things are more powerful than the rage of betrayal” as my old mentor used to say... crazy old bat. She wasn’t wrong on this though. I felt unimaginable agony as my bones snapped back together and the sinew braided itself whole again. My magic was repairing my body cell by cell. I sat up as the hole in the back of my skull finished piecing itself back together again. Fine. If the Inquisition couldn’t appreciate me, I’d find someone else who would. And I knew just where to start.

Not all of Corypheus’s forces had been slaughtered, a few of his loyal followers quietly exited through secret passages which they assumed were unknown to Inquisition forces. Unfortunately that was not so. Just a while behind the forces, followed a group of three Inquisition spies. This was too easy.

“Hello there.” The scouts turned to my voice. Although I was wearing an Inquisition uniform, which seemed to comfort them a little, I could tell by their faces me being a qunari was making them uncomfortable. “Look fellas, I’m really sorry to have to do this, but I really can’t have you reporting to the Inquisitor anymore.” They looked confused for a moment, but once I snapped my fingers and a flame ignited in my hand, they got the message. Two of the spies drew their daggers, whereas one tried to run. Such a shame he had to die first. He died screaming as my white hot fire seared his flesh until he was nothing but blackened bone. The first spy came at me from the front, a stupid mistake really. How Leliana ever approved of these amateurs was completely lost on me. I grabbed his wrist as he lunged for my neck, swiftly snapping it in one quick move. He screamed in agony as I pressed my palm against his forehead and burned his brain from the inside out. A new trick? Cool. The second spy was smarter. While I was busy with my new trick, he came from behind and aimed for my head. A second, that’s all it takes, a second of hesitation and then it’s over. When his comrade collapsed on the ground with a blank expression on his face and his eyes little more than dust coating the sockets, that was the second. I took my chance. I grabbed him by the sides of his head and smashed his face into my knee. It wasn’t nearly as clean as good old fashioned incineration, but it did make a delightful squishing sound. I made a mental note that I’d have to kill people physically more often, it really took me back to my younger days under the Qun when I skinned my brothers alive, those were the good old days. I looked down at my uniform, it was very much not inconspicuous. I took the dagger from the still clenched hands of the eyeless spy, that has a good ring to it doesn’t it? Sorry what was I saying? Oh right, I took the knife from Eyeless Spy over there, and proceeded to carve the Inquisition symbol out of my chest. I nicked myself a few times, in hindsight I could’ve just taken off my shirt, but what’d be fun about that? Eventually, I just had a large hole in my uniform, so I decided to throw caution out the window and turned my top into little more than a breast band. It was the desert, it’s not like I’d get cold. I looked back on my mini-massacre. I wasn’t sure Corypheus would let me join him purely on good faith, I’d need something as a show of my allegiance. The man I’d killed with my knee was mangled beyond recognition, so I figured he wouldn’t be a good candidate. Eyeless Spy however, not only was he intact enough to verify he was in fact an Inquisition agent, but also it’d be a fantastic demonstration of my abilities. I grinned this plan was perfect. Or well, no it wasn’t, because I’d have to carry around a dead body for Maker knows how long, I just hoped Corypheus’s base was close.

It was not close. After a few days I started to notice the corpse rotting, so I used my rudimentary understanding of ice magic to freeze it, praying it was enough. Before long I reached the camp. It was in the Emerald Grave of all places. I don’t know why that struck me as odd, probably because I expected their base to be in a barren wasteland, not a tropical paradise. Either way, I wasn’t complaining. The camp was surrounded by Red Templars, those things gave me the heebie jeebies. I sucked in my breath as I approached the guard at the front of the camp. Immediately he drew his sword. I quickly raised my hands in a sign of goodwill, despite the fact every cell was screaming at me to burn this man alive.

“What do you want?” The guard’s voice was gruff and distorted, as if he had a rock lodged in his throat, which he might’ve now that I think about it….

“I seek a audience with Commander Samson.” I sounded very important, I almost sounded like an actual adult. It was weird.

The guard looked at me skeptically. “No one gets an audience with the Commander.” I snapped my fingers and the dead spy immediately defrosted. The guard’s eyes widened. “Can he make an exception?”

The guard glared at me, “We’ll be watching you.”

“I expect no less.” I winked at him as I re-froze my specimen, then strutted through the camp towards the large crimson tent. Another guard stopped me at the door, but with a nod from the guard at the entrance to the camp, he allowed me entrance, and to be allowed to gaze upon the esteemed Commander.

He was ugly. Simply put, he was just ugly. His face was too long, his eyes were too big, and his nose was too long. He had nothing on the Inquisition’s own Commander, and I liked him already.

“Commander Samson.” I addressed him, my hands behind my back like a proper adult.

He looked up at me, a wild look in his eyes, “What? Who’re you?”

I smiled, “My name is Hissera Katari, I’m was with the Inqui-” Before I could finish my sentence, Samson had drawn his sword and was pointing the tip at my throat. I liked this man more and more.

“Was, Commander, was,” I smiled “I have, defected, so to speak, and as a show of good faith, I bring you proof of my allegiance.” I snapped my fingers and the corpse was on its feet, a thin layer of frost coating it’s entire body. With another click, the Eyeless Spy was defrosted and a wicked smile spread across Samson’s lips.

“This will do quite nicely Ms.Katari, this will do quite nicely indeed”

[askflabightduarte]

Reveng of Flabight

[growningupgeek]

Cross that Line(The Darkside-Part 2)

Word Count-901

Characters-Sam, Dean, Reader, Lucifer/Vince, Astra, Castiel

Warnings-Kidnapping, angst, broken Sam

Summary-Possessed and kidnapped by Lucifer, the reader makes a discovery as to why he wants her so badly.

A/N-Part 2 of 3 or maybe 4.  

The Darkside     Series Masterpost

     They had locked you in a windowless room, you had no clue where you were or how long you had been there. Astra had kept you locked in a prison in your mind until she’d smoked out leaving you here alone.  Meals were brought to you at random intervals, you ate them knowing you had to keep up your strength.  Lights were the same, going on and off randomly,  giving you no way to tell if it was day or night.  When they went out you slept; when they were on you did what you could for exercise.

     Astra was the one you saw the most often.  Now she wore one of Vincente’s assistants, a pretty blond girl who now often bore the marks of Vince’s attention.  Lucifer had only been to see you twice; both times he said very little only watching you with a smug little smirk on his thin lips, like he knew a secret that you didn’t.  The only thing you were sure of was that because of them the Winchesters wouldn’t be looking for you.  Astra had let you be awake as a passenger in your own mind to watch her break Sam’s heart.  

     The image of Sam in the standing in the door of the motel room was burned into your mind.  The two of you had been through a lot but you’d never seen him look so broken, it killed you to see that picture in your mind.  His hair covering his face, the slump of his shoulders conveying his defeat.  Astra had hurt him using you and now he would forget about you eventually moving along with his life.

     When you started feeling like hell you chalked it up to crappy food and never seeing the sun.  Gradually you realized that it was something else.  When you counted the days before you’d been taken the answer you came up with told you exactly why Lucifer wanted you.  You went into panic mode and started praying to Cas and Chuck hoping that one of them was listening.

 WINCHESTER’S

      Dean watched Sam surf the web looking for another case.  It had been one case after another for almost six weeks now, since the day Y/N had left. Whatever had happened between them had broken something in Sam and he was trying to bury it, or himself, by working constantly.  At the moment they seemed to have run out of cases, a small thing that was making Dean very happy.  He grabbed his keys off the table near Sam, drawing the younger man’s attention from his computer.

     “Take a break and come have a drink with me, Sammy,”  he cajoled reaching for his jacket.  “We could use a night off, stop looking for a case.”

     Sam shook his head and mumbled, “ ‘M not looking for a case.  Got to find her.”

     Dean sighed, “Dude, it’s been over a month.  You know if she doesn’t want to be found you aren’t going to find her.”

     Sam looked up from his computer, eyes rimmed with red from lack of sleep and staring at the computer screen.  Dean felt his heart crack just a little more as he looked at his little brother’s face, but a small surge of hope when he reached for his own jacket.  The surge was short lived when Sam pulled a cell phone in a clear plastic bag out of the pocket that Dean recognized immediately as hers.  

     “I found that in the last vic’s effects on the last case,” he said handing Dean the bag. “The case before that, I found the necklace I gave her for Christmas.  Two cases ago, the ring she always wore.”

    Dean looked through the plastic noticing that the phone was covered in a fine yellow powder that he’d know anywhere as Sam continued, “They were all covered in sulphur.  I’m trying to find Y/N,-”

     “Sam, Dean,” Cas appeared in a flutter of wings. “What is Y/N doing in Los Angeles without you?”

 READER

     You were praying every chance you got, although you’d just about given up hope that anyone besides Lucifer could hear you.  You figured out they knew when meals started appearing at more regular intervals and the lights would go out for eight hours at a time instead of randomly.  Shortly after breakfast one morning, Lucifer came to visit.  You stood defiantly in front of him almost daring him to hurt you.

     “Dear, sweet Y/N, why would I hurt you” he asked.  “After all, you’ve got something I want.  And you will give it to me.”

     You glared at the fallen angel, still clinging to hope, “Never gonna happen, Luci.”

     His face darkened at your casual nickname and he covered the distance between you in a couple of strides of his vessel’s long legs.  He grabbed your chin hard enough to leave bruises, forcing you to look him in the eye, “Don’t bet on it, girl.”

     “I’ll kill us both first,” your eyes never wavered from his.

     The stare down continued for a couple of minutes before he released you with a small push that sent you stumbling backwards to the bed.  With a huff he stalked out of the room.  When he was gone you curled up into a ball wrapping your arms around your stomach.  Silently, you promised your baby that Lucifer would never have him.

The usual suspects- @darkcastersruletheworld​ @black-shad0w-w0lf​ @imagine-that-supernatural​ @ladysaraharper​ @thedepthsoffandomminds​ @kbrand0​ @soaringeag1e​ @supernaturalismalife​ @iwantthedean​ @jojomonsterbunni​ @little-red-83​ @growleytria​ @ashleymalfoy​ @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​ @halespecterwinchester​ @driverpicksthemuusic​ @isometimeswritesomethings​ @whyisleepacesoamazing​ @mist-and-echoes​ @sassysupernaturalsweetheart​ @kaylas-obsessions​ @aerisawriting​ @letsgetoutalive​ @divinitycas @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @jodyri​ @soab1967​ @busybee612​ @appleschloss​ @kazchester-fanfiction​ @oriona75​ @screeching-pterodactyl-fangirl​ @deandoesthingstome​ @littlegreenplasticsoldier​ @sammy-moo​ @for-the-love-of-dean​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @kittenofdoomage​ @sandlee44​ @apeshit7x​ @purgatoan​ @fast-times-in-the-impala​ @wereallbrokenangels​ @wonderless-screwup​ @dontsassmecastiel​ @cherrie-liquor​ @deascheck​ @mrssamfuckingwinchester​ @winchesterprincessbride​ @tjforston​ @babi-correia​ @helixiaray​ @writingthingsisdifficult​ @mysaintsasinner​ @mogaruke​ @wheresthekillswitch​ @skybinx-blog​ @bohowitch @hexparker @enthusiasmisdepressing @jensen-jarpad @maggster2006