#raven the nephilim

[raven-the-nephalem]

via @muriel-not-the-dim-one

Hi Raven,

Oh, you can't BELIEVE some of the stories. They are so clever, as Mr. Crowley says. Many, many stories. I'm enjoying them a lot.

AO3 is the place the humans keep their writings.

They call it a "safe space". Some have encouraged me to put my journals there for safekeeping. I think I eventually will.

I know you are so busy helping others, and keeping the humans safe. I will write my dream down in my journal. That way I can share it with you sometime. It's kind of a strange, scary dream at times, also confusing. But it's ok, it was only a dream. 😴

Thank you for telling Mr. Crowley I miss him. I can't wait until he comes to visit. It's lonely, even in the bookstore. Nina and Maggie are very nice, Mr. Brown drops by (I think he's looking for Mr. Fell). 😊

Everyone on Whickber Street is very kind.

Recently I've started having a cuppate with Mrs. Sandwich most every afternoon before "her girls" come to work. They must have a lot of things to get done before morning because they are busy all night. 🌖

Until we speak again Raven 🐦‍⬛, bye-bye.

🪽 🪽 🪽

What do the humans write about in Ao3?

Well, I have been busy, but not as such with the humans. I’ve been checking in on Crowley to make sure he’s alright. He’s still struggling with Aziraphale’s absence. He debated on sleeping until … who really knows? But I convinced him to not do that because there are beings who care about him and are concerned about him. He does want to see you, but visiting the bookshop would be too much for him right now. He doesn’t think Aziraphale is coming back. I disagree.

As I said before, I am both Heaven and Hell. I can feel them. I can talk to God. I can talk to Satan. I can talk to anyone I want to talk to.

This dream you had — is it the same one? Do you keep having it?

Nina and Maggie are very lovely. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Brown, but I’ve seen him linger around the bookshop often enough that I’ve been keeping tabs on him.

I met Mrs. Sandwich once. She’s a nice lady.

[ravenamethyst]

"Ich erinnere mich noch, als ich dir das erste Mal gestanden hab, dass ich auch etwas für dich empfinde. Als wir uns das erste Mal geküsst haben. Als ich dir gesagt habe, dass ich dich liebe. Als ich zum ersten Mal mit dir eingeschlafen bin. Und wir wieder gemeinsam aufgewacht sind.

-holt tief Luft und spürt ein nervöses Kribbeln- Raven, willst du mit mir zusammen sein? Willst du… mit mir gehen?

Ich verspreche dir auch, für immer für dich da zu sein. Und lieben tue ich dich sowieso jederzeit und von ganzem Herzen. Ich kenne keine Person, bei der ich mich so wohl, so angekommen fühle. Es kommt mir oft vor, als wären wir schon ewig zusammen oder würden uns ewig kennen. Du bist mein Anker und mein Feuerwerk zugleich. Deshalb… Was sagst du?" - Louis to Raven and he said yes. ♥

[art-story-by-deroko]

At the beginning of AoEx series Rin asked Mephisto if all exorcists can shape shift the same way Mephisto can (obviously no)

But at some point Mephisto decided the time to teach Rin transform like that has come because he is a strong and capable Nephilim

Rin chose a form of a mischievous raven and uses it to his full advantage.

He is really careful to use this method, trying to keep it a secret so he can use it as a disguise to eavesdrop, spy or listen on closed meetings without being noticed (I imagine it would be during times when True Cross order was still looking for the remaining traitors and Lucifer's spies (cough-Jeremiah-cough). Even Yukio and Bon was left uninformed about it for a long time.

Mephisto even has a bird perch for raven-spy-Rin in his office just in case ✨💜

[samdeancass]

Soft and Slow (Alternate Version)

Requested by @claymoresofinfamy23

Pairing: Jack Kline x fem!reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Characters: Jack, Y/N

Description: Jack is still new to having sex so Y/N takes it nice and slow with him.

A soft feeling warmed your chest, and a smile erupted on your face as you saw Jack sitting at the table in the library, the warm hue of the wall lamps accentuating his facial features. He looked so relaxed, so carefree, which was a huge relief after all he'd had to endure. You walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"How's my favourite nephilim today?" Jack turned in your arms and tilted his head. "I'm the only Nephilim in the world, so, of course, I'm your favourite." Chuckling at his comment, you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His lips connected with yours immediately, coming together in a loving bliss. Jack slowly stood as your lips stayed locked together, his hands running up and down your slender frame, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your hands found their way to his hair, yours and his lips moving together in a familiar motion. Soft moans escaped him as your hands travelled down his body but stopped at the hem of his pants. "Shall we move this to the bedroom?" Jack nodded, and you took his hand, guiding him toward your shared room. Closing the door, you and Jack connected again, kisses more desperate and ravenous. You pushed him onto the bed, his body bouncing roughly off the mattress.

You crawled on top of him, hands finding their way underneath his top and exploring his bare skin. You could feel the bulge in his pants digging into your thigh and smirked. "Does it really feel that good, angel?" He purred at the nickname you had given him. Your hand disappeared into his pants and underneath his boxers. Jack hissed at the longed connection of your hand with his dick. "Yes, feels so good." Your hand began to stroke him, moving slowly as the most beautiful sounds came from Jack. You could feel the wetness begin to pool in your underwear as his sounds sent shivers straight to your cunt, and the mere sight of Jack getting off on your touch alone.

You pulled his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free as you licked your lips with excitement. Kneeling, you took Jack in your mouth, licking the pre-cum from his tip that had begun to seep out. You were slow at first, letting Jack become used to the sensation, but once Jack entangled his fingers in your hair, you knew he was ready for more. Hollowing out your throat, you took all of Jack, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You licked around his tip before resuming your movements from before, bobbing up and down at a furious pace. You felt Jack's dick twitch in your mouth, and you tasted sweetness as his seed filled your mouth as delicious sounds escaped Jack. 

His eyes were laser-focused on you now as you stood up and slowly removed your clothing before crawling on top of him, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. "Are you sure? We don't have to." Jack cupped your cheek and gave a soft smile. "I've never been more sure of anything." You reached between the both of you and gently grabbed his dick, guiding it towards your entrance. You sank yourself in him, using your juices as a lubricant, as his girth completely stretched you out, moans and hisses filling the once-silent room. Slowly, you began to ride him and smiled as his eyes fluttered closed and little whimpers escaped his lips. "That feel good, baby?" He smiled and nodded.

"The best feeling I have ever felt, beautiful." You began to move faster as you both became lost entirely with each other. His hands reached out for you and pulled you to his chest as a new confidence overcame him. Your moans became louder and more guttural as his dick sank deeper inside you, hitting your G-spot over and over. "Yes, Jack! Right there, baby!" He felt pride in his chest before tangling one hand in your hair and pulling slightly, sending shockwaves through your body. "I'm gonna cum, Jack. I'm so close, angel." Something took over him at that point, and he began pounding into you, using his angelic endurance to his advantage. Your lips found each other, kissing every inch of the other's face. You could feel the familiar warm feeling building up in the pit of your stomach, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. You reached between the two of you and began rubbing circles on your clit, your moans becoming more needy as you came closer to your release. You knew Jack was close as his eyes had shut again, with his breathing becoming more ragged. "I want you to cum with me, Jack." You took one of his hands and placed it on his balls, massaging them over his hand. He took charge and kept on going himself. The room was filled with humidity, moans, and pure love as you finished with each other, spilling out onto the bed covers.

You looked up at him and noticed he was staring at you with pure love and adoration in his eyes. "That was amazing. Thank you, my love." He leaned down and kissed your lips sweetly, his hand coming to cup your cheek. "You never need to thank me for that, Jack. It was for both of us." You slowly got off and lay down beside him before Jack gathered you in his arms. He pressed sweet kisses to your head and held you to his chest as you lay like that for the rest of the night, content with the other's company. 

Supernatural Tags:

@bxoken-heartss @desimarie12 @deascheck

[arachnidweb]

♰ Goth Bands You May Like ♰

Tones on tail

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Virginia prunes

Raven adore

Earth calling Angela

The Blackwall

The Scary b¡tches

Ex-voto

Alien s3x feind

Corpus delecti

London after midnight (personal fave)

Christian death (personal fave)

Nosferatu

Love and rockets

Bone orchard

Skeletal family

Clan of xymox

Fields of nephilim

Die laughing

Paralysed age

Eyes of the nightmare jungle

The kenutcky vampires

The damned

Sisters of mercy

Fear cult (personal fave)

The frozen autumn

45 grave

The Desire

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Dead Born Babies

Shadow Image

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The Mescaline Babies

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Play dead

Virgin In Veil

Shadow assembly

13 candles

christ vs warhol

[darkdemeter]

READER AND DEATH "BEING PARENTS" FOR 1.3K WORDS

Death x (GN/)Female Reader

Uhm what do I say about this piece? Idfk. Figured I should stop writing it where it was before it got outta hand. Teacher this is my assignment. (Dunno if I'm gonna continue writing this idea or delete it and watch it burn in a dumpster fire while I sip coffee).

WARNINGS...?

AAAAAAHAHAHA! I intended it to be a cute, fluffy and funny drabble thing but I don't even know at this point.

“No.”

“Yes,” Death answers simply. 

You heave up with a grunt, the weight shocking you given how Fury is the size of a toddler, her features shrunken except the eyes that remain as large, milky white orbs. Her lips screw into something of a pout. You see her fiery temper is trapped inside her tinier body. Placing her down and gasping, you reach for Strife who’s hands clench and open, a grumbling whine escaping him.

 No way this happened. 

“How?” you ask, mouth agape and contorted into a troubled, confused frown. “Strife, say something! Anything!” He only babbles something between an infant’s prattle and some otherworldly language. Your features smoothen out into an unamused purse of your lips. Your eyes fixate on Death who harbours the third of his siblings, who for a raging machine of pain and chaos, is surprisingly subdued while sat atop the eldest Horseman’s shoulders, hands clasping ahold of Death’s raven locks. 

As it turns out, Vulgrim the Soul Eater possesses a variety of interesting artefacts. Death’s account is that said powerful manifestation which the Horsemen were tasked in retrieving for the demon trader, the gem had combusted after misuse and his three younger siblings were incidentally turned into… Well, babies. 

You set Strife back to ground level, your mind too far gone into a spiral to notice the pitter-patter of footprints rush off. Death bends down to do the same for War. “I thought you would have some clue as to what to do with them, since humans have a child-rearing nature.”

“Me? You’re older than me by millions of years. Really you’d have a better idea!” you hiss back, tempting fate as you jab a finger at the pale rider’s chest. 

Death’s comeback comes as a sharpened growl, “I never sired any offspring!”

Unsure whether the flush that invades your system belongs to your bafflement to such a confession, or that fact that you teeter to-and-fro on the fine line between a school girl crush and pure hearted love for the rider before you. 

With a defeated huff, you turn on your heel and Death steps forward, his arm just barely grazing against yours as you both now set your attention to the other three riders who now have free roam of your home. 

“Do we know how long it’ll last?” you ask the eldest nephilim as you scratch at the back of your head. He gives a low and long sigh, his shoulders falling and his posture pushing forward that little bit more, but continues to tower over you quite a bit. 

“I’m not sure…”

Before you is the second apocalypse in the making, with three little terrors to pin the crime on. The little rascals were tearing your lounge room apart by the minute and all you could do was watch, and all Death could do was obviously let your nurturing instincts take over. After all, he didn’t have children of his own back in his day. So of course it was a battle of shifting the responsibility onto each other as you both danced around, keeping the rambunctious three out of trouble and from destroying everything in their wake. 

“No Strife, you can’t eat that,” you scold firmly and endure a game of tug-of-war that you refuse to admit losing, with Strife even as the size of a toddler but the age of a year old baby, he is still overwhelmingly strong. 

“Are— all— Nephilim babies this— strong?” you heavily pant between each yank and stretch shared between you and Strife who laughs at your expense. You feel the muscles in your arms tire already but eventually you manage to snatch the stool from him, the legs marked with deeply embedded teeth marks. 

“Quite so.”

So there was some form of child rearing with their race. Death has never been that forward with the history of his people, and you didn’t feel it was your place to push. But it brought an interesting thought to the forefront.

Before the spike-haired nephilim can start a tantrum, you take Strife up and into your arms, his hands immediately seeking out to grab your hair. Meanwhile, Death holds a very temperamental Fury by the scruff of her neck, his amber eyes narrowed thinly as he rasps a curt, deep-noted, “No.”

Her small fists punch and swing no to avail, babbling something in a tongue you can barely comprehend and pure infant prattle. 

Death remains largely unphased as War thunders towards him in a short sprint, head and shoulders arched forward and rutting his head into his brother’s leg with a shrieking battle cry. With his other hand he does the same to War, holding the siblings that now enact their annoyance onto each other, what with the lack of Death’s engagement to their fight. 

You’re struggling to even balance upright with Strife attempting to crawl over your shoulder, his overbearing weight threatens to crush you where you stand. 

“Not so easy to deal with now, is he?”

“Shush, let me think.”

Death only chuckles in reply, the sound a crawling timbre you avoid paying any further attention to unless you wish to cave to your feelings right there and then. 

You tap a finger to your chin as you ponder the next several steps, in which Death sparingly sneaks glances of your focused gaze, you put Strife down and sternly tell him to stay put before moving away to some hidden portion of the house to come back with a something the pale nephilim can only assume to be a torture device. 

And he thought you were incapable of sheer cruelty up to this point. 

“I used to take care of puppy litters for friends. This,” you pause as you set up the makeshift area, “will keep them in one place.” 

Turning towards Death, you can only assume he’s raising a brow at the contraption. “A cage?”

“Sorta… it’s just somewhere we usually place pets – or misbehaving children!”

Your tone rises louder as you make direct eye contact with Fury and Strife, who attempt to fight one another, with War merely dangingling in Death’s grip. How he carries them with no sweat to his brow, you hardly understand. You chalk it up to his inhuman strength. 

Now to get the three into the playpen. Death was secure in his role, easily dropping War and Fury in with no problem. It’s you who suffered with Strife making a beeline out of the lounge. For a baby of superhuman strength, he also possessed his supernatural speed as well. 

And so, Death was treated to the sight of you chasing around an infant, his arms crossed over his chest and his head tilting every so often in the direction that followed you both. 

But his entertainment had to be brought to its conclusion, seeing that you’re faring unwell, he conducts his mannerism with a touch of sympathy and snatches Strife as he makes to sprint past. The young thing is spiteful for this betrayal, hissing like some beast cub and babbling again in that foreign tongue, Death casts Strife into the playpen with his siblings. 

“Took your sweet time, didn’t you?” you bitterly scowl with a glare, approaching the pen with waning breath. 

Death’s large shoulders move up into a shrug. “Think of it as a debt repaid for all the times we were chasing you around.”

Your bottom lip sinks inwards, your teeth biting down upon the lump of flesh. The amount of times you inherently wandered and ran off while under their care had indeed written a long overdue receipt. 

“Humans are curious and all that,” you mumble more to yourself as if it would serve as some form of justification but Death can only scoff at your so-called reasoning, no doubt rolling his eyes. 

“So what now?”

“I guess we have to wait it out.”

[devildomwriter]

Reacting to Your First Sonogram | Simeon x Reader

You looked around the light blue waiting room. The walls looked freshly painted and inside the small room were three other women, only one with a partner. They were all here for some fertility reason or another. But you were there because you already knew what was going on. You were pregnant and it was Simeon’s.

Everyone knew just by looking at the two of you what was going on and how you felt about it because beside you Simeon sat smiling brightly, squeezing your hand with intertwined fingers. He held the strap of a bag next to him.

He’d packed a bag as if you were there to give birth not to get a sonogram.

He’d already had you evaluated by a few of his celestial friends but he wanted you to be able to experience a more traditional pregnancy, hoping it would help avoid any stress of all the unknown about carrying an angel’s child.

All you knew about half-angel children you’d read in the Bible. The Bible described them as nephilim or giants, they were large, hard to kill, and had such ravenous appetites they’d eat other humans. Supposedly they were also one of the reasons for the flood—to wipe them out.

That hadn’t entirely worked because you were still here despite your angel DNA.

Simeon had found your research on the matter and quickly assured you since your child was allowed to be conceived and carried, that the Bible wasn’t a good reference for what they’d become. What that meant is you truly knew absolutely nothing about angel children.

You knew Simeon wanted things to feel normal, but you worried about what a nurse would say if the sonogram registered the child as being different—as it was.

The door latch clicked and a nurse dressed in teal entered the room and called yours’ and Simeon’s names.

Simeon got to his feet, smiling brightly. He tugged your hand slightly and you stood up slowly—your back was already giving you issues somehow—and followed him as he trailed after the nurse.

The nurse got you situated in the room and stepped out for a few minutes so you could change into the paper gown.

“It’s made of paper?” Simeon asked trying to determine how the paper in his hands was supposed to be a gown.

“Not always, I guess I get paper.”

Simeon continued to eye the gown disapprovingly.

“I know that this sonogram is mildly invasive but I don’t see why you should wear something that exposes you completely.”

You agreed and the nurse came back in when Simeon stepped out to ask for an exception. You were told it wasn’t necessary just easier and decided to forgo the paper outfit.

Simeon blushed as he tucked the paper gown away.

“What’s wrong, Simmy?”

He blushed again at the nickname and awkwardly confessed “I just felt it showed a little too much. I know the kind woman is a professional doctor but she’s only checking your womb, not the rest of your body.”

You laughed as you thought he was acting cutely. You gestured for him to come closer and hugged him tightly as the doctor walked in and introduced herself.

She didn’t question why you didn’t have a gown on and just instructed you to lie back.

Simeon squeezed your hand and sat next to you as the doctor began explaining the process to you and lifted your shirt up to apply the gel.

“How far along?” She asked and Simeon beamed and answered excitedly.

“Almost seven weeks.”

Simeon did his best to appear calm and collected as he always did but you could tell he was doing cartwheels on the inside.

The two of you had been blessed for your union and procreation to be allowed by the celestial realm—thus allowing Simeon to stay an angel—and now you were getting to experience starting a family.

As an angel, Simeon always saw this as unneeded and out of reach as angels didn’t need to procreate and fall in love, but when that fell through thanks to you, he began to dream of a family and it was finally coming true.

The woman smiled and directed your attention to the screen, pointing at a faint flicker.

“That’s the heartbeat,” she announced.

She shifted the transducer to get a better image of it.

You looked at Simeon and saw his eyes watering. He held your hand now with both of his and raised it to his lips to kiss.

The doctor left the room, the picture of the baby frozen on the monitor.

“Our child….” Simeon said in awe. You were so happy to see his excitement, that the picture of the baby wasn’t what you were staring at, it was his angelic grin.

“You know…as an angel I should know better than anyone and yet…I never knew…not until now,” he said slowly, eyes transfixed on the picture of his child, “just how truly precious the miracle of life is…it really is just that…a miracle…isn’t it?” He looked at you and you nodded, smiling.

You still hadn’t a single clue how birthing and raising an angel would go, but you knew you’d be in good hands no matter what. After all, with an angel as both your partner and child’s father, life was heavenly.

[xaz-fr]

The Manor, a cult and a brothel

This lore has some adult themes in this cult that including sex, drugs, manipulation and is pretty problematic as a whole. This is some adult lore. Please read at your own digression.

more WBW this time about The Manor. A stately Southern Plantation style manor deep in the woods surrounded by swamp that seems to rise up out of the mists after long hot days. It's here that the Master lives with his little 'sex cult', or that's what the members of Cypress Hall call them. The Manor also acts as a den of sin, for gambling and as a brothel, but also hosts one of the best shows in the community.

The Master (above) is the head of the Manor. An older Skydancer who's all grace and charm has seen him out of many sticky situations. No one knows where he came from or what his real name is. He simply is the Master and all who live in the Manor follow him. Some more unerringly than others. He's a powerful magic user and very rich.

Axich is the Master's current 'favorite'. A deeply jealous young Skydancer who constantly needs attention and validation. He has a terrible personality but he's very pretty so is basically allowed to get away with whatever he wants. He isn't cruel but he is a brat. He often gets into fights with Nep about extremely stupid things. He's the Master's personal arm candy and bed warmer and apparently is... quite talented :o

Nephilim and Reivyn (said raven) are a couple. Neph is the 'former' favorite of the Master but if you ask Neph he's never not been the favorite. He just doesn't fuck the Master much anymore. He's a thief who got caught by the Master and got bent to his will to work for the Master as a dancer and concubine. He hasn't been a concubine in many years now but he still dances during shows, both private and public. Rei is a card shark and plays music and sings in the in house band. He's incredibly good and is both a great cheat and a liar. The only thing he seems to really enjoy is Neph and their children and getting drunk while gambling. Somehow he's better at cards when he's drunk. The Master hates him so fucking much but he's useful so he's allowed to stick around.

Silky is the Master's librarian. He's got a magical skin condition that makes his flesh almost see-through. The Master finds him a delight but Silky is quite... shy about it. He's one of the Master's private use members of the cult. Silky is pretty brain washed by the Master who keeps promising to look for a cure for his condition but it's been years with nothing to show for it. He's very soft spoken and shy so is rarely seen and thus others don't know how easily he's being manipulated or taken advantage of.

Tanduay also suffers a condition like Silky except she's been cursed by a witch. She isn't even sure why anymore? Se now is cursed to be partially smoke. The Master, like Silky, dangles the promise of breaking her curse over her head but it's been years with no progress. She's the Manor's cook and tends to all the needs of those who live here and the patrons. She has a daughter with the Master who's the light of her life but suffers the same curse as her. The Master seems more interested in studying their daughter than breaking either of their curses. Like Silky she is not for customer use but she does have sex with the Master sometimes. Less so since their daughter was born.

Fayne is the Master's high strung and incredibly loyal and competent butler. Big Alfred energy from this guy. You need something done you bring it to Fayne. He ensures the Manor runs smoothly and that the guests and 'merchandise' are having a good time. He's been with the Master forever, since he arrived. No one quite knows what hold the Master has over him as they don't sleep together and of anyone in the Manor Fayne is the one to tell the Master to fuck off the most. Fayne isn't for public use BUT it isn't uncommon for Sanya or Axich to see his stuffy sex negative self as a challenge and coheres him into sex with them. Usually publicly which is great for the sluts but an often embarrassing experience for Fayne himself wen he comes part of the show.

Sanya is the pearl of the Manor. The bell of the ball. She joined the cult because she saw hot guys were in it and wanted to bone down. And that's what se does. She's the most well known courtesan in the Manor and is quite popular demand. Unlike other members of the Manor the charms of the Master don't work on her. She'll fuck him if he asks but him being a charming cult leader just goes over her pretty cotton filled head. Despite being a courtesan for purchase she does have her own desires and preferences. She loves fooling around wit Tanduay because she's cute and watching the other Spiral just dissolve into smoke when flustered in peak for Sanya.

Zurina is the brood mother and costume designer for the Manor's players and prostitutes. She joined the cult because of Sanya but unlike her friend she drinks the swamp water about the Master. The Master is wonderful and perfect and can do no wrong. As you'd expect with a sex cult there are quite a few of the Master's children about and Zurina is the matron who looks after them when her time isn't bought by a patron but because she's quite cold to those outside the cult her services are rarely rendered.

The children of the Manor

Vernay, Tanvir and Azrael. Vernay is the eldest child of the Master as a preteen. Her mother is Tanduay and she helps her mother in the kitchens. The Master 'studies' her and her strange curse she shares with her mother but doesn't seem interested in breaking their curses. Tanvir and Azrael are the of the Master and Zurina. The Master wanted to see the affects of breed change scrolls on children and has been quite pleased with the results, even if Azrael is nearly as large as he is even as a baby.

Then there are the twins: Samael (boy) and Oriel (girl). The children of Neph and Rei via magical entwining. No one's quite... sure why they came out with different elemental eyes? Neph is an ice dragon and Rei a Shadow but the Manor exists within the domain of Light. There's been speculation that despite not being the Master's children he had some involvement in them being contrasting elements.

[celestialcrowley]

Hello, everybody!

This is a bit of a mash up post.

Life’s gotten super busy again! I’m back on that overtime at work as two people have jumped ship. It’s why I’ve been less active here.

Anyway, I’m still writing my fiction. It’s officially got a title — Memory Reboot — and it’s gonna be full of angst and fluff. To make it to the fluff, we must first survive the angst. I have a beta — @sad-chaos-goblin 💚

I’ve created an original character for Good Omens, and — after some thought — I’ve decided to make room for him in Memory Reboot. His name is Raven, and he’s a Nephilim — half angel, half demon. He’s been very fun to create.

I have also made a secondary blog for him because I thought I’d return to RP. It’s been quite some time since I’ve done it, so I’m probably a bit rusty, but I’ve found myself missing it.

Raven can be found at @raven-the-nephilim if anyone would like to interact with him. He is available for both original and existing characters.

Lastly — I can’t say this enough. Thank you, everyone, for your support and kindness and for making my return to tumblr a lovely experience! The Good Omens fandom is absolutely wonderful and truly has been a breath of fresh air. 💚

[bubblespalace]

The Accords (Reader Insert Ver)

CHAPTER 1

“Fuck it.”

You ran at the demon with full intensity, not a regard for your safety in mind. The demon growled like a dangerous bear, slashing at her with his sharp-clawed hand. You skillfully dodged quickly, adrenaline running through your veins while you fought hard and well. Your (h/c) hair whipped in your face as you slid underneath the monster's legs, tightening your grip on your powerful angel blade as you made a slash against the demon's inner thigh.

The creature wailed in agony, clutching its wound as the raven-black blood dripped to the ground, and the leaves and dirt sizzled as the substance made contact. It delivered a swift hit to your stomach, causing you to be knocked back into a tree.

As a Shadowhunter, you barely screamed. You groaned, winced, and gasped, but never screamed. There was something weak about it to you. You couldn't stand weakness, it was a bad quality for a Nephilim. You were a child of an angel, not some mortal like Vampires and Werewolves alike accused you of being. You glared at the demon with your piercing (E/C) eyes, you had disabled it enough. The cut on its leg was burning away like there was acid on it. 

All you had to do now was decapitate it and you could move on to her next mission.

You charged, like a bull who had just seen red. Your angel blade glowed a bright white, feeding off your own power. You twirled, your hair whipping at her face in the wind once again as you swung your blade at the demon's neck. You buried your blade into the skin of its neck and it howled, but not before it pierced your shoulder with its claws. You forced your blade through the remains of its neck, causing its ugly head to drop to the ground, the blood splashing up on your black dress. You gasped, feeling the pain in your shoulder. Quickly, you yanked the claw out of your shoulder. “Damn it.” You muttered regretfully.

You touched the wound gently, wincing when you saw it. It was deep, if it had gone through even an inch more, it would have been fully through your flesh and bone. Habitually, you reached for your stele to heal herself; but when you felt your empty pocket, you remembered you lost it in battle with a few Moloch demons back in New York. You cursed under your breath, knowing it was going to be very difficult to keep fighting like this. If only The Clave would let you take a break.

Maybe you could stop by the closest Shadowhunter Institute, they would have the supplies you needed to go on. However, it might get you into a bad place with The Clave. They wouldn't like you taking a break when there were so many more demons to kill.

You tried to stop yourself from focusing on the searing pain in your shoulder by busying yourself with reading the overview for your next mission. You scrolled through your texts from the Leaders of The Nephilim, only to find they were sending you back to her home country for a mission that would take some time.

Now you seldom felt emotions. In Shadowhunter training, they teach young children to never feel fear, dread, or even happiness. They want their young to become fighting machines as quickly as possible. A Shadowhunter's life is very hard. They are either always fighting for others, or trying to serve The Clave as well as they can. But when you saw you were going back home for two whole weeks, you were overcome with joy. You cracked a genuine smile, something you haven't done in a while now.

It made you almost forget about the pain in your shoulder. You touched it lightly again, still smiling. The woman decided she could go on, it wasn't as though the wound was fatal. You could heal mortally for once, it would be worth it to go back to (Y/C) again.

You walked through the forest, keeping your posture straight so you could fool humans into thinking you weren't injured. The Glamour Rune you put on yourself so you could be unseen must have worn out by now, and without the stele, you couldn't put another one on yourself. You trudged painfully to a gas station, looking for medical supplies and possibly a snack to hold you over for a while. You haven’t had the time to eat, or even sleep for almost a week since you have been so busy fighting and killing every demon you could. Your body was accustomed to not getting enough rest or food after so long going without either. 

Pulling on the door handle of the gas station, you stepped inside. Your black boots made a clicking noise as you walked across the tile floor and down the aisle, it drew the attention of a man in one of the food aisles.

He had straight, messy red hair like it hadn't been brushed in days. He didn't care very much about his appearance, You could tell from the state of his school uniform he was wearing, but it didn't put a damper on how attractive he was. The man had beautiful green eyes that were as shiny as emeralds, they seemed to bore into you with curiosity and, what she thought was slight attraction was enticing. The bone structure on this man was absolutely gorgeous. You had to stop yourself from staring at him, redirecting your attention to the minor medical supplies that were stocked on the shelves.

You grabbed a pack of bandages and a small bottle of disinfectant, holding them both in one hand as you paced to the small food section to grab something you could afford to buy. Shadowhunters out in the field only got a small amount of money to spend every month, it was supposed to be enough to pay for food every once in a while. Your allowance has always been a little less than everyone else's though. Since you were near the top of the best warriors they had, you were expected to not need such things as much.

When you pinched a pack of Instant Noodles in between your index and thumb, you heard the door to the bathroom open. A blonde girl wearing a pink top and brown shorts walked out and walked timidly to the red-haired man. They spoke, but you didn't understand much because although you could read very well, you couldn't speak Japanese. The red-haired man seemed almost hostile to the blonde though, through both speech and movements.

Maybe you should call this man out? He seems to treat her like she's his prisoner, and you've never been one to put up with men like that. However, this really isn't your business, maybe you should leave them alone?

Time to choose:

[raven-the-nephalem]

From your friendly neighborhood nephilim —

Do you wish to ask God questions, or do you wish to question Her?

One of those things is not like the other.

Crowley didn’t Fall because he had questions for God. He Fell because he openly questioned and disagreed with Her.

He didn’t deserve to Fall, but some things are better left unsaid.

[indigoinka]

Kenna being a clueless muffin

I probably won’t post about this story too much because it’s a Ream exclusive, but I love these characters already. Earth Render is MMMMF (not reverse harem, just a weird little polycule with various dynamics) and it’s set in the same universe as the rest of my paranormal fantasy stories.

This is a tiny excerpt from Taryn (vampire) and Kenna (his clueless and faithful vaewolf).

~~~

“It was after my mum died. I asked if there was anyone you loved, and you told me you loved me like a brother.”

“That was twenty years ago, Kenna. You think my feelings haven’t changed since then?”

My stomach flips as he moves closer. I just wish I could figure out what the hell he’s trying to tell me.

His hand lands on my shoulder, which feels… friendly? Then, he slides his palm over my skin, his gaze dropping to my chest, which is prickling with heat. His hand meets my neck, thumb rubbing over my Adam's apple, which feels a whole lot more intense, and my dick is getting on board with whatever this is before my brain is ready.

“I’ve always loved you, Kenna. And there is so much platonic love in there that I don’t know how to separate it from the things I want to do to you.” 👀

~~~

If you don't know, Ream is like a cross between Patreon (subscriber tiers) and Wattpad (social ereader) with added community functionality built in. The platform is very queer friendly and they don't censor spicy authors.

[ladyhindsight]

Did you know Amatis is Luke’s sister? If you didn’t, after this chapter you will.

The last chapter ended with Amatis being brought to be the first to drink from the Infernal Cup.

Thank you for reminding me. Didn’t I tell you to let go of my hand somewhere around chapter 19? (during the whole series more like)

→ Amatis looked up, her blue eyes so much like Luke’s, fastening on Clary.

I would allow this one if we weren’t told twice on the same page that Amatis is Luke’s sister.

The whole series has been Clary’s brother, Clary’s mother, Jocelyn’s daughter, Luke’s sister etc. Just use their names.

“The older woman” is in comparison to Clary because there are no others mentioned as of yet in the scene. As if Clary is a woman at all yet instead of a teenage girl.

→ Clary stared at her, willing the woman to look at her.

OH, SHE’S LUKE’S SISTER? I DIDN’T KNOW THAT EVEN THOUGH THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU HAPPENED TO MENTION IT.

→ …willing the woman to look at her. If things had gone as planned, she would have been Clary’s step-aunt now.

Because we know who Luke is to Clary, we know who Amatis is—that is just nonsense reminder and my HAND HURTS.

Also thanks for the recap. We read the scene. Also how couldn’t Clary realize it when Jace explicitly says it? (Chapter 18)

“Or, should I say, he did. That thing that looks like me but isn’t? He’ll burn down the world if Sebastian wants him to, and laugh while he’s doing it. That’s what you’re saving, Clary. That. Don’t you understand? I’d rather be dead—“

Don’t spoil the following action with these.

→ “Clary—,” Jace began. There was a cry...

Why are the werewolves attacking straight on but the Nephilim act like they are on an evening stroll? What kind of surprise attack is that?

I will strangle something.

This is Maia’s PoV, stop filtering.

→ A slender man had used a short-bladed dagger to whip the head off…

Simon is realizing great many things. These are observations he can make, you don’t need to justify them with these feeble justifications.

→ They were also faster than any Nephilim he has seen before.

Because we don’t need that information in between an action scene and especially not interrupting this sentence. Again, very reminiscent of Clary’s fight with the Ravener in CoB.

Additionally, I don’t think this is the place to prop Jace or Sebastian up.

Jocelyn never stood with Valentine but attended supremacist Circle ceremonies and dressed in a ceremonial dress.

Also on the fence about this.

→ Before Jocelyn could reply, blood burst from his mouth. (maybe)

→ also unintentionally comical.

OH MY GOD, STOP REMEMBERING THINGS.

→ Also no recognition that this is precisely what started this.

Before this there is this part:

“But that voice blurred into another, more recent one: Jace facing down Sebastian in the living room of Valentine’s apartment, telling her that he would rather die than live like this.”

And still there was the part before where it says Clary didn’t realize it? What even is consistency? At least in this chapter we are consistently reminded that Amatis is Luke’s sister.

→ What is looove, when truthfulness isn’t something any of these character are capable of most of the time?

→ The repetition for emphasis and dramatic effect doesn’t work.

→ His eyes blazed up the way they had…

That’s badass, stab him!!! So Jace apparently dies but doesn’t really, Alec helps Magnus to heal, the dark Nephilim scatter, and the battle ends. And it’s great solely for the fact that there is only the epilogue left.

[samdeancass]

Soft and Slow

Requested by @oakensheilded

Pairing: Jack Kline x male!reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Characters: Jack, Y/N

Description: Jack was still new to having sex, so Y/N takes it nice and slow with him.

A soft feeling warmed your chest, and a smile erupted on your face as you saw Jack sitting at the table in the library, the warm hue of the wall lamps accentuating his facial features. He looked so relaxed, so carefree, which was a huge relief after all he'd had to endure. You walked behind him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

"How's my favourite nephilim today?" Jack turned in your arms and tilted his head. "I'm the only Nephilim in the world, so, of course, I'm your favourite." Chuckling at his comment, you leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. His lips connected with yours immediately, coming together in a loving bliss. Jack slowly stood as your lips stayed locked together, his hands exploring your broad back. Your hands found their way to his hair, yours and his lips moving together in a familiar motion. Soft moans escaped him as your hands travelled down his body but stopped at the hem of his pants. "Shall we move this to the bedroom?" Jack nodded, and you took his hand, guiding him toward your shared room. Closing the door, you and Jack connected again, kisses more desperate and ravenous. You pushed him onto the bed, his body bouncing roughly off the mattress.

You crawled on top of him, hands finding their way underneath his top and exploring his bare skin. You could feel the bulge in his pants digging into your thigh and smirked. "Does it really feel that good, angel?" He purred at the nickname you had given him. Your hand disappeared into his pants and underneath his boxers. Jack hissed at the longed connection of your hand with his dick. "Yes, feels so good." Your hand began to stroke him, moving slowly as the most beautiful sounds came from Jack. You could feel yourself become hard at the mere sight of Jack getting off on your touch. 

You pulled his pants and boxers down, letting his cock spring free as you licked your lips with excitement. Kneeling, you took Jack in your mouth, licking the pre-cum from his tip that had begun to seep out. You were slow at first, letting Jack become used to the sensation, but once Jack entangled his fingers in your hair, you knew he was ready for more. Hollowing out your throat, you took all of Jack, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You licked around his tip before resuming your movements from before, bobbing up and down at a furious pace. You felt Jack's dick twitch in your mouth, and you tasted sweetness as his seed filled your mouth as delicious sounds escaped Jack. 

You removed your own pants before crawling on top of Jack, peppering his face with sweet kisses. "Are you sure? We don't have to." Jack cupped your cheek and gave a soft smile. "I've never been more sure of anything." You kissed Jack deeply as your tip entered his ass, hisses sounding from the both of you. "You're so tight, angel. You feel so good." You spat onto your hand and spread it along your cock to act as a lubricant. Slowly, you pushed inside him; the feeling of his tight hole around your cock was enough to have you cum right there. 

Jack looked at you and nodded, signalling for you to move. You began to thrust slowly, letting him get used to the movements. Entangling your fingers with his, you began to make love to him slowly and softly. Your lips found each other again, kissing every inch of the other's face. You could feel the familiar warm feeling building up in the pit of your stomach, and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. Letting go of one of his hands, you reached between the two of you and began to move your hand up and down his shaft to the same motion you were thrusting. His moans were getting louder the closer he got to his climax. His eyes fluttered closed as his dick twitched in your hand, his white seed squirting onto your chest. Your moans echoed around the room as you came, your white seed seeping out of his hole. You licked it up before gathering his seed on your fingers and swirled them around your mouth. "You taste so delicious, my angel."

You lay down next to him, gathering him into your arms. "That was amazing, Y/N. Thank you." Chuckling, you kissed his forehead. "You never need to thank me for doing that. It was for both of us." You lay there for the rest of the night, content with each other's company.

Supernatural Tags:

@akshi8278 @bxoken-heartss @desimarie12 @deascheck

[alexanderlightweight]

hi! I'm anon that recommended "x". hope you and saeth enjoy it <3

can you write follow up for prompt for writing wensday: what happens if alec got into alternative universe were he isn't exist yet, so magnus not know him. but magnus know that alec his when sees him and didn't want to give him back to his magnus?

thank you 💜

I'm stopping by the library today to see if they have the movies! so that will be fun ^_^ (the weekend was not as restful as planned so no movies lol)

some family unexpectedly moved nearby (when i say it was unplanned and fast it was very unplanned and fast) and so i've had three impromptu family reunions and @saeths and Nightshade and the house got to stay home.

thank you for the prompts and recs again!

i loved exploring this verse more so i hope you enjoy!

-

Magnus isn’t sure at first that he’ll be able to reach in and access his nephilim’s memories, but his magic is recognized in its core form and as long as he doesn’t pry too deep, it lets him in eagerly.

It’s a comfort to be so welcomed and adored by the entirety of another being and Magnus takes a shuddering breath as he touches his mind to another’s.

Alexander.

Is murmured in an echo of his own voice, again and again as Magnus imprints each image as eagerly as he can to his memory. His magic and mind aren’t the exact same and his nephilim — Alexander’s — soul has been touched too deeply by Magnus’ mirror soul that it will shy from Magnus’ own.

For a little while, at least. Until Magnus erases every trace of that other him from Alexander’s being.

There are a dozen memories that pass too quickly for Magnus to see for every memory he devours ravenously. So many intimate moments that Magnus is aching for, shifting by like sand instead of the priceless treasures they are.

Magnus gets as much as he can before he encounters a trace of magic, a curious but possessive entanglement that guards the rest of Alexander’s memories. Magnus doesn’t dare press harder, not when it doesn’t consider him a threat.

Not yet.

He untangles his mind from Alexander’s and groans when he realizes that Alexander curled himself around Magnus while they were dreaming. He’s pressed up against Magnus, a long cool line of muscle and runes that Magnus wants to defile.

He’s unbearably intimate, his arms holding just enough to embrace but not contain and his face nuzzles into Magnus’ neck. He’s sleeping deeply, a trusting softness to his face and Magnus remembers a glimpse of a blurred face.

 it’s with aching curiosity that he pushes alexander away and uses magic to clean up the uneven scruff. Alexander’s softer, younger underneath the stubble and Magnus cups his jaw and marvels at how his chin burrows into Magnus’ palm, as if this is a common ritual.

Magnus wonders if it was. If the memory was lost when they passed him by or is still behind the chains of another Magnus’ magic.

Magnus kisses the corner of a plush mouth and then he’s wrapping his arms around a strong, firm back as Alexander goes limp and lightly snoring across his chest, legs tangling with Magnus’ own.

Magnus doesn’t want to sleep, to miss a moment of this. He’s never quite had this, the feeling of trust and awe and adoration that is being imparted to him and it’s with the taste of hoarfrost on his tongue that he fights the call of sleep.

For all the restless and sleepless nights, tonight where he wants to remain awake, Magnus finds himself fading, cradled in a protective shield and knowing that Alexander is sleeping listening to the heartbeat that Magnus knows is the same.

He caught that memory and while Alexander slept, Magnus changed the temp of his own heartbeat, to ensure that it was one more thing to convince Alexander to stay.

It’s with the knowledge that his plans are well made that Magnus falls asleep, his hair changing to the strange, half shaved style streaked with white.

—

Magnus comes awake to hands running through his hair and he stiffens for a moment before the magical instinct he set up kicks in, he relaxes, burrowing into the body he’s recognizing as Alexander.

“You shouldn’t tease me so early in the morning, sweetheart.” Magnus murmurs and instead of

He’s met with confusion and a little bit of surprise and Magnus realizes that the gentle pettings and caresses aren’t meant to be foreplay, it’s just Alexander’s normal routine. It’s almost too much for Magnus to handle and he wraps an arm around Alexander’s waist and groans desperately. He has to keep this, no matter what.

“Magnus, are you okay?” Alexander’s voice is hoarser than the memories and he’s a little wary, as if scared of the answer.

“My memories are a bit scattered darling. An effect of what must have been dimension travel.” Magnus pretends to think through it and traces one of the stretch marks on Alexander’s thigh. His boy twitches under his touch, muscles tensing and then relaxing as he moves his leg, giving Magnus more skin to touch. Magnus marvels at the easy trust as runs his nails over the tender skin and runes carefully. “I know you, of course. But something must have knocked me around, the memories of this world’s self are making it hard, but I will never forget you, Alexander. Don’t ever think for a moment that I will.”

“How come I’m okay?” Alexander asks him, curious not upset as he runs his fingers over Magnus’ eyebrows and gently rubs at the hollow of Magnus’ eyes. Magnus’ unglamoured eyes, he realizes with a pang of shock, that Alexander is looking at his real eyes with love and adoration and no hint of surprise.

Like he’s so used to them, it would be more surprising for them to be glamoured.

“You haven’t been born in this world yet.” Magnus tells him, already sure of it. “You’re safe, as long as we can keep you anchored. Which is what I’m doing, I won’t let you go anywhere, Alexander.”

[imagine-darksiders]

Y/N convinces the Horsemen to join them to hang out with one of their best friends, Y/N and said friend are jokingly insulting each other and friend joking responds to an insult with "I'm gonna kill you" and the Horseman thinks they mean it literally.

I have got scenarios for Strife, but I'm really sorry, I lost motivation for his. It just wasn't feeling right, but I hope the other three Horsemen make up for it :)

War:

“If you take that last slice of pizza, I'm going to kill you,” is perhaps not the most intelligent thing for your dear friend, John, to say within ear-shot of your equally dear friend, War.

Your mouth opens to laugh as you lean away from the pizza box and raise your hands in surrender, acquiescing easily. Far be it from you to risk having your fingers bitten off by your ravenous friend. But just as John's fingertips dip into the box to seek out his prize, he's suddenly torn from his seat on the sofa with a startled yelp and hoisted over the back of it, his legs paddling uselessly at several feet of empty air.

“The HELL!?” he bleats as you frantically leap from your own seat and whirl around to find War standing rigidly behind you, his metal gauntlet fisted into the back of John's collar.

With an indignant squawk of, “War!” you dart around the sofa and snag a handful of the Horseman's blood-red cloak, heaving back on it with all your strength whilst he only draws a hapless John closer to his hood, snarling at your fellow human with sharpened canines and a ferocious scowl that knits his brows together.

“What is the meaning of this slight!?” War bellows, giving John a rough jostle, “You dare to threaten an ally of mine?”

The man in his immoveable grasp wheezes, digging his fingers beneath his top button in an attempt to keep it from pressing so ardently into his throat. “Wh-at're you... talking about!?” he rasps, beyond bewildered - a feeling you concur with wholeheartedly.

“War – dammit, War!” Giving up on the cloak, you instead throw your arms around the immense Horseman's elbow and give his appendage an almighty wrench, but even throwing your weight back doesn't budge him an inch. “Put him down!”

Stiffly, War's head creaks around to peer at you from the corner of one, ice-blue eye. Peeling his lips back, he seethes, “I will not stand idly by while a threat is made against my charge.”

You're under no illusions. Historically, if War perceives a threat, he'll pursue it with dogged ambition until he's close enough to put his broadsword straight through its chest. John is in grave danger right now, and although the Horseman might have something of a soft spot for you, you're by no means influential enough to keep him restrained if he wants to run someone through with Chaoseater.

All you can do is try to reason with him.

“Y/n-!” John manages to squeak out, but he's silenced by a sudden, vicious shake.

Thinking fast, you duck beneath War's outstretched arm to stand in front of him, drawing yourself up as high as you can and reaching out a hand, placing a warm palm against the Horseman's chiselled jaw.

The move is so foreign, so unexpected, that War's glare bursts open to a look of shock and he swivels his eyes down to the tiny fingertips resting near the hollow of his cheek.

Something small and tentative ignites in the Horseman's chest, so different from the sparks of rage circling his heart. Outwardly, he rushes to drop his glower back into place, levelling a murderous glare at the human dangling from his grasp, but once again, you try to soothe his ire with your voice, murmuring softly, “War, it's okay. It was just a joke. Just a bad joke, like the ones Strife sometimes makes, yeah?”

“Strife would never threaten to kill you,” the Horseman points out darkly, never once taking his eyes off John.

“Think about it,” you plead, “Do you really believe John would actually threaten me while you're in the room?”

War blinks, and miraculously, the metal fingers around John's collar loosen ever so slightly. 'No,' the Nephilim supposes, 'No, probably not.'

The human, John, may be an imbecile, but he hasn't lost his mind... Not yet.

With little more than a dismissive grunt, War finally pries his hand apart and allows John to drop like a stone.

Needless to say, your friend isn't too keen on sticking around to risk incurring the wrath of War again, so he beats a hasty retreat through your door, tossing a quick, “Text me when he's gone!” by way of a few parting words.

Death:

You suppose you should be grateful that Death is the most shrewd of the Horsemen. He, at least, has learned that not everything humans say to one another needs to be taken so literally. However, when it comes to matters concerning your well-being, he's never been one to take any chances.

Your friend is sitting on your left, Death to your right, in a worn, old armchair he's long since staked a claim over.

“Y/n, give me the remote.”

“I am not watching another hour of Strictly,” you laugh, playfully holding the television remote far away from your friend's grasping hands, “I just can't do it!”

They make a calculated lunge, succeeding in grabbing your wrist and grinning wickedly as they shout, “Give it back!”

“No way!”

“Give it back, or I swear to god, I'm gonna kill you!”

No sooner have the words left your friend's mouth than the temperature in the living room plummets.

Immediately, the pair of you know that something is wrong. It's a dead giveaway when your breath suddenly starts billowing out in large, white puffs of air. A single creak of old springs is all that alerts you to the looming threat, one far greater to your friend than it is to you. Meeting their eye, you shoot them a pointed look and hope they catch the meaning behind your furrowed brow and wide, worried eyes. 'No sudden movements.'

Slowly, cautiously, you turn your head towards the Nephilim, hardly surprised to find that he's gone from sitting to standing with barely a sound to warn you. That dread-inducing bone mask stares hard at your friend, who snatches their hand from your wrist and cowers backwards against the sofa cushions, likely wondering what had gone wrong. You promised them they were in no danger from your ethereal friend.

You, on the other hand, know exactly what's provoked him, and as grateful as you are to have Death himself in your corner, there are a few instances where you wish he'd tone down his overbearing tendencies. 'Eldest sibling syndrome,' Strife had called it, 'He's a son of a bitch, but he's a protective son of a bitch.'

“Death...” you utter warily, shifting forwards to better cover your friend from the Horseman's piercing glare, “It was just a joke. This is my friend, they'd never hurt me.”

Spluttering, they whip their eyes dart frantically between you and the Horseman. “That's what he thinks I-...” Aghast, they lean around you to meet Death's stare, incessant apologies already babbling from their lips. “- I am so sorry, I didn't mean-! I wasn't being serious!? It was just a joke-”

“- Oh?” the Nephilim cuts in with a cool air of indifference that fools nobody, “Odd. I was under the impression that jokes are intended to be funny.”

“This coming from you,” you deadpan whilst your friend stares at you like you've lost your mind.

You haven't. You don't think you have anyway, though it may certainly seem that way, talking back to a being so powerful that he can alter physics with just a slight change in his mood. But Death revoked his status as the Universe's Scariest Bastard when he announced himself as your guardian.

“Stop trying to be intimidating,” you hiss at him, earning a flat look in response. Right... He's not the type of Horseman who has to try at intimidation. Instead, you roll your eyes at him and say, “Look, just sit down, please? You know it was a joke. I know it was a joke. I'm in no danger here.”

Death's poisonous glare continues eating into your friend's ducked head, but at last, the ancient Nephilim gives a grunt, settling back down into his seat and curling his long, sinewy fingers over the arms like a gargoyle perched watchfully on top of a spire.

At the Horseman's apparent withdrawal, your friend relaxes a little, slumping down into the cushions with a soft sigh. You however, have been around Death for far too long to be fooled by his nonchalant slouch and heavy-lidded gaze.

He may have sat back down, but the Horseman is far from appeased. You can still see little wisps of breath escape through your lips. Heaving a long-suffering sigh, you ease yourself back into your own seat on the sofa, keeping a wary eye on Death, not for your own sake, but for that of your friend. For all his scathing remarks and callous behaviour, Death has never taken threats against his family lightly, be they threats made in jest or not.

Fury:

Fury doesn't like this.

She really doesn't like this. So far, your friend has done nothing but monopolise your attention, and though it aggrieves her immensely to have to admit it, Fury misses those instances where it's just you and her.

What can she say? She's the jealous type. Envy had proven that tenfold during her time in Haven city.

She's stepped out into your garden, through the sliding glass doors, where she paces back and forth in the drizzling rain whilst you and your friend remain in the warm, dry kitchen, talking across the counter together about life before the Apocalypse.

'Catching up,' you'd called it.

The Horseman could only listen to your friend make you laugh for so long before she grew agitated by the fondness in your tone. She's never noticed it while you're speaking to her.

Having tuned out the conversation muffling along indoors, she almost misses the alarming words entirely.

“Ugh, Y/n, you're literally the worst,” followed swiftly by, “I'm gonna kill you!”

Context is never something Fury has been particularly concerned about. And in this instance, she couldn't care less for clarity.

Whether because she's already been aggravated by her own, foolish jealousy, or because she's become hard-wired to respond to threats made against you with all the ferocious power of a lioness protecting her cub, Fury finds she can't keep Havoc shackled, nor does she especially want to.

Without warning, an eruption of blackened flames rips across your garden, burning away the flowers you'd painstakingly planted along the wall of your home last month. Scorch marks lick dark shadows across the grass, and a thunderous boom shakes the house on its foundations as a veritable monster bursts through the supernatural flames in place of a Horseman.

Havoc – the terrifying beast that lurks deep within Fury's raging heart, biding its time until a threat arises that's too great for the Horseman to handle with weapons alone. White-hot fire rages through the cracks in her crimson armour, sending sparks flitting out to be doused by the falling rain.

She drops to a knee in front of the sliding door, where she can already hear her human calling out to her, asking if she's all right. The other human, the so-called friend, is too busy screaming about the beast that's just thrust it's colossal, clawed hand through the entrance to your home, grasping blindly for a moment before those armoured fingers make contact with something small and squishy.

The hand snaps shut like a trap, pulling a writhing human across the little kitchen and upskittling the furniture as it pulls its catch from the house.

Havoc's grasp relaxes almost urgently once she lays her burning eyes on her own human, thrusting your fists against the fingers she's wrapped you up in. “Fury!” you bark, suddenly and alarmingly frantic, “What the Hell!? What's happening? What's wrong!?”

Nothing. Nothing's wrong, she'd tell you, if Havoc possessed either a mouth or the ability to communicate at all in this form. Nothing's wrong now that you're safe in her hands, away from that other human who'd made such a foolish threat against you, obviously thinking they were safe from the Horseman's keen ears.

She'll deal with them later. For, now, Fury's immense brute of a form raises to her feet, tucking you into her chest to shelter you from the rain. She turns, ignoring her human's fists as they continue to beat fruitlessly at her unrelenting grip, demanding to know where she thinks she's going.

Havoc clears your garden fence with a single step, barely having to raise her leg. First, she'll be taking you somewhere safe – her own home, perhaps, in another realm far from Earth, far from the human who poses a risk to your safety. Then, she'll be paying said human a visit, perhaps even try asking them for some context to their claim that they'd 'kill you.'

And the Creator help them if they don't come up with something good...