#Horsemen as siblings

[doodlesdreaming]

I need to doodle the siblings together more. (Art W.I.P)

[imagine-darksiders]

Do you have a hc for which horseman is physically the strongest? For me it goes War, Death, Fury, then Strife.

Actually that'd pretty much be my exact lineup.

While Death can take more damage than Strife, Strife can actually bench-press more than he can. Fury is stronger than Death in that regard through sheer determination. She doesn't stand a chance against War at arm wrestling, but she can hold her own against Death and will absolutely floor Strife if he ever challenges her.

[peapod20001]

A horseman riding his black and red horse <3

[koolkat9]

what do you think of the UK bro's as the four horsemen of the apocalypse?

Intrigued.

Conquest: For...obvious reasons. I try to separate Arthur and the British Empire as much as I can since these characters are humans first in my mind who happen to be immortal nations people, but I'm going to apply it here as a reason. Also this horseman is depicted with a bow which is also very Arthur.

War: I'm going to go with Allie for this. Purely because war makes me think of anger and he's got just as short of a temper as Arthur. Also the sword/dagger weapon seems to fit Alastair.

Famine: Dylan as famine. One, because of process of elimination and two, the whole using the scales to measure things I don't know...gave me Dylan vibes with being the oldest/one of the oldest and having to measure things out equally between his siblings.

Death (and Grave): Revelation says "I looked up and saw a horse whose color was pale green. Its rider was named Death, and his companion was the Grave. These two were given authority over one-fourth of the earth, to kill with the sword and famine and disease and wild animals." So since Death has a companion, it only felt fitting to shoe in both Irelands. Ireland would be Death and Grave would Northern Ireland since usually death comes first then the grave, and Ireland is older so...

[meihouwangslittlecumslut]

Ocs based on the four horsemen of the apocalypse

War: he/she/they

Famine: he/him

Pestilence: she/rot

Death: she/her

[yokoyas]

if you’re wondering what my thoughts on todays csm chapter are they’re mostly AAAASHDHDBFHAHDJFBDBDHDHDBSHXHDBSBDHSHSHS

[imsocialshit]

Chainsaw Man Chapter 111 Thoughts

"I find Yuko finally dying at the hands of chainsaw man kinda poetic as she spent her literal soul and human existence to become like him only to die at his hands." - My Best Friend Blob

And I've gotta admit, even though it really seems like it probably wasn't Denji (how would he have found Yuko, he hadn't expressed any interest in hunting her) that doesn't really matter when Yuko *thought* it was the actual Chainsawman.

I'm also really curious about why the freckled girl Denji saved/scared was shown near the end of the chapter. Every other character had some kind of significance (with Asa and Denji being main characters and Yuko being the focus of the recent chapters.) but shes just like there

I don't have many theories about csm part 2 yet but I'm hoping to finally learn what devil Kobeni has a contract with. My current assumption is that it's some kind of luck based devil. My much less realistic hope is Power return.

[ghosts-and-glory]

My really stupid idea for a cult of the lamb modern au is instead of gods or anything the Bishops and TOWW are just YouTubers having internet beef.

I literally don’t have time to do anything with this thought but it won’t get out of my head.

Narinder got his channel banned by his siblings mass reporting his ass. Instead of being representative of horsemen of the apocalypse it’s a YouTube genre. Obviously Heket as famine is a mukbang channel. I can’t explain why but with Leshy I know in my heart that chaos equals gaming channel. Kallamar as pestilence feels like a shitty health and wellness channel to promote his mlm. With Shamura as war all my ideas didn’t 100% fit but I feel with their wisdom, five hour video essays. Narinder as death, drama, has to be a drama channel.

Narinder just like hijacks channels to try an ban evade. Keeps “befriending” small YouTubers. Ratau used to have a little channel that was just low quality recordings of him and his buddies gambling. Befriended Narinder who just gives shitty business advice and got his channel banned. Narinder gets The Lamb to make carrier ending take down videos on the bishops.

Leshy def hacked and faked speed runs. Heket was probably just toxic, you know she probably gossips 24/7. I already said it but Kallamar, mlm, and not the gay kind. Shamura, plagiarism and “I made it the fuck up” (if you know you know lmao) The four horseman of YouTube crimes.

[angeliicheartt]

Hi I saw your requests were open for Hazbin and I wanted to see if I could request a Lucifer x Reader who is part of the four horsemen of the apocalypse? Thanks!

i chose to write for death!!

lucifer x death!gn!reader

death and sin (lucifer)

—

𓌜 he’s hesitant about you at first, you are death.

𓌜 i picture that you hate the fact that you’re death and that you bring it to earth, and when lucifer learns this, he relates so much!

𓌜 he feels terrible that he ever judged you for being death.

𓌜 the two of you can relate so much.

𓌜 he spots you one day on your pale horse, carrying a child in your arms to welcome them into hell.

𓌜 you bring the child to a safe place (the hazbin hotel) before meeting up with lucifer again.

𓌜 when you see him you practically fall off your horse before tumbling into his arms, tears staining your delicate face.

𓌜 the child had accidentally killed their sibling in an accident, causing them to be damned, and they had died in the hospital.

𓌜 lucifer transported you two to his (or your shared) room and you cried into his arms for hours, blaming yourself.

𓌜 he didn’t know how to comfort you, so he just held you and murmured sweet nothings and shushes to you.

𓌜 after a few hours, your sobbing had subsided and you began to fall asleep.

𓌜 he changed you both into pajamas before letting you snuggle up to him, your tear-stained face digging into his neck.

end!

—

i loved this idea smm

[caia444]

All my Devils Night TT audios🖤

-My favourite Will and Emmy audio🩷

-Torrance-Fane siblings audio🔪🗡️

-Will Grayson eating Emmy👀

-Sad Micheal and Erika audio💔

-Damon Torrance audio👀

-Emory Scott audio👑

-Sad Emory Scott💔

-Kai Mori audio👀

-Damon Torrance audio👀

-Hot devilsnight girls audio👯‍♀️

-Hot devilsnight 🐎🙋‍♂️ audio

-Emory Scott and Nikova Banks parallel audio👯‍♀️

-Sad Damon Torrance trauma audio💔

-Emory and Will proposal audio💍

-Damon Torrance & Will Graysoniii being fruity audio🥭

-Will being mean/Emory’s trauma audio💔

-Damon Torrance trauma audio💔

-Emory Scott trauma audio💔

-Alex Palmer and Emory Scott audio👀

-Devilsnight audio 2022💀

-Damon Torrance and Emmy Scott friendship audio🩷

-Will and Emory future audio🏠

-Emory and the Horsemen in school audio📚

-Damon Torrance and Nikova Banks audio👸🏻🤴🏻

-FireNight audio🕯️

-My beautiful Nikova Banks audio💐

-Emory my hot girl audio💄

-Winter Ashby my beautiful girl audio❄️

-Damon Torrance&WillGraysoniii party audio🍾

-Emory, Micah, Rory and Aydin family audio🩷

-Will being obsessed with Emmy audio🥹

-Emory Scott touching the untouchable audio🔪

-Damon and Emory Friend audio🩷pt 2

-Sad Emory Scott trauma audio💔

-Micheal and Erika relationship audio🖤

-Winter putting Damon in his place audio🔪

-Damon Torrance mistreating my girls audio💔

-Emory Scott putting Will in his place audio💋

-Damon and his burrito (Will) audio🌯

[blackseafoam]

Marked Part III

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption crossover AU (with illustrations)

PART 1 - PART 2

Word count: 2002

CW: Stuff you'd normally find in a western story. Swearing, smoking, gun touting, bullet wounds, horse jokes.

“Why do you keep looking over there? The job is as good as done, Arthur.” Javier gestured with his whiskey glass, elbows planted on the bar top.

“Yeah, have a drink. We earned it.” Lenny nodded with his beer.

“Slow down, Summers, remember the last time you came here to ‘wind down’” Javier jabbed, snickering.

“Shut up, Esquella.” Lenny muttered into his glass as he raised it.

Arthur barely noticed the two bickering. His mind elsewhere. There was a nagging feeling those three soldiers weren’t done fighting yet. The energy between those men was almost as if they could talk without speaking. Their expressions clearly showed they were not ready to give up yet. Like an animal in a snare, biting and scratching to its last breath, chewing off its leg to get away if it has to.

He sipped his whiskey but kept one eye dutifully on the front of the Sheriff's office, just in case, even as the sun went down and the warm light of lanterns and candles became the only way to see.

BOOM. Every glass on every table shuddered at once. Lenny choked on his drink.

Dutch’s boys knew the sound of dynamite all too well. Arthur got to his feet and ran outside, closely followed by his inebriated posse.

The side of the sheriff's station was blown wide open, a gaping hole in the wall revealed the inside of the holding cell, and prisoners nowhere to be seen. Arthur cursed, making eye contact with the deputy inside, on the other side of the bars, standing frozen in shock.

“Damn, these guys might be even crazier than us.” Lenny huffed. Javier sighed with frusdration.

“Goddamn. I can’t believe it.” Arthur couldn’t help but sound a little impressed.

Arthur’s attention went to the muddy ground, to the scrambling footprints, four, no, five sets of boots led toward the main road, then disappeared.

“They got on a wagon, come on.” Arthur growled, then turned to get his horse. This bounty was now officially giving them a run for their money.

“Do you think they heard that?” Wrecker laughed as soon as his brothers climbed aboard the wagon. With a flick of the reins they were off as quickly as Murray could pull the full load. Tech, being the designated driver, climbed to the front and took the reins. They headed south out of the town,the opposite direction of their old camp. It almost felt good to get into some action again, almost.

“Where’s Meggy?” Hunter huffed as he took a seat.

“In here!” His seat spoke. Echo huffed a laugh as Hunter stood in shock and opened the crate. The three siblings in the cargo area shared a reunion hug.

“How touching.” Crosshair caught up to the wagon on Havoc, rifle trained to the sky in one hand, reins in the other. The jet black steed’s nostrils flaring with excitement. “Celebrate later, we’re being followed.” He cast a glance over his shoulder.

Three horsemen coming up from behind caught the light of the train station on the edge of town. Barely visible at this distance, but closing fast.

“Did you bring our guns?” Echo began moving the supply crates to barricade the rear of the open wagon.

“In here!” Meggy handed him a saddlebag from the floor.

Echo moved one crate toward the front of the wagon. Hunter motioned Meggy to take cover behind it. “Do not move from this spot until we say so.” He said sternly. Meggy looked at him with eyes wide open, nodding and sitting frozen still. The intensity in his expression taking her aback.

Wrecker loaded his sawn-off shotgun, Echo spun his pistol, and Hunter turned the safety off of his revolver. Tech urged the horse to continue as fast as he dared into the night. He wasn’t familiar with this road but from his vague recollection of maps it was relatively straight.

The first shot rang out, splintering through the back of the driver’s seat. Missing Tech’s hip by inches. Being on the wagon meant their aim would be marginally better than their pursuers at full gallop. Hopefully.

Sure enough, it was their three escorts from earlier that came into view in the moonlight. One of them took another shot, but it went wide. Hunter and Echo returned fire, forcing the bounty hunters to spread out evasively. Meggy watched in horror over the crate, covering her ears and not daring to move a muscle as she crouched in the corner. Her limbs shook with adrenaline.

“We are not going to outrun them, we need a plan!” Tech called over his shoulder.

“No way we’re surrendering!” Wrecker bit out as he rolled into the back to take cover.

“I have an idea.” Tech gritted his teeth and veered the wagon onto the train tracks.

“TE-ECH, what are you do-oing!?” Echo yelled, the seriousness in his tone cut by his jostling voice. The wagon wheels bumped violently as they rolled over the railroad ties.

“Blackwater!” Is all he said in response.

Echo didn’t have time to ask more questions, as more shots rang out. A shot went straight through Hunter’s side, and into the crate protecting Meggy.

Hunter staggered, Echo noticed. “Hunter’s hit!” He announced. Hunter was still firing after he stumbled to his knees, Wrecker stowed his shotgun went to his brother’s aid. His close-range weapon wasn’t much help in the firefight anyway.

“We still need more distance!” Crosshair spat, his expression steeling as he thought. He knew that as soon as their enemies caught up with the wagon, it was all over. And they were getting uncomfortably close by the second.

The massive railroad bridge that was Bard’s Crossing stretched high over the yawning mouth of the Dakota River before it spanned out into Flat Iron Lake. Tech was leading them straight for it, an absolute madman, but probably one of the only people who could pull it off. Crosshair couldn’t help but smirk at his brother, the lunacy of the situation.

In that moment, Crosshair realized what he needed to do. He slowed Havoc to a canter. The stallion grunted, wanting to stay with his herd.

“Crosshair, what are you doing?!” Wrecker called out, crouched over Hunter, trying to staunch the hole in his side.

“Buying time.” Crosshair said, releasing the reins to cock his rifle. Using his seat to further slow his horse.

“This isn’t part of the plan!” Tech started to slow Murray.

“Too bad, it is now. GO! I’ll meet you in Blackwater.”

Tech nodded reluctantly, and urged Marauder back up to speed.

“This is not good, we shouldn’t split up!” Echo lowered his pistol, watching Crosshair and Havoc disappear into the darkness. “Running off to be the hero never works Crosshair!” He futilely called after his brother.

After the bridge, Tech steered the wagon back onto the road uncomfortably close to an oncoming train, thankfully still going slow as it left the nearby station. He cast an apologetic wave at the conductor who was visibly angry. They pulled the wagon over as soon as possible, Tech held up the driver’s lantern to check on Hunter. “How bad?” He was almost afraid to ask.

“A little worse than a graze, but I don’t think it hit anything important.” Wrecker reported.

“I’d… beg to differ, Wrecker. Feels pretty important.” Hunter huffed a small laugh which became a groan.

Echo rummaged through the kitchen crate for a whiskey bottle. Handing it to Hunter, who took a long swig before returning it. His face scrunching in anticipation before Echo splashed the stinging liquid onto the wound.

Tech finished by cleaning and staunching the wound with fabric from their triage kit, leftover from the war. They hadn’t had much use of it since then. After the train went by they were left in hanging silence. The tension began to abate, though worry about Crosshair still hung in the air. Wrecker looked out toward the bridge as if he could see his brother through the darkness if he tried hard enough.

Echo turned toward Meggy, still cowering in the corner of the wagon. Still doing exactly as Hunter instructed, staying put. Her face was lined with horror and her eyes were wet, as she hugged her still shaking legs.

“Hey, hey Meggy. We’re okay.” Echo went to her side. She glanced at him, then looked back toward Hunter and Tech. “Here, uh, come sit up here.” He took her elbow. The poor girl looked shell-shocked as if she were the one who’d been through a war. She took his offer to get up off the floor and sit on a crate with him, still shivering.

Crosshair halted Havoc, still on the bridge. He could already hear the hoofbeats of his pursuers pounding on the wooden struts. He deftly uncaulked his rifle and stowed it in the saddle as he slid off. Walking several paces toward the enemy, he raised his hands toward the stars above.

The gang got on their way again. “The closer we are to Blackwater, the safer we’ll be.” Tech assured, steering Murray to ford a shallow creek, letting the loyal beast take a long drink of water before continuing on.

“Why’s that?” Hunter croaked, taking another swig of whisky while trying to get comfortable against a sideways barrel close to Meggy’s seat.

“A few weeks ago the Van der Linde gang were here, and… left quite the mess.” Tech snapped the reins and Murray continued at a walk. “The gang robbed the Blackwater ferry. $150,000, according to the paper.” He added.

Wrecker whistled in amazement. “That’s a lot of cash…”

“It was a bloody affair, the Pinkertons got involved.”

“We should probably stay far enough away from the town if there are feds about, not to mention in case Meg–, I mean our wanted posters have made it out here.” Echo pointed out, casting a glance at Meggy beside him, still as a statue with Echo’s jacket draped over her shoulders. Hunter looking at her with concern, despite being the only one bleeding.

“Meggy, are you okay?” Hunter put the bottle to the side and reached out to her, wincing as the motion tugged painfully.

“She’s not hurt...” Echo pondered. “I think she’s scared, but she hasn’t said anything.”

“I’m okay.” Meggy nodded, and a tear ran down her face. She wiped it quickly, hoping no one saw.

Her brothers continued to console her as the wagon continued into the dark.

Arthur, Javier and Lenny rode up on the lone dark-clad outlaw with guns drawn.

“You’re coming with us.” Lenny spat, leveling his pistol.

“I would like to come to an arrangement.” Crosshair called out. “I have… a proposition.”

Lenny and Javier looked at Arthur, who raised his chin in interest. “Let’s talk somewhere we aren’t about to get crushed by a train.” He responded after a beat of consideration. Crosshair spun around and saw the light of an engine appearing on the other end of the bridge, when he turned back around Dutch’s boys were trotting back to solid ground. Crosshair mounted up and followed.

“You sure this is a good idea, Morgan?” Javier chided.

“Let’s hear him out. It’s our only option now.” Arthur cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction of Blackwater.

Between two prairie hills just outside Blackwater, the Bad Batch gang had settled in for the night, huddled against the wagon with a small campfire. Coyotes yapped nearby, and the crickets added to the chorus with their own nighttime song. Meggy laid on her bedroll between Hunter and Wrecker. Tech took the first watch after he untacked Marauder and brushed him. All five of them were silent with worry since the wagon wheels stopped. Every little sound had Tech looking up from what he was doing, hoping it was Crosshair catching up with them. Wrecker took the next watch, then Echo. Meggy and Hunter were allowed to sleep off the ordeal. The night slid by with no sign of their absent brother.

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 @omegafett99 @griffedeloup @happydragon @fionas-frenzy @dizzy-9906

Author's note:

"It didn't hit nothin' important!!" That scene from the Ballad of Buster Scruggs kept playing in my head while I wrote this. I might add some more illustrations to this later, cuz I still have some ideas, but for now I just wanted to get this OUT THERE. I've completed a rough outline of the whole story at this point, and I'm so excited for the stuff at the climax. I have no idea how many chapters this will be but I'm trying to keep each one around 1.5 - 3k words.

I am so grateful for the positive feedback on the first two chapters thank y’all so much! I am certainly not the most experienced writer, and have been kind of hard on myself with this chapter, but had to keep remembering that this is all just for fun and doesn’t have to be perfect.

[doodlesdreaming]

“Pride is an ugly thing, but I’m proud of us.”

Progress shots can be found here:

[imagine-darksiders]

Tween Fury: DEEEEAATH! STRIFE HIT ME!

Tween Strife: SHE HIT ME FIRST!

Death, who is just trying to read his book in peace:

[peapod20001]

Ok I’m just throwing thoughts to the wind but p much Teuflisch is War, Frances is Conquest, and Gabriele is Death

[reinstarnation]

Ah yes, the 5 horsemen of the apocalypse

capitalism

hungry but unclear if it's for food, touch, or hubris

narcissism but with jazz hands

voyeurism

nostalgia traps >:) and paradoxes

also known as

oldest sibling syndrome

fem-presenting he/him supremacy

theatre kid

stalker

OOOOH BOY A SPANKOFFSKI (bastard)

[darkdemeter]

Hi! Can I request the four horsemen reacting to an s/o who makes them hand Crafted Gifts (Like a lot of them!) Everything from protection charms,to mugs to portraits of them and their horses (prefferably a gender neutral s/o!)

Ty in advance and do take ur time!!

HANDICRAFT

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/War/Strife/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ This was a fun request to write for, I enjoyed it so much, thank you @screechinginthevoid and I hope you enjoy! WARNINGS! ↳ The slightest hint of spice? but mostly just fluffy, wholesome content

✎3.3k ──────────────── ◆

You always had a knack for creating things. Dabbling in this and that, you were raised on the ideology and principle that true gifts come from the heart. That the effort and love is what makes the present all the more special, sure, but it didn’t hurt knowing a thing or two about knitting a pretty snug scarf and hat during the whole apocalypse ordeal.

Losing your friends and loved ones did bring a dark cloud to loom high over your head constantly. Your love to create things for people had been robbed from you, leaving your set of skills as a means of survival. Until you incidentally bumped into the fabled Horsemen of the end times. From then on, and sticking to the four like a stray cat tagging along, they came to take care of you. 

And you found your loving spark to create gifts again. So…

DEATH

A gift. For him? 

“Why?” 

Poor, sweet… grouchy and sassy Death, like his other siblings as you come to find, doesn't exactly understand the concept of gifts that have no practical purpose other than sentimental value. The fact that every time he sees you, you’re nearly always making something for either him or his siblings. This occurs quite a bit, if not a lot. So in the beginning, Death was receiving a lot of gifts that you made, most of which he had little clue what to do with, so he’d cast them aside, muttering how humans were just as bad as the Makers.

The brand new scarf you made after having scoured the desolated Earth in search for the finest, softest fabric you could find, isn’t meant to help him ward off evil forces that seek imbalance? Well, if you don’t count warding off the age-old rag he was wearing around his shoulders for who knows how long. But hey, that’s just your opinion. 

You know deep down he appreciates the garb upgrade, very deep down, it’s one present that he hasn’t immediately disregarded, but he remains placid about showing any form of emotion that may be perceived as weakness. But the fact that he hasn’t tossed it aside makes your stomach flutter and your heart skip a few beats, seeing that Death can be fond of your hand crafted gifts. He’s just particular. Minimalistic, you could say. 

That doesn’t stop you from cracking the odd joke here and there, yeah you’ve seen him scowl and sigh in his dismay at the ever increasing numbers of little handmade bracelets on Harvester. 

Another example: mugs. 

Was not keen at all, but he slightly warmed – after some major prodding on your part – of having a special mug all his own whenever he and his siblings drifted through. The first mug you created was a hard effort won, since you were a little rusty with the pottery branch of your handicraft. With a finishing touch you painted the label: Bone Daddy. 

To this day he still doesn’t grasp the logic behind it, and with a scarlet blush, you brush off the subject entirely and invite him to sip from his brand new mug: Sass To The Bone.

When you first created a protection charm for him to wear as a pendent, this nephilim gave you the most critical and harshest lecture that you almost cried. He put teachers who demanded your overdue assignment to shame by a hundred levels. 

In the end, you sniff loudly with a pout and cry, “Just take it, okay?! I want you to be safe!”

Up until that point, you always approached him with a newly crafted gift with a bounce on the balls of your feet and a wide, bright grin. The sight ever so slowly wearing him down until he came to find it endearing how bubbly and excited you were to present a gift meant for him. To see you on the brink of tears with your confession sort of broke something inside him. Something he didn’t know he was capable of feeling and took the charm. 

It doesn’t bother you how he chooses to wear it, whether it be attached to the metallic limb of Harvester or threaded over to dangle alongside his wrist. All that matters to you is that he wears it somehow, assuring you that he knows how comforted you are in seeing it on his person. It makes you feel heard and that your love for him came from the heart when toying with potentially dangerous wells of magic just to ensure his safety. 

He’s risked himself to save you from danger many times. Whether that be because of his sworn duty to uphold the balance or some estranged level of love all his own; you find it only fitting that you return the favour – the want to protect him. And though unknown to you, he knows this. 

On the note of drawings, well uh… let’s just say you don’t want Death seeing those anytime soon, lest he questions your entire state of mind. Maybe you should draw a few tame ones sometime soon, so then he stops judging you everytime you hiss like a soaked cat and dive atop your sketchbook you left out the night before. 

But he’s mighty impressed with a painting you did recently of Despair, and you don’t know much about the rider’s steed, but you won’t put it past the beast taking a liking to it too. 

STRIFE

This nephilim has a treasure trove of your handmade gifts. Hands down. And he fucking loves it. So do you! Alright, at first, Strife was rather hesitant, but he warms to it quicker than his siblings, though it still takes a considerable amount of time, and dammit, this gunslinger soon begins a rule that each time you see each other, you either have a gift made or he gets to see the work in progress. No ifs, buts or look out there’s a demon behind you. 

Good news for you is that if you need a specific material or artefact to create something like a protective charm, he is on it. He will scour the known and unknown realms in search for what you need, and you’re more than happy to tinker away at the charm while he washes himself off in the shower, because whatever he had slain reeked a scent so foul you had to air out the entire house for hours. It did bother him at first when he discovered you were dabbling in magics so advanced, but you assure him you’re being careful and have been undergoing tutoring by the Makers. Though Strife would much rather you learn from either him, Fury or Death.

“Just be careful with that stuff, ok? I don’t want you getting hurt from it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief every time you see the little horse charm dangle on the leather cord attached to his scarf with a small, bone pin.

Overall, he is in awe that you make something to aid in protecting him when he’s away, and he adores the ever-living shit out of all your gifts and there is no force in all the universe that can alter that way of thinking. 

The first time you made a knitted beanie for him, he was reluctant to remove his helm, but after the amount of time you’ve known one another, through thick and thin, he trusts you. The way his golden eyes seemed to brighten even more made you realise in that moment how much you loved him. Of course, you couldn’t refrain from taking a polaroid of you both with him in his new hat and you make a copy of the photo so that he had a version that he can reflect on wherever he happens to be that’s away from you. 

Jealousy is a cute fit on Strife. From how he carries on and scowls childishly sure has its charm, and being envious of Death’s mug, Sass To The Bone, you once again try your hand at crafting a mug all his own. He finds it mighty impressive what you can do, despite the multitudes of failures, you’re determined. Strife’s pride skyrockets every time he sips from his printed cup, #1 Sharpshooter with two – dare you say terribly doodled variants – of his dual pistols. He gets a kick from his siblings reactions to his mug, but he just elbows you gently in the rib and mutters lowly, “They’re just jealous because it's true.”

Okay, so about those drawings. You drew a few of them, albeit you were very critical of these rare and few gifts, but Strife was intrigued and encouraged you to draw more. So you did, obviously, but still you mostly drew in secret… and he caught onto that. He’d first catch you scribbling away in your little sketchbook when either at home and he was relaxing, or if you both were out on some venture together. The way you’d poke your tongue out slightly and your brows come down in a concentrative manner. Oh, be still his beating heart. 

But then he caught sight of some rather tasteful, and less cladded poses of himself. The moment he whistled over your shoulder with a purred, “Oooh, what’re these?”

“Strife no—!”

He’d plucked the book from your hands before you could do much else, your pencil dropped to the floor with an echoing clatter that snaps the lead. 

You felt ready for Death to tuck you into a permanent sleep forever with Harvester. Because of the large and ever-world changing event known as the apocalypse, it put your school on persistent hold and you were in the midst of your visual arts major, studying nude figure art when havoc and calamity ensued. Ah yes, the fine artistry of studying the anatomy is a tricky one but also one of mystique and astounding beauty. 

“You know, if you need a model reference, you can always just ask,” he growls playfully with a fanged grin. All you can do is press the sketchbook to your flushed, burning face with a sigh. 

WAR

Maybe because he’s the youngest of his siblings, but you spoil this nephilim with gifts, though at first he was quick to brush them off with a cold turn of his shoulder or scoff, but over time you managed to worm your way under the thick hide of his stubbornness and the more he found it nye impossible to say no to you or your handmade gifts. 

It was an overwhelming occurrence for him to adjust to but now, he secretly finds himself almost excited to be given something new. You’re just a considerate human, always thinking about what you can make and give to others, he ponders to himself often if you stop and consider creating things for yourself.

“I make stuff for myself, don’t worry. Now, I made you these mittens!”

You may have a way of crafting, but you're still human. Making anything of considerate size to even fit this Horsemen’s pinky takes a good amount of time, so knitted wares only come around a rare few times a year. 

Despite being a volcanic mass of producing his own body heat, he accepts the mittens, the few scarves and other knitted accessories – and the very, very large sweater for Christmas. Making four of them had to be a major plan in the works a few years prior, it took that long. 

He finds comfort in the scarves mostly rather than actually any sort of functionality. Just dipping his nose to muzzle into the softness of wool reminds him of you and your scent that faintly lingers on it. It grounds him and gives him something to look forward to once his mission is done. 

He got defensive about it once when Strife dared to tease him. “You missing the human, little bro?” 

Geez, that’s the harshest glare that’s been inscribed across War’s features, and the witty gunslinger won’t be forgetting it anytime soon. 

He’s rather curious about your process and quite a bit, he will take a moment to study what you do, how you do it and will occasionally ask questions.

Every gift you make for War is precious to him and though he may not be able to carry them all with him, you ensure that they will be safely kept. Those that he does have on him, he will spare a moment when he can to look upon it, to feel it and to just bask in the knowledge that you hold him so near and dear to him. 

Humans and their traditions, War never really got his head around it, and his initial lack of knowing why you were presenting him with such offerings, only to be told that it’s just something humans do. You give each other things, especially those who you care about. 

“You care about me?”

“Of course I do, War,” you’d answer simply with a smile. 

Eventually making a mug for the red rider, you did get a bit too in your head about it. 

“It’s too small…,” became a mantra at this point as you morphed the pottery clay. Your so-called mug basically became a large bowl with a handle, let’s be honest. You at least had a bigger canvas to work with for the print and paint. 

And painting it was a beast! You decided to kill two birds with one stone, to really test your abilities and did a pattern of War astride his steed, Ruin around the mug’s perimeter. War’s fascination with the design never ceases to bring a smile to your face, sometimes you see him turning it over and over again just to watch the seemingly galloping images.

With your drawings, you just love doing portraits of War and Ruin. Out roaming together, you may catch a beautiful landscape and you call for War. “Stand right here with Ruin, I gotta draw this out!”

You save the largest sketchbooks for these two exclusively because there is no way you can contain so much detail into a sized down sketch. Nuh uh, you gotta go big or go home. Whether it’s a finished piece or just a quick sketch to have down for later, War is drawn to it, you notice the faintest blush dusting over his cheeks as he asks, “Could I keep it once you’re finished?”

For all that brawn, there is for certain a keen eye for detail. War notices all the finer points you seem to pick out, capturing just the right angle, the posing, he is definitely a fan of your artwork, especially when you give them to him. 

War has become quite the collector of your handmade treasures and he is honoured deeply by your affectionate gifts made from the heart, all for him. 

FURY

“Human— ugh, what is it you wish to give me this time?” 

Need more be said? In the beginning of this dynamic, approaching Fury was a very tricky gamble all its own. In fact, the first few handmade gifts you did make for her, you either would ask either one of her brothers to pass it off in your stead, or leave it in a spot which she occupied so that she knew it was for her.

Her face betrayed her obvious distaste for your human antics, often times she would sneer as she inspected whatever it was you made. 

Colourful, rainbow bands of friendship — perhaps your attempt of silently asking for her companionship — to knitted wares of a shawl to protect her from the elements. You believe she’s taken the latter gift well considering you’ve seen her on numerous occasions sporting it, and when you do point it out, her eyes thin slightly, narrowing in your direction.

“I-I just… mean to say, I’m glad you’re wearing it… it looks good on you.”

Over time, she’s become more comfortable about the concept, though at this point, you practically throw handmade bits and bobs at her and she’s forced to concede to it. Days where it’s just you and her lounging about your home, she may strip down from her armour and replace it with that sweater you knitted for her last Christmas, her reaction to it upon unwrapping it was priceless. A genuine, “You made this for me?” 

You could just hear the sheer surprise and dare you say it, amazement. She does appear to relax just the littlest bit when that soft wool wraps around her torso, and if you’re lucky, she will serve you with a compliment that brings a prideful hum to you and a smile.

With any sort of protective charms, Fury is wary, and she inquires exactly who, when, where and how. She wants all the details so she can make sure it’s safe, but she’s not opposed to taking over as your new teacher when it comes to the very advanced sort of magic. “Let me teach you, before you get yourself killed. Now what are you making for me this time?”

She knows that look in your eyes by now. That creative, human glint you get when your mind conjures up another idea. When explaining you want to make her a charm bracelet that will aid in protecting her, she doesn’t know what to say. For a powerful being such as herself, she doesn’t often take a moment to exactly assess the danger she’s about to pursue. 

The fact that from your perspective, you feel the need to somehow protect her, is… something of endearing to her. She’s still discovering herself but you two have known each other for some time now, she has become attached. Though she was nonchalant about it, she accepts and wears the bracelet always when out on a mission, and she is proud of your efforts and accomplishment to create a rather powerful artefact. 

Creating a mug for this nephilim was a bit of a challenge, but you settled on a more tea-esque style, a soft and round base and a bit of an intricate handle with a deep purple as it’s main colour, with accents of gold and white swirls in a marble design. She thinks it’s pretty cool what you’ve done and she enjoys sipping from it, flaring at Strife as he flaunts his own mug, she merely rolls her eyes. She knows she’s got the best cup, that’s just her opinion. 

“Um, Fury, I made this drawing for you.” With a tilt of her head and quirk of her brow, she took the handed piece of paper from your hands and… smiles? A genuine smile? She is rather critical of humans and their entire existence, how they plot along, seemingly living pointless lives; but she is mighty impressed with the rendition of her and Rampage overlooking the sunset on a cliff side you both had gone to about a month ago. 

“That is… quite talented, human. You drew this?” 

When telling her about your major arts degree before the entire world falling into a giant shithole of hell, you expected her not to fully understand or care, until you feel her hand rest on your shoulder. “You should keep at this art of yours. You have potential.” 

“Oh, er— thanks!” That was a boost of encouragement, no matter how lacking her tone was at the time, you know her better by now she isn’t the most forthcoming with her more intimate, softer side. At least not so readily. 

But you do. You continue pursuing your art and she does at times indulge you in being your model, as does Rampage, when he’s not trying to either run you over because he wants more pats and treats. 

Fury has amassed a private collection she will reflect on with fondness, her own little treasure trove of gifts that she’s come to adore; because they represent the kindness and love you put into them. 

———

Overall, your skills have expanded quite a bit, and these four may not admit it outright - might try and hide it - but they appreciate each and every single one of your gifts, and you: their little human.