ARCH ✶ ANGEL

jove. archangel of ouranos. defender of the solar system.

[archxngelic]

oncehallowed‌:

𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 ; kova → who exactly knows where. 𝖜𝖍𝖊𝖓 ; immediately after the ball , late aries , 998 a. l. 𝖜𝖍𝖔 ; @archxngelic

VEINS THRUM DANGEROUSLY WITH adrenaline; persia is drunk off of their destruction of the crystal palace , she is high on the feeling of being , of obliterating — the crazed desire for annihilation presses itself against her bones , her skin , as though it might just burst through her chest. nearly a thousand years is , truly , no time at all to someone such as herself , but with the inactivity of deep space , with nothing to conquer , to crush , to rebuild as she and jove would see fit — it had been excruciating. persia is not a creature of great patience.

tonight , however , had been their liberation. kova is not warm , and it feels somewhat like neptune; she could not quite proclaim it home , because that title belonged solely to jove , but the chill in the air is familiar. welcome , even. one hand lifts to test for snow , but as she hears the whisper of telltale footsteps , she whirls with the same maniacal elegance she’d moved with in the ballroom.

“   you ,   ” she breathes , reverence in each letter , a delighted sway in how she moves as she approaches them. stupid , sweet selene — oh , doesn’t she realize that jove is the only being persia worships ? bows to ? not even banishment could change that. not even death. “   you  divine ,  ruinous thing. my heart — oh , it is only just beginning.   ” she takes their hands in her own , pulls them to her lips so she can press kisses to their knuckles. as she does so , she looks up at them through her lashes , smiles. “   i cannot wait to taste war again , with you at my side. we will be unstoppable — we will end this world.   ”

How dearly they missed this, the cold bite of the Kovan wind on their skin and the taste of fresh ruin their tongue. It has been nearly a thousand years since Jove felt tasted such destruction, since they felt like this - so close to the edge of madness, so deliciously powerful - and despite their endless patience, their carefully cultivated mechanisms of control, they almost don’t know how they lived without it. It’s so far past intoxicating - the sound of shattering crystal, floors cracking beneath their step, bright reflections in broken glass and witnessing Persia in all her terrible, dazzling, glory - it would make anyone else delirious. On Jove, it is a swiftness to their step, an edge to every movement, something sharp and raw and hidden, shining through like a beam of white light slicing through the clouds.

Persia moves towards them and Jove is flooded with the depths of love and gratitude they feel for her. What would they be if they hadn’t found each other? What potential would have gone wasted had Persia not pulled Jove to the precipice of chaos and taught a being of restraint how to let go, to indulge in their power? She brings their hands to her mouth, moving with such wild grace, and promises beautiful destruction, the world crumbling at their feet as it should have all those years ago.

“Oh, my infinity, my love,” they say, taking her face their hands, voice breathless with thrill and devotion, “we will be like nothing have ever seen, they will all be blinded by our brilliance.” They move a hand to the back of her neck, tangling their fingers in her curls, and lean in to press their lips to hers, sealing the promise with a kiss pushing just past gentle. Jove pulls away, sighing softly (and it is only alone with her that anything about them could ever be called soft), and tilts their forehead against hers. “Forget the moon,” they whisper, “we shall outshine the very stars.”

[archxngelic]

ploutonis‌:

♇ TIME & PLACE: late Aries, 998 A.L., the barrens of Kova ♇ STATUS: restricted to @archxngelic

So, this is what it feels like. Earth, that great bluish globe, smeared with blotches of green and tufts of white, floating among stars and celestials in space’s speckled distance. A millennia ago, Magnus knew it well: the seeping chill of Kova’s decrepit plains, the imposing leer of its craggy peaks. It was an unwelcoming nation then, its people embittered and rebellious, but it seethes with desolation now. It is barren, grieving, a starving country starved of warmth. Emptied of hope and happiness, abandoned by light.

A sudden gust of wind howls its shrieking melody through the wide expanse of dead grass before him; a shiver jolts down his spine at the sound. This is no place for a god. Nothing holy can live here, nothing good. The atmosphere itself leeches: its ancient claws, dull from centuries of disuse, sink deep into him as the frozen earth crunches beneath his feet. It siphons from him, the gnawing hunger of a thousand years lapping desperately at the ichor flowing through his veins. Though part of him feels compelled to sate it, he knows one angel’s sacrifice cannot absolve the land of another’s ruin. He cannot fix this wasteland; he can only save it.

Jove and Persia cannot do either. Their presence, though divine, lays unknowable waste to the Earth. Cities, once great, turn to dust. Kovan children scream for mercy. Blood never ceases to flow. He has witnessed these horrors countless times: their devastation is Magnus’ past, present, and future. He knows they are not righteous warriors, but reapers daring to masquerade as such, bound by oath and honor to a queen ravaged by suffering, the likes of which they will never know.

He remembers vividly the wild look in Nehelenia’s eye as he pressed a sword to her throat in a bid for peace. It was so many centuries ago, and yet, he remembers with absolute clarity seeing her, finally, for what she was and is and will forever be: not a queen, but a mother, hurting and howling, inflicting upon the world no more evil than it had inflicted upon her. He remembers that look, and as he stands here, the wide berth of a forgotten battlefield between himself and Jove, he can imagine it in his eye, too.

“You tell lies about me,” he says, no louder than necessary, but still impossibly angry. There is an uncharacteristic hardness to his voice, a shade of distaste, a hue of hurt. Their first conversation in a millennia, and it is colored with betrayal. “I’ve stolen nothing from you, and yet here you are, claiming that I have. Threatening me with a prophecy you were never the only ones privy to.” His mouth is dry, narrow shoulders trembling under the weight of the universe. “I’m well aware of how I got my hands on it, Jove. How did you?”

If there has ever been a place for Jove on this planet, it is here, on barren fields of Kova, taking in breaths of icy air. There are so few alive who remembers this place the way Jove does, alive with war, wrought with new destruction, glorious and terrible. They remember the sound of iron hitting iron and the smell of smoke, the way the world had crumbled around them. There is a satisfaction in seeing their work still carved into the surface of this world, refusing to heal and be forgotten, left instead as a barren testament to times long past. Fitting, for the occasion.

It is not a place that can be approached unseen. It is not a place that can be approached without thinking of the past; a past that Jove takes pride in, and a past that fills the approaching figure with misplaced shame. They do not move to meet him. They are a pillar of stillness in the howling wind, watching him come with eyes cold as Kovan winter. A thousand years apart and Jove will not take a single step towards him.

(They are not sure they can. Not without their facade cracking open and letting the bitter hurt and anger gush from them like blood from a killing wound.)

Magnus comes with anger in his eyes and accusations and demands on his tongue. He has chosen he again and he speaks as if he has been betrayed, as if they owe him something. Their skin bristles with anger, storm raging beneath their skin. “Stolen nothing?” They repeat, eyes narrowing. Their voice is steady, but sharp with ire. The Ouranian angel’s anger was a cold thing, restrained, but unmistakable in its intensity. “You ripped the last piece of leverage we had from our worlds, Magnus.” His name weighs heavy on their tongue, bitter with betrayal. “It no longer matters how it came into our hands, now that you have torn it from them. You left us no choice but retaliation.”

Jove remembers in perfect detail how the prophecy came into their possession - the chaos that followed Penelope’s execution, a rare moment of opportunity seized - and maybe, had Magnus made a different choice all those years ago, they might have shared those secrets with him. But now, that memory belongs to Jove and Persia alone. Magnus repeats his betrayal, steals secrets from their worlds, and then seeks them out to ask for more. He is a fool if he thinks he will get it.

[archxngelic]

cevenus‌:

DATE: Late Aries, 998 A.L. / Evening of the Princesses’ Ball

LOCATION: The Crystal Palace, Tsuki

STATUS: Open

Away from the din of celebration, the balcony air carries tendrils of lingering perfumes. Notes of imported jasmine and peach, magnolia and lemongrass; they have rubbed themselves into the atmosphere, like ghosts to the evening wind, and mingle strangely with the scent of receding snow. Spring is slowly rising. Life will begin, finally, to lift itself once more from the crevices of a hibernating world - something Cedric finds he’s looking forward to.

Unsurprisingly, he prefers the warmer season. He comes from molten sulfur and sun, from a world of hissing heat and brilliance. Cold settles uncomfortably about him - and this winter in particular is heavier and longer-lasting than what Tsuki expects each year. It feels distinctly unpleasant. 

No. Hungry. 

The sucking chill nips at Cedric like a mouth, and the sensation unsettles him. He’s felt awry since Magnus’s arrival, since Selene and Endymion left for Kova, since the Silver Army’s deployment to the borders. Perhaps, it is for this reason he has slipped away from the ball. There were, all at once, too many hands on his body, too many mouths against his ear, too many sets of pretty eyes exhausting him of grace.

The mortals will never not adore him. He has made it so: convinced them he is a cornucopia of elegant excess, that he is made of nothing but pearls and starlight.

But tonight, Cedric feels ransacked. He is thinking about a prophet’s mouth, whispering chaos; and of Ysra’s, the angry twist of it as she bit down on his neck earlier; and of Ilo’s, bared tonight in dizzy, sweet violence - but not for him. For her. The dark queen; the pale vipress; the mortal Queen of Paol.

Something shifts behind Cedric. Footsteps; an exhale; the sound of crinkling fabric.

“You’re missing the dance,” he offers quietly. It is a greeting, and a curt farewell.

Leave me be.

The ball is a world of glitz and hollow shine, so much like kingdoms it stands for. It is not a world that Jove ever has or ever will belong to, one that they rejected long ago, just as it had rejected them. They relish in their incongruity; they are the dark tarnish on this silver world, the crack in the crystal. Still, amusing as it is to disturb the carefully crafted world, they are here for answers, for confrontation. They have only left Persia’s side (and how empty their hand feels without hers in it) to do so, and they are determined to make it worth it. The one they search for has remained as of yet hidden, perhaps still choosing isolation somewhere, hidden away, but there are other angels here, members of Selene’s court mingling with the mortal blue-bloods.

There - a gleam of Venusian gold catches their eye through a window, and with a hint of a smile, they follow. Cedric. A would be ally, born from a world of fire, all alone out in the cold air of the balcony, oblivious to the uninvited guests here to darken his glimmering world. A glint of chaos in their eye, they follow, stepping out into the early spring chill to join Venus’ angel on the balcony.

“I’ve done all the dancing I desire to,” they tell him with a flash of pearl-white teeth. Their tone is light, verging on friendly, even, but with an unmistakable edge. “It is, however, a much greater surprise to find that you are absent from the festivities, ambassador,” they say, a bite to the final word. Nonchalantly, they glide across the balcony to lean against the railing, as if they were simply here for no greater purpose than to take in the cool breeze on their marble skin. Their face however, with eyes peering sharp and inquisitive from their serene expression, betrays their facade, hinting at greater intentions. “Or perhaps you’ve lost your taste for such things while I’ve been away?”

[archxngelic]

oncehallowed‌:

FORGED IN FRIGID SPACE , they had both known nothing but loneliness , an empty , pervasive hunger to be something more — and so , they were. together , they had become something foreboding , something sanguinary; an omen of bloodshed , destruction slinking after them like a shadow , always at their heels. the monsters lurking in the darkness in every child’s hushed story. even there , at the ball , they were a warning sign: twirling in time across a shining dance floor , they moved together with preternatural grace , the whisper of an eternity spent together , the gleam of their eyes hinting of what was to unfold in the palace that night. persia and jove , yes , they were unmistakable to the few in attendance who knew them — and to the mortals who didn’t , they were a siren’s call , a vicious whirlpool of allure and danger.

head tilting towards jove , their soft words warmed the frigid scape of persia’s heart , lit a fire in the cavernous halls between her ribs; these mortals knew not who they were , but they would soon. they would learn it , as their ancestors had learned it , palaces reduced to ash and dust , the smear of scarlet death left across their proud populace. “   oh , my love. this time , we will be unstoppable.  ” persia swore , voice a silken promise , ghosting the edges of ferality in her anticipation.

the lilting tones of the waltz drifted off into nothingness , but as dancing couples parted , persia did not quite let go of her lover. there was a light in her eyes , a flame dancing in the darkness , ready to raze the crystal palace without a moment’s hesitation. smoke the fox out of his hole , if you would , and send the rest of them screaming and burning. “   i wonder where our dear friend is lingering , hm ?   ”a hand rose to caress jove’s sharp cheekbone , claws glinting in the warm light they stood beneath. “   let us find him; i’m sure he’ll be overjoyed at our reunion.   ” maybe afterwards , they would find themselves in kova. how quaint.

Jove leaned into their love’s touch, and then brought their hand to hers and guided it to their mouth to place a feather-light kiss on the back of her hand, eyes not leaving hers. How they loved the unmistakable spark in her eyes, a lovely omen of what was to come, saved for them and them alone.

“A reunion is direly overdue,” they lamented, almost meaning it. For a thousand years, they had been trying to let the gaping wound that was Magnus’ betrayal heal, trying to accept his reasons for turning his back on them, for not standing by their side as he was meant to. They were children of the dark and cold, of the wild void of deep space, meant to stand together, meant to stand against Selene and their angels. Pluto’s angel had his reasons - perhaps the only sharp bit of secret knowledge in Jove’s possession not shared with their love - but even they only did so much to dull the sharp bite of betrayal. Again, he had chosen Selene and her court over those he had once claimed to love. Again. “There is much I long to ask him”

For so long the thought of Magnus had brought them sadness and anger in equal measures; the bitterness of his treachery mixed with an emptiness born of longing for an old friend. But now, with the old wound once again ripped open, nearly as red and angry as it had ever been, the thought of him came with nothing but bright Ouranian anger, carefully contained, stoked by Persia’s anger, made all the more bitter by his attempts to see past his duplicity.

Jove let Persia’s hand fall, though they still kept their palm securely on her hip, and in a single graceful movement, they took a crystal flute of some pale-colored, sparkling, mortal drink from a passing mortal server who dared get close, perhaps eager for a glimpse of divinity. “We will find him, my dearest, and what he took from us,” they promised, and without having even sipped the liquid within it, let the glass drop from their hand. It shattered against the floor, breaking the soft silence between songs with a bright, satisfying sound, and sending sparkling shards and bubbly liquid splashing onto the ankles of anyone standing too close. If the pair had not yet caught the attention of everyone in the room yet, they certainly had now. But Jove’s sharp smile was for a moment longer Persia’s alone.

“Even if we have to turn this place to dust to do it.”

[whiteknightendymion-blog]

‘we are not the same, and never will be.’

With cold, blank eyes, Endymion regarded the celestial before him with uncertain suspicion. Yes, she was a celestial, but one that could not be comparable to someone like he or Selene. He wondered what it would be like to be them - void of a kingdom such as the Silver Millennium, traveling in space with nothing but a loved soul by their side. 

Yet, perhaps, that was all they needed to feel complete. This - loyalty, dedication to one being - he could understand, if not anything else. Endymion stood at the precipice of his love for Selene, ready to dive into unknown depths for her at a moment’s notice. Perhaps that was the closest to unbridled chaos that he would ever get, and maybe Jove, in all their wild glory, was far similar to him than he ever imagined. 

However, Jove sided with a pitiful, defeated queen - one Endymion could never swear loyalty to with Selene by his side. 

“Yes…I believe you’re right. And I believe,” Endymion paused, “that it is best it stay that way.”

[archxngelic]

oncehallowed‌:

PERSIA WORE OPULENCE WELL; swathed in rich silks and glittering jewels , embroidery done in thread that outshone the sun itself , she relished in being nothing short of perfect. it would be difficult to assume she didn’t belong in attendance , were you of the unsuspecting sort , unable to catch the feral , hungry glint in her eye , or the dangerous knife’s edge of her smile. and who better to serve as her date for the ball than jove ? with persia clutched to their arm , together they painted a glorious portrait of grandeur , seduction , and best of all: vengeance.

diseased little rat that magnus was , persia would not say she’d been shocked to find he’d stolen their possession , but oh , how her rage had consumed her , waves of her fury still lapping at her heels , even as she shot her lover the most genuine of smiles. being back on earth once more brought its own set of memories — nehelenia’s war , their time together on the battlefield , bloodied and vicious and brutal , twin heartbeats serving as a battle cry; her own rush of suffocating fright when jove’s life had been threatened at their defeat. never again , persia had sworn to herself , as they’d been exiled to the far reaches of outer space , never again will i allow harm to come to them. she would sooner let herself be eviscerated. and even sooner , still , would she see to it that magnus faced the same fate. nothing would grant her more happiness —

nothing , of course , except the undivided attention of her heart. their tug away from her hold had caught her awareness and parted her lips in silent question , head tilting just barely; the shift from murderous to inquisitive was swift and unavoidable , especially where jove was concerned. it was impossible to feel so connected to another without being so curious , and this , persia considered , was a blessing: only her heart would see her this way , still sometimes as eager and malleable as when they’d first found her howling on frigid neptune. their sweeping bow caused her pout to curve in something far sweeter than the initial grin she’d wore , free of the hunger for retribution , if only for a moment.

“   who else but you , my eternity ?   ” slipping her cloak from her shoulders , it met a similar fate to jove’s , likely to be forgotten by the end of the night as one slim hand took jove’s , its twin finding purchase upon their shoulder. a step closer into the minuscule amount of space between them , and then another , until they were almost too close — and persia greatly disbelieved there would ever be such a thing as too close — , mouth pressing to their jawline in a quick token of affection as they fell into step. what more could persia crave than the sweet taste and jove’s lips , and the prospect of blood being spilled ?

Jove would have sworn on their life that there was no light in the solar system more radiant than Persia’s smile, no sound more lovely than her voice, calling Jove ‘eternity’. A thousand times over, they’d heard her say it, and without fail it made something soft and warm blossom in their chest as if it were the first time. The smile Jove gave her in return was one rarely seen on their features, one saved solely for her - gentle and warm, even sweet - their deliberate, chilly exterior swept away by the tidal wave of their affection. They had a greater purpose here than dancing, yes, but for a moment, it was so blissfully easy to forget, overtaken by the glow of their love in the light, the feeling of her hand fitting perfectly into theirs.

She stepped nearer, and as she did Jove wrapped their hand on the small of her back, curling around the curve of her waist and pulling her close. Her perfect lips brushed their jaw as they fell into step, and in return they bent their head to return their gesture in a brief kiss to her temple. And then they were moving as one - gliding together across the floor and into the light, where their true nature would be unmistakable.

Jove could do this for a thousand eternities. The two of them moving in perfect unison, Persia’s passion and Jove’s precision melding into one just as it did in the heat of battle, even their breathing in perfect synchronization, bodies fitting perfectly together so that Jove could scarcely tell where they ended and she began. What a pair they made, Persia in her decadent opulence and Jove in simple elegance, complementing each other perfectly. They were sure to attract attention, yes, but then, in the music, Jove was thinking of no one but their love. Their eyes fell closed and the whole world fell away. There was only her, the music, and solid earth beneath their feet - the only reminder of where they were, and the slight that had brought them there. “I’ve missed this,” they whispered in Persia’s ear as they swayed together, delighting for a moment longer in the simple bliss of dancing with the one they loved.

In a moment or two, the song would come to an end, and then the real work would begin. When Jove smiled at her this time, it was with an edge of anticipation, eager to take back what was theirs, for their moment to come once more at long, long, last.

[archxngelic]

Join Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer

“Aren’t you tired?” they ask, genuine sympathy on their marble features. They know what it is, perhaps more than anyone else he knows, to devote yourself completely to someone, to twine your life inextricably to theirs, to damn the consequences and follow them wherever they may lead you. The difference is this: Jove’s devotion is returned. Jove and Persia will choose each other over everything, over and over and over again. Selene will never choose her guard over her kingdom, if she feels anything for him at all, it is nothing like what he feels for her - what Persia and Jove feel for each other. Yes, Jove would wait an eternity for her love without a heartbeat’s hesitation, but Persia, the other half of their soul, would never ask it.

“Aren’t you tired of waiting for her? Waiting on her?” They lean towards him, gaze piercing. “You know it’s not going to change, do you not? As long as she is The Moon Princess, as long as she has her empire, she is never going to let herself be yours.” They don’t wait for him to try and argue, but he has to know it’s true, that Selene will never get off her silver throne and meet him as an equal. Not unless -

“But if you help us, all of that can change. No kingdoms to stand between you, no duty to bind her, finally free to do as she wishes. I won’t ask you to stand against her in the battlefield, only for a whisper here and there. Just enough to turn the tide. I swear on my life that not another soul will ever know, and that if you do this thing no harm will come to you or your princess when all of this is over. You don’t have to answer right now, but please Endymion, think about it.”

“I’m not asking you to betray her, I’m offering you a chance to set her free.”

[archxngelic]

Ruling requires that your hands be drenched in blood.

They stood at the Bone Queen’s side, looking out over the battlefields of Kova, a mess of wrought earth - cracked open and flooded, still smelling of smoke and blood - damaged as could only be done by celestial warfare. Nehelenia’s forces, Jove and Persia among them, had won this fight, but not without heavy losses of their mortal legions. Not without a stark reminder that resources were beginning to wear thin, and the times to come would be long and bloody before they would be victorious.

Solemnly, Jove nodded in agreement. Much of the blood on Nehelenia’s hands was blood on their own. They had spilled the blood of countless mortals in the Bone Queen’s name, until the battlefields were dripping with red, and they had done so with neither hesitation nor remorse. They were a being built for destruction, it was written into their nature, natural as breathing. In some ways, Nehelenia, with her fierce eyes and her mind for strategy, was the same. In others, she could not be more different. Jove had never imagined themself anything like the mortals, Nehelenia had once lived among them, believed she was one of them. They did not pretend that they could comprehend what she had lived through - the things she had lost and what more she may lose before all of this came to its bloody end.

“It does,” they agreed, placing a hand on her shoulder. They were not one that took naturally to the task of comforting, but Nehelenia was not a being that could be comforted. Instead, they offered understanding, and more, a certainty that they would not fail, that Cosmos’ daughter would fall at the hands of those she’d forsaken. “But it will be worth it, in the end, when this world is yours,” they said, their voice full of conviction, eyes hard with certainty, “I swear it.”

[archxngelic]

Date & Time: Late Aries, 998 A.L. / Evening

Location: The Crystal Palace, Tsuki Kingdom

Event: The Princess’ Ball

Status: Closed to @oncehallowed​

Two figures glided through the shadows of the ball - watching, waiting - uninvited guests. They had slipped past the guards, features obscured by travel cloaks, their true nature as of yet concealed. If anyone has noticed their presence here they had not made it known, letting them drift among the crowd. Jove paid their surroundings close attention, grey eyes darting around the room, carefully evaluating the proceedings, noting anyone whose gaze lingered upon them and their love. Persia stood at their side, holding tight to their arm, a familiar gesture, natural as breathing. She shone in Earth’s light, lovely as Jove had ever seen her. How difficult it was, to pay attention to any of this mortal world, when she stood at their side, so much more beautiful than any Crystal Palace that Selene or her angels could ever dream to build.

It was a strange thing, being surrounded by strangers again after nearly a thousand years after nearly a millennia of her and only her. Even as recent as their return was, they were almost nostalgic for what they’d left behind - the familiar void, and no one to concern them but their love - the two of them alone at the edge of the solar system. Almost, but not quite.

They had come here with a purpose. To retrieve precious thing, a piece of knowledge, stolen by one who had once been a friend (and whom they had dared to hope would be again) and brought here where it did not belong, into the hands of the Moon Princess. They were here to take action, to take back what was theirs, what the two of them had claimed and hidden neatly away nearly one thousand years ago. Finally, their moment had come, their long exile finally come to an end. There was much to be done, and soon.

But there was also luxury long forsaken. Everything from the rich atmosphere filling their lungs to the gentle gravity tethering them to the marble floors to the more traditional excesses of Lunar Court, fine food and drink, elegant music, was something they had been without for a very, very long time. Jove was rarely a creature of indulgence, but after nine hundred and ninety-eight years without any of it, they allowed themself a hint of enjoyment in this shimmering world. Enjoyment that came partially from knowing that none of it would last. To steal the prophecy was to open old would, re-ignite old flames, to make the delicate peace more fragile still.

A new song began, an old one, a waltz even Jove recognized despite having gone so long with no music but the lovely sound of Persia’s laugh. They glanced at the dance-floor, then at their love, and made a decision. They had come here to make an impression, had they not? The corners of their mouth quirked upward into a smile as they shed their cloak and draped it over a chair, briefly disentangling their arm from Persia’s grasp to do so. They took a step back, placed one arm behind their back, and leaned forward in a deep, elegant bow. They straightened their back, and with a glint of excitement on their marble features, extended to Persia a pale, graceful hand.

“My love, may I have this dance?”

[islapevensie-blog-deactivated20]

♚ drabble list - send me one, or two, or three ♚

[seraphimslayer]

jasperoro‌:

islapevensie-blog‌:

Here’s a shorter drabble list, as I find the massive one is a bit repetitive. If there’s nothing that you want to send here, just send it as a request.

Amuse Me: I will write a funny drabble about my character trying to cheer yours up.

Accept me: I will write a drabble about my character accepting yours or vice versa.

Break Me: I will write an angsty drabble about our characters.

Call Me: I will write a drabble about my character asking for yours (be it on the brink of death, in a battlefield, knocking on the front door wounded; feel free to specify). 

Comfort Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character comforting yours or vice versa.

Drink Me: I will write a drabble about my character taking shots with yours.

Dominate Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character dominating yours or vice versa.

Enamor Me: I will write a fluffy drabble about my character trying to woo yours.

Embarrass Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saying or doing something embarrassing to himself or to your character.

Fight Me: I will write a drabble out my character fighting with/or against yours.

Forgive Me: I will write a drabble about my character forgiving yours or vice versa.

Get Me: I will write a drabble about my character saving yours.

Humor Me: I’ll write a funny drabble about our characters.

Hustle Me: I’ll write a drabble about our characters hustling.

Humiliate Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character doing something humiliating to yours.

Haunt Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character watching over yours (as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise; feel free to specify).

Hunt with Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character and mine on a hunt together.

Invite Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character asking your character to do something.

Join Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving your character an offer (be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity).

Kill Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character killing yours.

Love Me: I’ll write a fluffy drabble about our characters.

Mourn Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character mourning your character’s death.

Nurse Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character healing yours.

Offer Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character giving yours a gift.

Paint Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character drawing a picture of yours.

Quiet Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to calm yours down (be it from crying, from lashing out; feel free to specify). 

Remember Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character trying to get yours to remember them.

Raise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character resurrecting yours. 

Reunite Me: I’ll write a drabble of our characters reuniting.

Shag Me: I’ll write a dirty drabble about our characters.

Surprise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character surprising yours or vice versa.

Save Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character saving yours or vice versa.

Shoot Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character shooting yours or vice versa.

Tell Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character confessing something to yours (be it a love confession, a secret; feel free to specify).

Text me: I’ll write a drabble about my character texting yours or your character texting mine.

Trick Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character tricking your character.

Unbind Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines (be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse; feel free to specify).

Value Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character telling yours how they feel about them.

Wed Me: I’ll write a drabble about our character under the subject of wedlock (be it my character proposing to yours, or marrying yours; feel free to specify).

X Me: I will write whatever it is that you wish.

Yahoo Me: I’ll write a drabble about our characters celebrating something (feel free to specify).

Zip Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character dressing mine, or the other way around (this can also be used for shutting them up as well, so feel free to specify).

Torture Me: I’ll write a drabble about your character torturing mine or vise versa.

Take Me: my character will kidnap yours

Leave Me: my character will leave your character behind.

Deny Me: my character will either deny your character’s advances or deny them a ’happy ending.’

Lick Me: My character will lick yours in any specified place or manner.

Suck Me: My character will suck on any body part of your character

Tease Me: My character will tease yours, whether in a friendly or a sexual manner

Please Me: My character will do anything to please yours

Bite Me: My character will bite yours on any part of their body

Blindfold Me: My character will blindfold yours in order to have their fun

Meet Me: My character is meeting yours either for the first time or just causally.

Greet Me: My character will greet yours, either at the door, at work, or somewhere else.

Slap Me: My character will slap yours. In the sexual manner, or of anger. specify.

Call Me: My character will call your character for whatever reason.  Hug Me: My character will hug yours. Either by surprise or for a specific reason.

Give Me: My character will give yours a gift  Tickle Me: My character will tickle yours ruthlessly. 

[archxngelic]

I’ve come to offer you something. The destruction of our mutual enemy.

Jove regarded the mortal knight with cool curiosity, their sharp grey eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the offer. The knight was an unexpected visitor in the Bone Queens Kovan abode, once again the stronghold of Nehelenia’s forces, but a welcome one all the same. Jove rarely troubles themself with mortals and their affairs, but this one, a white knight stained red, a former plaything of Selene and her Court of angels, intrigued them.

An alliance between them could not be an easy one. Jove did not care what became of the loyal mortal kingdoms when Selene’s shining empire fell at long last - they would be content to tear this planet apart and watch their love drown the ruins - but for a time, Sunisa’s alliance could be invaluable.

The secrets she must have heard, perched at her angels’ sides, living in their delicate, shimmering world. A world they had both rejected. A world they were both ready to see turn to dust.

A cold smile graced the archangel’s lips, and with a movement of their wrist they gestured for the knight to sit and join them at the table, inviting her to share in their destruction.

[unerwunschtemoved-blog]

ＲＥＩＧＮ  ＳＥＡＳＯＮ  ＴＷＯ  ＱＵＯＴＥＳ

I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t want to repeat history.

Out of all the people you could have slept with, did it have to be one of my ladies? One of my closest friends?

I am with child. Our child, at last!

I’ve come to offer you something. The destruction of our mutual enemy.

Cold passion mixed with your warm blood was to bind you to me. My spirit is inside you as yours is inside mine.

Ruling requires that your hands be drenched in blood.

You are my husband and my king.

You crushed the rebellion by yourself.

If we die, it is at her hands. And if we live I will never forgive her for this.

I’m saying that should anything happen to either of us I hope that you’ll remember me not as the man who lied or betrayed you, I hope you’ll remember me as the man who would have cherished you if he’d had the chance.

And real love never fades, not truly.

Just know whatever happens, this is not the end I dreamed for us.

I refuse to surrender. My reign will not end without a fight.

Whose blood concerns you more, your husband or your lover’s?

All that stands between him and the crown is my head.

Whatever happens to him, it’s over. I will never see him again.

You say that as if somehow, I’ve won. But how can it be over when he’s still ingrained in your heart? You will always see him just as I will always see you. Naked, in each others’ arms.

Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Both of us constantly wondering what the other is up to?

Our love will die here.

Just don’t expect a fond farewell from me. Or my trust. Ever again.

Do not test my power and do not tempt my fury.

If I’m as responsible as you say, I will never forgive myself.

I never imagined you’d kill him by breaking his heart.

The truth of your betrayal was the last thing that he heard before he collapsed.

I will spill blood to defend what’s mine.

You are a necessary evil whose orbit I can’t seem to escape.

But you have to know, that no matter your choices, you still have a husband who would do anything to make you happy.

I opened my heart to a liar.

Do we trust each other? 

Build a future controlled by you, not the changeable heart of a woman.

I’m sorry we’ve come to this.

But if you sincerely believe that your best path to healing is at his side, I will not stand in your way.

I have to fight every instinct I have pulling me toward you. When I’m near you I am aware of every breath you take and when I am away even the wind in the trees reminds me of you.

You say that I can be free, open to another. But without you my heart is closed as tight as a fist.

Because I love you. And one of us should be happy.

There are those who merely believe they have power, and there are those who actually have it.

Oh, is that caring? It sounds to me like a man trying to tighten his grip on a woman.

Congratulations, you’ve used your knowledge of the heart’s noblest emotion to manipulate and destroy someone.

What we once had was so natural. I miss how easy it was. We’d make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms like branches growing together.

I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’m sleepwalking and I don’t know how to wake up.

If your heart wants to sleep, let it. Many things can be forced out of duty, but not the heart.

Look where that love has brought us.

I wanted to one kind of King, and then I was forced to be another. Now I cannot go back.

You are my life and I love you.

I feel this nation is burning and I am the man who lit the match.

I love you. You do know that, no matter what I’ve done.

Are you prepared to die for this marriage?

I have lost all faith in you and the man I thought you were.

Oh spare me your lies and excuses! You’re not the man that I fell in love with and you’re not the King I want to rule beside. You are a coward!

I gave you a chance, I waited for the man I fell in love with to return, but that man is dead and I am finished waiting for him!

Do not seek to take before I can give.

No matter what happens, I love you.

Unfortunately, my husband isn’t giving me what I want, so I’ve come to ask you instead.

I need to handle this on my own and to do it my way. What I need from you is to be patient and to believe in me.

Take a stand, my love. I’ll take it with you.

The word can be dark and uncertain and cruel. The only thing that matters is that we face it together. No matter what happens, you are my light.

[millenniumrpg-closed-blog]

✶ AT A GLANCE

AGE & BLOOD : Age unknown, Celestial

ORIGIN : Ouranos

RESIDENCE : Outer space

ROLE : Protector of the Solar System

JOVE is a celestial being, ruled under the planet Ouranos. They dwell in the outer reaches of space with Persia, guarding and fighting against external forces that may threaten the wellbeing of the Solar System. Given the violent and difficult nature of their duties, they are endowed with particularly strong powers. They wield the earth and sky, graced with the ability to split worlds apart.

✶ PORTRAIT

What are you? A chaos. Terrible beauty will always recognize itself – so you stand before mirrors, a lovechild of vanity and violence, ferocity settled deep in the angelic dips of your marble face. You are the creature they forged from forgotten pieces of Heaven: cold, unforgiving, the bite of a burning light. Cosmos had paused to consider you, when you first rose from the ammonia and methane, smoother than a storm - she must have seen it, sensed it: your capacity for destruction, growling under a quiet, solemn gaze. You are strong, certainly, but your lethality comes from your steadiness. Your control. You bear wrath and violence like a sculptor bears dust from the beaten stone, tempering it with a willful hand.

The other angels find you, in time. They come starved of love, maddened by solitude, out of mind with fury and helplessness. When you show them what they can do with their gifts, you mean for the magic to strengthen them. You mean to sew shut the wounds, reinforce their broken bodies, grant them a semblance of control over the immortality they have been sentenced to. Instead, you raise a beast, reared for war. In Neptune, you see chaos in its true form for the first time: the wilderness of it, the delicious seduction of bared fang and bloodied nails. So can you help it, when she tells you to let go? When she begs you to follow her? On the battlefield, you shed yourself, finally, of restraint; and you become the desolation Cosmos once foresaw: and how glorious it is, tearing holes in the atmosphere, splitting bedrock under the feet of foolish men. You’ll never know a delirium so sweet again. Even now, one thousand years later, as you stand shackled in punishment for your loyalty to Nehelenia, the taste of blood swims on your tongue. What are you? Condemned, and free for it.

✶ CONNECTIONS

PERSIA { lover; one soul in two bodies } : Who is to blame, for coaxing the other into such a terrible, lovely darkness? Perhaps they dragged each other into the abyss: the wild-eyed sea witch and her fallen angel, two vicious entities spiraling through a tunnel of blood and ice. Jove knows they are partially responsible for replacing Persia’s loneliness with rage, showing her what she is capable of, and ultimately driving her into war - but conversely, it had been sweet, maniacal Persia, standing at the precipice of hunger, beckoning Jove forward. In the end, Jove has realized it doesn’t matter. She is their love - and for her, Jove would swallow every star in the wake of their havoc. For now, the two of them have stayed quiet with bowed heads, dutifully defending Selene’s regime from a distance. However, at the first sign of smoke, Jove is prepared to burn the Moon Princess’s empire down alongside their lover.

MAGNUS { old friend; sympathetic towards } : Jove is more forgiving of Magnus for refusing to stand with them than Persia is; perhaps because they understand the guilt of cultivating something that thrashes out of your control, the need to see it to its bloody, bitter end. Jove is the only one to know the truth about Magnus’s irrevocable role in the War: the prophecy of devastation he bore Aleksander, murmuring hushed words of counsel and warning; and the madness he inadvertently instilled, potent enough to drive a mortal king to murder his own child and beget the reign of a merciless queen. Jove sees how his errors have haunted him to this day - and has resolved to remain kind to their friend. 

NAIYA { war enemies; an open wound } : Whether the Jupiter angel would like to believe it or not, there’s no doubt she belongs with them and Persia. The very essence of her power commands the same caliber of desolation - and she crackles with wasted energy. Naiya, of all of Selene’s angels, is most forgiving toward their war crimes, her sympathy born out of understanding. After all, wasn’t she driven to kill Levi in a moment of blind hatred? Wasn’t she scorned, too, by betrayal, when her love with slain by him, and Selene had done nothing but look away? Jove intends to use Naiya’s kindness to their advantage. Sympathy for the enemy, after all, is always the first seed of rebellion.

JOVE IS TAKEN BY AMES.

FACECLAIM : Elizabeth Debicki ( alt. Erika Linder, Agyness Deyn )

[millenniumrpg-closed-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS, AMES!

YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED FOR THE ROLE OF JOVE.

FROM THE ADMIN: The archangel is an extraordinarily interesting character: half-control and half-chaos; half-angel and half-demon. Cosmos herself had stopped to consider them when they erupted into existence - unable to immediately look away from their raw potential, their frightening capacity for destruction. You’ve done such an excellent job depicting this capacity - in your Jove, I see them in all their fearsome glory. I particularly love how deeply you explored the dynamics they share with Magnus, Persia, and Levi - this is a part of the lore that hasn’t been delved into in-game yet, and to see it come alive under your masterful writing was truly a joy! Welcome to the Silver Millennium. Please visit the CHECKLIST and message the main with your account within the next 24 hours.

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[dailymarvelqueens]

I guess the bigger you dream, the further you have to fall if you don’t get it, so it can be a bit of a scary thing to be that ambitious.