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How to Play
- Comment with your character and preferences.
- Mention if you'd rather play the guardian angel or the guarded.
- Tag others.
- Use the RNG to determine your fate.
Prompts
- Watching: You've been watching this person as long as both they and you have been in this world. Maybe over years, maybe suddenly, things aren't the same when you look at them.
- Guilt: You realized that these pesky emotions are growing and you know this is against everything you know to be true. Your kind cannot love, and even if you could, this is wrong. You have known this person their entire life and thinking of them as more is unacceptable.
- Terrible Angel: You're not angelic at all and fail neatly at almost all the benchmarks, but when it comes to the one you guard, you don't folly.
- Righteous Fury: Usually, angels must be removed and impassive. You see your charge mistreated, though, and you lose control.
- Relegated to Guardian Angelhood: You used to be much more important, of a greater choir of angel. Then, you screwed up and got pushed down into the ranks of guardian angel. It would be easy to be bitter towards your charge. You aren't, for some reason.
- Can't Be Seen: The person you care for the most can't see you. It's typical angel protocol, yet you can't help but want to make yourself noticeable.
- Affecting Your Work: Your growing and sometimes erratic emotions make your job harder. You're getting sloppy. You may even allow your charge to be hurt or allow yourself to be conspicuous.
- Jealousy: You saw your charge with someone else and it...it really ruffled your feathers. Maybe you lost your cool. Hopefully, that won't mean bad mojo for the other person involved. No one would be any wiser if you made their head more attractive to bird droppings, though.
- Kiss: Can you kiss someone when you technically have no lips? They might just feel a pleasant breeze; still, you're kissing them, and this is...nice.
- How They'd Like You to Look: You've decided to make yourself known to them, and you want your appearance to be to their liking.
- Inhabiting the Vessel They Love: A bit more sinister than the above, but also somewhat practical. They already love this body, anyway.
- Revealing Yourself: You're taking the big step and coming into their life as an actual, tangible presence. Of course, "I'm your guardian angel" rarely gets the response you hope.
- Stay with You: You promise that you'll stay by their side always, now as a physical companion.
- Confessions: No matter the costs, you're revealing your true feelings.
- Deciding to be More: It's dangerous, it's unheard of; however, both of you want to become more than just angel and charge.
- Intimacy Without a Corporeal Form: They know you're there even when you're not in human form, and they want to touch you. This can be a smut option, but it doesn't have to be.
- Intimacy With a Corporeal Form: You're beginning to learn what it's like to be intimate with them while you're in this new form. Again, this can be a smut option, but it doesn't have to be.
- Wings: Letting someone touch your wings is the ultimate show of trust and, in angel terms, one of the closest things you have to sexuality.
- Called to the Mat: Your higher-ups have learned of your sins. Now, you're on trial. Will you deny your charge?
- Not Officially Yours: Problem number one: you're in love. Problem number two: it's with some other angel's charge.
- Second Chance: As previously stated, most guardian angels are created for that one special person. However, some angels whose charges have died young are allowed a second chance. Will this new person ever replace your old?
- Protection: Now is time to do the guarding - by any means necessary, especially now, after realizing just what your charge means to you.
- Fallen: Because of your sins, you've lost favor. You've been stripped of your heavenly grace and you've fallen.
- Immortal: You must deal with the implications that your charge will die and you will be sent on to a new heavenly job.
- Failed: You didn't do enough. You let yourself slip, and now your charge is dying. They were more than just a charge, so you must do what you can to let their soul pass on in the most peaceful manner possible. But can you let go?
- CHOOSE YOUR OWN
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bakerstreet2019-10-09 07:29 am
Claire Redfield ✯ Biohazard (Resident Evil) ✩ OTA
Loki | Dogma
John Watson | BBC Sherlock | M/M
michael | judeo-christian mythology
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because I watched good omens recentlysomething set after the fall, with the two meeting and talking? Good with either, or even something else.]no subject
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The longer he gazed on creation, all that he had created into the vast distance, the more he felt bitter about the end of his duty. He had a notion that came and went of doing what God had, create angels. His mind also fluttered to a prophecy that God once spoke to him of another race, lesser than he, but made in God's image. Perhaps that should be his next duty?
Left without direction or purpose Lucifer stared pensive and uncertain. Fire curled through the feathers of his wings as the frustration raised higher inside. He felt it more often now, emotions, those other than the virtues. He had no names for them, no words to describe them but he still felt them growing inside as if a storm raged that could not be quelled. There he remained on the edge of Heaven contemplating creation and his future, as no other angel had yet to even fathom.
Lucifer Morningstar | Milton's Paradise Lost
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cw for torture, sorry for the tl;dr!
If Loki dissociates enough to watch it work upon him, he can almost appreciate the vicious beauty of it.
The Black Order's torture chambers are a theater, not a mere dungeon. Each new agony is a scene in a play that Loki fears will only end with his complete destruction. And after a set time, after the scene draws to a close, the stage lights go down, the house lights stay off, and he is left alone. That's the hardest time, because he knows Thanos will enter before long, with his soft-spoken words and brutal hands. Freedom is a lie. Accept that in your heart, Asgardian, and this can all be over. Which is a mockery, a bowdlerized imitation of pretending to care, and they both know it. It doesn't have to be real to be a tempting escape, though. That's what scares him the most.
The room is dark around him, and that's fine. Loki likes the dark now; it's better than the glare of light and fire. He's mostly numb, body drifting in and out of shock, only able to enumerate his injuries by distinguishing which parts of him will and won't move. His speeches to himself have consisted of don't break, don't break, don't break for a long while. His reason is sickly, but he's quite certain if they were done with him they'd have simply jettisoned him into space. It follows, then, that he is still of some use to them, or they think he will be, if they can complete the process they've begun. He has something they want. He has value.
Don't break, the mantra is silent, repeated with each breath in and out, but waiting for Thanos shreds every nerve he has left, and before long the thought that he has value becomes does anyone but Thanos value him? and he feels the yawning void he fell through opening up inside his chest. Maybe he is wrong. Maybe he was simply made to be used.
Don't break becomes a desperate don't let me break, and though he is a god, connected in some esoteric way to Yggdrasil, he's not sure who he's crying to. Himself, perhaps, but that's a closed loop, doomed to failure. Anyone who would hear him, then. Anyone who would give a damn about a proud man clinging to the last threads of his sense of self, watching them snap one by one. Someone, please, help...
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Still when the clear call for help came he started to focus on listening. It was the Pride that stood as a wall against the pressure that moved him to act. Space, time, and even enclosed spaces were no barrier to Lucifer. Even if they had been he would not have relented to them. He couldn't say exactly why he was answering even as he manifested in the space.
A flash of fire heralded his arrival in the chamber. Quickly, it faded to a dim glow, white and pale like his skin and hair. His multicolored wings brightened with fire as they settled against his back. He knew a torture chamber when he saw one. After all, he and his host lived in a virtually limitless torture chamber constructed by his creator. With no torturers present he turned his attention to the victim. The presence here was a familiar one though just off enough from his own experience to be unclear.
Pain poured forth on so many levels from the man before him. It moved him to pity or sympathy, he could not tell which when he reached out with his mind and forced the physical pain to fade into a dull hum for the tortured.
"You called to my presence." He spoke quiet but firmly and curious as to why he, of all beings had been called by this one.
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There are no more valkyries. They all died a long time ago.
The difference between Loki and an angel of any kind is that he is much more mutable and corporeal, and what happens to his body can make terrible changes in his brain. He's a mess right now, skin half pale Aesir, half Jotun blue, and while his body heals fast and he is not bleeding, there are almost certainly some broken bones in there somewhere. He has not, for once, been left bound, though he's not wearing a stitch. Both eyes are red.
He blinks up at him mutely, unwilling to speak to a hallucination, but when the pain dulls that tells him this is real on some level. He rolls to one side and gathers an arm against himself as if to at least sit up, realizes he's going to need more time to gather the wherewithal for that, and instead merely angles his chin up to see the man before him better.
"I...did," he says, because he knows he was calling, even if he wasn't sure who he was calling to. An idea, perhaps. A hope of stubborn endurance and defiance. "Yes. Yes, I did. I didn't...know if anyone would hear."
"I am Loki," he says, something kindling in his heart just because someone heard him. "If I am to die, let me die as myself, not a tool for this butcher. That is all I ask."
And now you know my name.
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The declaration of dying as oneself solidified the angel's position. This being was worth helping if only because it sounded as if he faced a tyrant. Tyrants were something Lucifer wiped from the Earth despite claims of the righteous that the tyrannical were acting on his orders.
"Lucifer, the Morningstar." He reached out and gingerly touched Loki's shoulder to better assess what might need repaired. A being that could not stand was not on that could die as themselves, if it was death that would come. "I am the King of Hell."
He chose the human terms because Loki, as he knew him, was a god of the humans on his Earth. It seemed the right term to use. "I can heal your body but it will not be a pleasant experience."
Lucifer was not particularly made for healing, not like some of the other angels were. He could create, which meant forcing things back to their place, mending them with the fire of the beginnings of the universe, but it would suffice to eliminate the damage.
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Then again, maybe it's only a small wonder that he would react that way to reassurance that he's been listened to. Part of his problem in Asgard was he had to scream before anyone paid him attention.
'King of Hell' confuses him, and he studies him for a moment, trying to reconcile this with what he knows of Helheim. Luckily, he's paid attention to Midgard and its pantheons that are not his own. "The...the angel," he says after a moment. "The firstborn angel, that humans sometimes call the Devil?"
He pushes himself upright, sitting up in place at least, if somewhat unsteadily, and he laughs softly. "Of course. Of course. They started calling me the Norse version of you in anthropology texts in the last few decades. If anyone were going to come to me...yes."
His grasp of Lucifer's backstory is somewhat tenuous, but 'rebel' and 'tempter' are pretty consistent, and not necessarily objectionable to the god of lies. "I haven't had many pleasant experiences lately," he tells him. "One more dreadful one shouldn't make a difference. Please. If you will."
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He let out a discontented sigh. "I am associated with anyone who will not drop to a supplicant knee on command." He had long since lost count of the men and deities who had been pressed under his umbrella over the centuries.
"I would lay down." Lucifer instructed because he knew that Loki might lose consciousness briefly from the force. Adding a cracked skull to the injuries would not make the process faster.
While he waited for the other to lay back he laid silence over the room. Screams were not unknown in a dungeon but Loki had been near unconsciousness, or so it seemed, when he arrived. Blood curdling screams might be out of place. The angel had no desire to deal with the captors while mending the victim's wounds.
Once Loki was in position he started. All four wings and his arms turned to fire as hands pushed to the other being's chest. He read what should be from the body, forced bones into thier place and reintegrated broken ends through the sheer force of raw power. He moved from major wounds to minor ones, until the body was whole again. Once the bodily damage was cared for Lucifer drained away the exhaustion. He could not take Loki the way he had come in, they would have to leave through the front door. Better a clear headed companion than an exhausted one.
Red marks remained on the chest from his hands, clear sign of the incredible power that had just coursed through Loki. They would fade with time. The fire died away returning the room to its prior pale glow. Lucifer waited patiently for the prisoner to regain whatever composure he needed.
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He lies down on his back and presses his palms against the floor, eyes shutting against the blaze of light at once. Loki is a creature of contradictory natures, half elemental fire and half Jotun ice. The part of him that is Logi the fire-god leaps to respond, but the ice, the Jotun soul, writhes in terror and pain. There are screams, as Lucifer clearly expected there to be, from a voice already near-wrecked with screaming. That they quiet quickly into quieter groans and whimpers is a testament to how much he's already withstood. Gods can live through a lot of abuse.
Mercifully, it's over before long. He lies still except for the trembling as his exhaustion is drained away. The mental trauma will linger a while, but Loki is Loki, and capable of pushing it aside to attend to the business at hand. He touches one of the red palmprints with his fingertips and seems surprised to find it doesn't sting like a burn. It just is.
He sits up gingerly, gritting his teeth against pain that doesn't come, and takes several deep breaths before he feels stable enough to speak.
"Thank you." That's the first thing. One minds one's manners when dealing with a being who's just saved one's life.
And then he rises, conjuring up clothing in the same motion, so that he's armor-clad by the time hes on his feet. Normally he would be in green and gold, but right now everything is matte black. "I cannot kill him in a one on one fight, but I'll wager I could blow up this ship and everything on it before he can stop me."
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"You are welcome." Lucifer would not normally respond but manners are manners and despite everything he might be he is a staunch believer in etiquette. Lucifer was still staring at the door listening both to the god in the room with him and whatever was outside.
"There are few things I cannot kill." Lucifer spoke flatly. He wasn't sure if he was offering for the benefit of the tortured or because he just wanted to scorch a tyrant into ashes because his own torturer was outside his reach for the moment. "If you wish for them to scream I would be your retribution."
And that was a hell of an offer, literally. Lucifer understood torture and how to force years of it into a single action, millions of years of burning torture of his own allowed for him to be an expert at applying flames to create unending pain.
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He shakes his head. "But even now he's taking this ship from planet to planet and culling the population. I've seen it."
He trails off, because it doesn't sound like Lucifer really needs more of a reason to want to annihilate the Mad Titan. Loki just wants it to be known that there are high stakes here. He is capable of being petty, he is proud and selfish and vengeful, but there is more than wounded vanity to be saved and avenged.
He steadies himself and moves to Lucifer's side. "I do want them to suffer, but it's more important that they be put beyond the ability to do this to anyone, any planet, any people, again."
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"I made the Universe." The words were a low and eerily quiet, wrath became tangible in his voice, the very space he occupied vibrated with hatred. "It is not his place to decide what should live."
This may be the only point he and God would ever agree on. Mortals had no place in determining who should live and die on a grandscale. Lucifer believed God had no place making that choice either, but that wasn't the point at the moment.
His eyes turned slowly to the god beside him. The dark blue eyes had become voids of darkness. If one could stare into the nothingness that existed before creation began this was what they would see. "You misunderstand the consequences of a creator becoming a destroyer."
Given this particular person's tyranny and destruction Lucifer would make an exception for a power he had not implemented, not even against God, to force someone into nothingness, to uncreate them. Nothing could resuscitate that type of death because nothing remained, even the atoms and subatomic particles themselves ceased to exist.
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The words Lucifer speaks are calm and matter of fact, but the tone of his voice sends every hair in Loki's body prickling up. He is a corporeal being with an instinctive fight or flight response and the 'flight' part is stirring and tugging at his metaphorical sleeve. Still, he meets Lucifer's eyes, unflinching. He has fallen through the Void, he has walked between worlds. Ginnungagap holds plenty of terror for him, but it's a terror he's faced before.
"For a great gift," he murmurs, "the Universe demands a great cost. That is cosmic balance and it is immutable. Perhaps I do not know you well enough to fear you sufficiently, but I do know that. If I am to be collateral damage, so be it. If he is allowed to live, he will go to Asgard sooner or later, and I am no longer welcome there but I would not see its people slaughtered in droves. It was home. Once."
"Tell me what you need from me, and you shall have it. Revenge and redemption are but pretty words in the face of a practicality such as this." He's got nothing to lose, is what he means.
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The calm of nothingness was settling on him. Lucifer had been created in nothingness and his birth created the something that would become the universe, both were part of him but his connection was to creation, not necessarily what existed before. However, like all beings there was a connection to that which they were born from.
"Lead me to him, kill whomever you wish of the others." Lucifer stepped toward the door. "Do you wish to feel his death?"
Lucifer touched the door, fire coursed over his hand and the door ceased to exist, just disappeared. For most beings the waves of wrongness that came off something being uncreated was disquieting, it caused a rip in existance that slowly folded in on itself and closed on command.
Standing in the doorway he looked back at his companion, waiting. "Do you require a weapon?"
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Gathering his frayed nerves, Loki finds reserves of strength he didn't expect. Being healed helps. Hope helps. So does being stubborn. "Ebony Maw is the only one who might put up a resistance worth worrying about," he says quietly, meaning that for Lucifer's information. Any one of the others in the Order are formidable in a physical fight, and Loki will be hard-pressed to contend with them en masse, but he can't imagine one like Corvus Glaive making even a dent in this being.
"He has magic. I'll handle him first," he says, and flicks both hands out, conjuring a pair of daggers. "When I have access to my power, I have all the weapons I need."
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Lucifer smirked at the appearance of the daggers. "Then we have that in common, but I feel this particular moment requires a more hands on approach."
He stepped out into the hall, fire flaring on his hands and wings. The angel carefully modulated that fire so it would burn at his discretion. Loki could lay hands to it and find no ill effect, for an enemy it would be as if they were thrown into a sun. He didn't often opt for close combat but there was a deep need to get his hands on Thanos and rip him limb from limb rather than the quickness afforded a spear or sword. If anything could sense the presence of magic or the divine or supernatural he would be like a beacon, the flash of a star coming into being in the darkness of space. He hoped it attracted them, maybe even frightened them. He was old, and there was a feeling to old power that resonated differently.
Sure, he could use his senses but in a maze of hallways the direct paths they afforded might not exist. He looked both directions in the hall and questioned. "Which direction?"
Eddie Kaspbrak | IT
Kitty Pryde / X-Men / m/f
Okumura Eiji | Banana Fish
Allen Walker + D.Gray-Man + ota
Jyn Erso | Rogue One | OTA
chloe decker — lucifer — ota
Cassia Andor | Rogue One | OTA
Nico Acosta | OC | M/F
Evie Montgomery | OC | OTA