quis-deus-similis

[quis-deus-similis]

random fact about the muse:

Michael has itchy wings.

When angels doubt God, they loose feathers from their wings. If the doubt grows into solid defiance, they can even loose their wings altogether.

Michael, in the way his mind and soul are made, is too innocent to properly doubt God, but his struggle to reconcile with the purpose of his creation, causes his wings to itch constantly, because there’s always feathers on the verge of falling out.

Usually, he tries to ignore the itchiness, or occasionally tries to subtly rub his wings against each other to alleviate the feeling. When he’s upset the itchiness can grow really irritating and worsen his hot temper. What gives him short moments of respite from the itching, is when someone preens his wings. Angels have small oil-glands at the shoulder-joints of their wings. Spreading the oil from there over the feathers and gently rubbing it into the irritated skin around the featherquills feels exceedingly good to him and helps him relax almost instantly. When done right, he’ll melt like butter in the sun and become a happy lil ball of feathers and cookie-crumbs.

[quis-deus-similis]

Maria.

“Ice cream is kinda… hmm… well… it’s cold, it can have fruit in it or be plain. It’s made out of a custard, I think.” She sat next to him, taking tiny bites of her own slice.

“Sometimes brother’s do things that we don’t understand. I’m sure he had his reasons. Now, as to WHY he did it… you’d have to ask him.” She sighed, patting his back. “Maybe we aren’t supposed to know how our brother’s think.”

Michael snorted at that, but offers her a tiny smile regardless.

“How do the people on the internet say? Sounds fake, but okay.”

Finally putting his feet down, the archangel took a moment to stretch his arms and wings, the white feathers quivering softly under the strain. Now feeling a lot lighter at heart, after having finally spoken to someone about this, his eyes shone a lot brighter, as he leaned back and explained himself to her.

“You see, humans have a lot more rights in a way, than angels do. It’s because you don’t have our powers. So to make us equal again, you get to decide more for yourself, than we do. As an angel, I am not allowed to question the design of God. And that includes Lucifer’s banishment. Furthermore, are we not allowed to keep secrets from God. And as I am the Will of God, I should know, why Lucifer fought with God and I should understand why he must be exiled over it. But instead, it only left me confused and betrayed.”

What he did not tell her, was that deep inside he felt that understanding Lucifer’s reasoning was the one thing, that would finally help him understand his own purpose in this world.

Where it hurts most

[quis-deus-similis]

Send me "I need an angel" for my muse to become your muse's guardian angel.

Alternative: My muse shows up, but is a demon instead.

[quis-deus-similis]

Maria.

“My brother killed our parents. In front of me.” Maria walked to her kitchen, ignoring the demon’s demands to simply kick the angel out of her home. “Chocolate or White?” She had the knife in her hand, trying to get his attention. “I think there’s some ice cream from when this place was a storage freezer. All the dates say it’s still good.” Gotta question what was actually IN that ice cream at some point. “Or I could get Dante to bring you some, provided he doesn’t eat all of it.”

“Then you maybe do not understand...”

His words seemed careless and dismissive, but there was a layer to his voice that spoke of a deep compassion for the pain, she must have felt. He would not dare assume, he understood, how she felt. But that didn’t change the fact, that he felt sorrow at the thought, of the pain she suffered.

Looking up with a confused crease to his brows, the angel tilted his head in a curious manner.

“What is an ice cream?”

Still munching away slowly on what cake he had on his plate, Michael’s face took on a thoughtful expression. He was an impulsive character and he hated to have to think before he said anything, especially, when it was about whether or not he could trust a person enough to talk with them. He was designed to trust and love unconditionally. So having doubts went against the very core of his nature. Eventually he sighed and looked at her, as he decided that he just wanted to trust her. If that demon in her, decided to use it against him, he could still burn them both. If he wasn’t so impulsive, he might have stopped to think about how this logic isn’t really good, but he didn’t. So he just decided to go for it.

“My brother... was one of the first beings, that spoke to me. He is not the eldest, but he was... he was the least self-absorbed, I guess. When I just came to be, he was bright and warm and caring. He was everything, I aspired to be. Then he fought with father and left. He didn’t even came to say good bye. I just learned from it, when a messenger told me to call to arms to fight off a group of rebellious angels that tried to stir uproar in the wake of his departure. I wish, he’d at least said good bye.”

As soon, as the words were out, his face immediately twisted in an expression of guilt an panic.

“D-don’t get me wrong! I-i don’t favor him! I love all of God’s creations equally. I-it’s just-... I just don’t understand, why he left.”

Where it hurts most

[quis-deus-similis]

Where it hurts most

@multimusemania

cont’d from: [x]

‘Videtur quod weve tetigit neruum.’

“Oh hush. He’s upset. Don’t make it worse!” She scolded the demon inside of her, not wanting to draw any more of his wrath.

'Es non fun, qui nosti?’

Maria ignored the jab, instead opting to try and get on the angel’s good side again.

“I made a cake if you’d like a slice.”

“I’m not a child, you could pacify with a treat!”, Michael snapped a her. But it was clear, that the worst of his temper had long since blown. The pristine feathers on his wings where still poofed up in agitation, but he had lowered his wings, a sign that his anger was born more from pain and sadness, than any righteous fury.

Finally he sighed and keeping his wings close like a comforting hug, he turned back to her.

“He is not the King of Evil. He is king in hell, yes. But was he the king of all evil, it would mean he held any power over it, over the human’s urge to do evil. But he has no more power over their free will, than we do. So don’t go around repeating uneducated superstitions, as if they were fact. It’s just another way, humans try to wash themselves of all guilt, by claiming, he had any power to make them evil. Just.... just get me that cake, already!”

Hunched on his chair, knees pulled close to his chest, Michael stared glumly at the piece of sugary treat, that was placed infront of him, after a moment of hesitation he finally reached for it. Once the first bite has calmed his inner turmoil a little, he muttered softly, not meeting her eyes anymore:

“Above all, he is my brother. Surely, you understand...”

[quis-deus-similis]

ς

                                              Touch meme| Accepting

It was a sore topic.

He did not like to talk about the fallen angels and even less about Lucifer. But when she so carelessly named him “the king of evil”, as he was so well known as among humans, she touched a wound, that ran far deeper.

In a movement far too fast for the human eye to follow, he was up and in her space. One firm hand on her sternum shoved her roughly against the wall and held her there with frightening ease, as his blue eyes were blazing, boring into hers with an unexpected rage. It took him a moment, to reign himself in again - a frightening, dangerous moment, where the room grew steadily brighter with his unforgiving glow.

Then as fast, as his rage had awakened it was gone - mostly. The room was lit by the headlight only again and he let go of her with a dismissive huff, stalking to his chair and sitting down with his back to her, signalling most obviously, that he considered their conversation as over.

[quis-deus-similis]

Touches are non-verbal forms of communication. So send my muse a symbol, to see how my muse would touch yours, if...

α: ...they are worried about your muse.

β: ...they want to comfort your muse.

δ: ...they demand your muse's attention.

ε: ...they were trying to calm/sooth your muse.

ζ: ...they were angry at your muse.

η: ...they wanted to warn your muse.

θ: ...they are afraid of your muse.

λ: ...they were missing your muse.

μ: ...they want to seduce your muse.

ξ: ...they want to say farewell to your muse.

π: ...they want to convey their love to your muse.

ρ: ...they want to bother/tease your muse.

ς: ...they want to ask for comfort.

σ: ...they want to beg your muse for forgiveness.

My muse will only react with a single touch and will say no word.

[quis-deus-similis]

Holding out the box with cupcakes to Ariel, Michael scowled a little defensive. He did not like, when he was the only one, who apparently did not ‘get it’.

“It’s not my fault, when people these days use a hundred different terms for the same things. What is making out, then? Is it fun? If it’s fun, I don’t mind doing it with you. I like doing fun stuff with you.”

Valentine’s Day Application

[ @quis-deus-similis ]

Name: Michael

Age: Still a lil younger than you… What’s with all those age questions!? >3<

Do you like to cuddle?: Of course, I do!!!

Can we make-out?: Make out what???

A night in or dinner out?: Hmmmm… both sounds nice… how about dinner out first and then long night in???

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?:  Both on a croissant, pls!

Chocolates and roses?: …now I’m hungry.

What makes you a good Valentine?: I’m the personification of God’s love? Also I’m cute. Obviously.

Would you cook for me?: Azrael said, I should write ‘no’ here, because ‘yes’ would be a threat in my case.

Would you let me cook for you?: Ohhhh I love the food you make best!!!!

Where would you take me on a date?: Let’s go to the zoo!!!

Who’s paying?: Uriel?… Azrael just told me, I should be paying, so I guess, I’m gonna ask Uriel for the money first.

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?There’s this really cute pastry shop in Tokio, that makes super sweet Valentines Cupcakes. I bought a dozen and if you don’t hurry up, I’ll eat them all myself!

——————–

“Did you really get Valentines Cupcakes? I want to try one too.. And.. Do you really not know what making out is?”

[quis-deus-similis]

Michael pouted, stretching his arms out at Ariel to urge him on.

“I just wanted to make sure that nobody snatches my cuddle-privileges.”

CUDDLE BUDDY APPLICATION

[ @quis-deus-similis ]

Name: Michael Age: I’m a lil younger than you How well do we know each other?: We’ve been friends since the beginning of time Are you attracted to me? Of course, I am! You re a handsome guy, afterall! And so nice and reliable! And big and strong! And you smell nice!!! Why do you want to be my cuddle buddy? Because I like cuddling with you? What kinda question is that??? Can we watch a movie while we cuddle? Okay, but no scary movies!!! Are tickle wars allowed? If you tickle me, I’ll screech! >3< Are pillow fights okay? Hah! You bet! Anything else? I’m cold and I’m waiting on the couch! Come over already!!!

——————–

“I do think you were my cuddle buddy already before you filled in this application. And alright, I’m on my way”

[quis-deus-similis]

IMPORTANT: Do I owe you a thread?

To make a considerable dent in my drafts again, I plan on scheduling tomorrow, Friday, 19th as an “offline writing day”. Those who know me longer, already know what that’s about. So they can skip the next paragraph and just read the last part. Everybody else get a brief explanation now.

An offline writing day, aka #OWD is when I cut off any internet-communication (that includes disc*rd and IM) and only focus on writing replies for my drafted threads for a preset amount of time (usually 6-8hrs). That usually assures that I get up to 30+ thread-replies done in one day and therefore is a good way for me, to clear out backlog. The replies don’t get posted immediately but set up in a queue, that starts posting the next day. Which is a measurement to avoid getting overwhelmed with reply-spam again.

This #OWD includes all my muses. So I will reblog this post on all my blogs now. In order to speed up the process and not waste time on having to dig through my activity-feed I request your help. Pls send me via IM, or submit, or ask the link to your own last reply, where I’m owing the next reply. Thank you!!!

[quis-deus-similis]

ways to look more angelic:

carry flowers everywhere

pink or gold eye shadow 

wear long ankle dresses

soft humming

have a pink glowy blush

[quis-deus-similis]

angel on fire, halsey

[quis-deus-similis]

Muse as old as time

"I'm far too old for these games."

"What's it like to be immortal?"

"How old ARE you?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand the current slang."

"Do you know how to use a smart phone?"

"I am waaaaay older than you."

"Being this old has pros and cons."

"Do you have any idea what Netflix even is?"

"Did you meet Shakespeare?"

"I was alive when the pyramids of Egypt were built."

"Are you an angel or demon?"

"Humanity has jumped chasms in just the past thirty years. It took at least two hundred years to upgrade from wood to an iron plow."

"I'd rather ride a horse."

"You can't be THAT old!"

"That's simply impossible."

"I remember when stars filled the night sky and cities were practically nonexistent."

"Magic is real."

"Your problems are inconsequential."

"The universe spins, the earth moves and time passes ever on."

"What's it like, being as old as you are?"

"I'm just glad corsets have finally gone out of fashion."

"You can be upset about security measures all you want. I'm happy it doesn't take a month to travel across the Atlantic."

"Are you REALLY immortal?"

"I have seen all of time and space. You know what? It's the little stuff that counts."

"It's the here and now that's important to me."

"Doesn't it ever get boring?"

"I have loved many people over the many years. Each one is special to me."

"Every day brings new things."

"Do you ever want to end it?"

"I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Sometimes I just don't get mortals."

[quis-deus-similis]

Announcement: Official List of Muses

I’m basically done with sorting through my DARP-muses. I deleted a great deal and some got shifted to other blogs. Some muses will only exist as Side-muses from now on. Which means, I will mention them in other muses’ threads, if applicable and other than that, they’ll only be available on request.

To give everyone an overview over which muses I’ll keep and what blogs they’ll be on, I’ll post a list underneath the cut. This list also includes my non-DARP muses. I will rotate this post on all my active blogs. So if you follow multiple blogs of mine, just block the tag #KaiMunSelfReblog.

I still have some things to sort and some rules to add. So I will gradually return to my muses, instead all at once. If you want to play with any of the muses listed below the cut, contact me on the respective blog and we can talk about possible plots.

Weiterlesen

[quis-deus-similis]

Uriel.

Uriel chuckled slightly “ Of course. And we can sit with him as well, get him something too. It’s important to show kindness to those who are in need of a smile and a hand to hold. But I’m sure you know that.” he messes up Michael’s hair slightly, winking as he carried him all the way to the ice cream stand.

Sure Michael was well old enough to walk, Uriel wanted to carry him. He wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer anyways for angels age in spurts and strangely. For all he knew, tomorrow Michael could manifest himself an adult form. It was unlikely sure, but it was still a possibility.

“Alright,” he sets him down “ Pick what you want. “ Uriel reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, handing about $10 to the little glow stick. “You may purchase whatever sort of churned dairy product you want. I will stand over here- smoking because I need one. Also, don’t smoke- it’s bad for you. It will cause all sorts of health problems.” he chuckled a bit pulling out his carton, lighting a cigarette with his finger.

Michael pulled a face, as his dad got the cigarettes out. He really didn't like them. They smelled awful. But he just nodded obediently and then turned to look around, ignoring the ice cream stand for a moment. After a brief moment of searching, he finally found, what he was looking for: The homeless man with the red beanie. Running over to him, much to the shocked surprise of many bystanders, he fished a coin from his pocket and dropped it into the man's cup. Once, he had completed his most important mission, he crouched down infront of the man. Looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, he asked the man for his favorite ice cream flavor.

Only after he had obtained he required information, did the little light bug skip back to the ice cream stand, where he purchased a cone full of toxic blue ice cream for himself and one of chocolate for the man, which he dutiful carried back to him, carefully this time, so he won't drop the ice.

Looking back to Uriel to see if his dad was still smoking, he crouched down by the still somewhat flustered man again and proceeded to ask him myriads of questions, about his life, his favorite birds, his favorite comic heroes, pretty much anything. He was a curious little light bug.

I’m not apologizing for what I said to that jerk

[quis-deus-similis]

Sherlock.

A joke. That was not what Sherlock had expected to hear in response, but it still made her bark out a soft laugh, more of a self-deprecating laugh than an appreciation of the humour. Angels telling bad religious jokes. She never thought she would see the day. But perhaps she could continue the metaphor.

“My therapist told me that joke after I had a similar conversation with her. She said that yes, humanity has its fools who will wait to drown. But some of us have climbed into boats and are even helping guide them to those who need them,” she said softly. “We’re in our bad teenage phase, I think. Rebelling, fighting, hurting ourselves as well as others. I have to have hope that it is a phase. That it would pass. I guess that’s the only parenting advice I would try to give Him. Keep trying and let it pass. We will get our heads out of our asses one day.”

She shrugged. “As for my personal complaints? I quit drinking, I’m in therapy, and once I get a job, I plan to give whatever is left of my paycheque to charity. I’m not sure if I’m in a boat yet, I’m too angry and messed up for that, but I’m trying.”

“That’s all we can do, right? Try? I’m human. Even if we get things wrong, we’re persistent, especially when we’re trying to fix it.”

He seemed as jaded as she was. She was still too cautious to offer a hand to him to shake, and if anything, he looked like he didn’t want to be touched. Otherwise, she would have invited him to the pew to join her.

“I’m Sherlock. Sherlock Donahue. Sorry if I disturbed your church-going experience.”

"I know who you are."

His voice was calm, as he turned back to her. No sign that her assumption, he wouldn't know, might have offended him.

"You're the reason, I'm here. I don't usually enter churches. These buildings are build for the humans' need for worship. My kin has no purpose for them."

Pointing at his glassy counterpart, he added with a bit of a lopsided grin: "The name, your kin gave me is Michael. I use it, ever since you bothered naming me."

He thought a little more on her words, weighed them carefully, to decide whether or not they require a reply.

That’s all we can do, right? Try?

Eventually he sighed and reached for her hand, grabbing it with the confidence of a child. In fact, he pretty much looked like a child holding onto it's mother's hand like this. He really was a small angel.

"You need fresh air and the touch of sunlight. Staying in the dark place is not helping your mood", he stated matter-of-factly, but patiently waited for her to take the lead.

A Divine Meeting

[quis-deus-similis]

“brush”

@multimusemania

cont’d from: [x]

Maria stopped when he stirred, demon half bristling for a split second.

“You were moving around a bit, I figured you were uncomfortable or worried. I’ll stop if you want.” She smiled. In truth, she just wanted to see if his hair was soft or if it was coarse like her sons.

"It's fine."

Michael pouted, but he still did not move away from her hand. He had not even noticed, that he had been restless, but now that it was pointed out, he easily realized the pulse of unused energy, that all to quickly could turn to irritation when mixed with the archangel's quick temper.

"It is not unpleasant. As long, as you don't pull on my hair, I don't mind it. But you should always ask for permission first, before you touch a stranger. Some won't suffer it."

He thought of Azrael and a soft smile appeared on his features. The elder angel would not even tolerate preening done by his brethren. They truly resented touch.