I am fierce and absolute. Those who threaten my Father's word will be crushed. I am a good and loyal son. I do things because they are right and because I have to.
Oh I don’t know, sex, scotch, world peace, you and your brother’s heads on a silver platter. The usual.
"Don’t play games with me," Michael said with a tone that somehow managed to be flat and cold but also leering and acerbic. It was clear he was not intimidated in the least by Crowley. The Archangel stood straight, with squared shoulders, and if anything, the way he glared at Crowley spoke of the way he looked down upon the Demon. "I know you’re here for a reason. Why else would you be standing there? You’re slimy and vile, and nothing you do is without cause of protecting and furthering yourself, in whatever means necessary. So, don’t play me for a fool, Crowley."
Adam sighs in relief as Michael holds him, practically melting. Being around the girls, Dean, none of that made him feel as centered as being near Michael. It hadn’t ever been so bad but just being angry and so violent, enough that Becky and Jo had noticed and called him out on this. But being with the archangel, actually touching him instead of feeling him from a distance, it made it so better. He murmurs something in Enochian, he thinks it’s just ‘hello’, but he’s just suddenly really happy and that’s more than he can say for the past few weeks.
Michael could both sense and feel the turmoil inside of Adam, and it made him tighten his arms around the younger one. As he hugged Adam, he looked off into the distance, seeing but not observing the background. He was focused on his nephilim.
"What’s wrong, Adam?" he murmured softly, "I’m sorry I haven’t been around…but I’m here now…"
Damon laughed. “Really, I’d like to see you try and kill me.”
"Probably wouldn’t do it, myself, but I’m sure my brother in law would happily oblige," Chris answered nonchalantly.
"Who, Lucifer?" Damon laughed again, louder, "He’s gone soft."
Damon’s grin disappeared.
Chris arched an eyebrow and smirked. “Got your attention now?” he said to the demon in the devil’s trap.
"You’re just bluffing," Damon glared, "You’re not gonna call Michael. He doesn’t have time for you. He’s too busy being a fruitcake and kissing Lucifer’s ass."
"You don’t know me, so I’ll tell you this once - I don’t bluff. Ever."
"I dare you," Damon narrowed his eyes.
"Michael," Chris prayed aloud, "Do you have a minute?" He looked at Damon, his face calm and composed. "Shall I keep going?"
Damon continued to glare, not saying anything.
Yes, Michael answered Chris through a mental link, What is it?
"I’m dealing with an unruly demon, about to be two," Chris continued aloud, "Mind playing backup?"
Chris’ only verbal response from Michael was a sigh; he hated dealing with demons. However, a flutter of large, white wings at Chris’ side announced Michael’s physical response.
Damon glanced between them, obviously tense and unhappy about the turn of events.
"Thanks. I know you’re busy," Chris said outloud. Mentally, he added, Don’t kill them if you don’t have to, please. I promised Dylan.
Michael gave a soft, resigned sigh, standing stock still and stoic. He gazed at Damon. “I suppose this means Flynn isn’t too far behind,” he finally spoke aloud.
"He’s on his way, apparently. I’m surprised he isn’t here yet," Chris answered.
"He’s fresh out of the Pit," Michael muttered, "He doesn’t know how to apparate yet."
"Yes, he does," Damon snapped defensively, making a face and furrowing his brows, "Don’t act like you know him. You’re the one who ignored him all his life."
"Don’t start, Damon, not if you want to live to see him show up," Chris warned, "You tried calling what you thought was a bluff already. Do yourself a favor, and shut up."
Damon just growled at Chris, flickering his eyes over black. Michael rolled his own eyes and held up a hand lazily. He exposed his palm, sending Damon into the wall of the devil’s trap with force. The demon was clearly pinned and unable to move, and it looked painful.
"I’ll be the one to decide if what I have to say holds any value," Michael said with a surprisingly calm tone of voice, but it held a dark undertone, "I meant that he doesn’t know how to apparate well.” He clenched his hand into a fist, and Damon’s insides lit up, red veins extending from his neck to his face and making the black in his eyes burn out to reveal the natural eyes of his human suit. The demon made a soft sound of pain. “As for your other comment…” Michael continued, trailing off for a moment, “That’s none of your god-forsaken business, so shut your mouth.” A small flick of the archangel’s wrist had Damon’s mouth snap closed, hard enough to make blood appear on his lips. He had likely bitten his tongue.
Easy… Chris cautioned; though, outwardly, he was completely calm and even bored looking, I did promise Dylan. Though, if he actually shuts up, I could probably kiss you. He hasn’t shut up for two days.
Michael held Damon as he was for probably longer than needed, but he eventually managed to stop himself, letting go of Damon. It was hard, though - the prideful, demon-hating side of him just wanted to kill Damon and be done with it, but he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do in this moment…mostly because Chris was asking him not to.
The archangel lowered his hand and looked away from Damon, off to the side, and Damon collapsed onto the floor, coughing and gasping for breath. A few drops of blood fell from his mouth, spattering onto the concrete.
"Flynn’s going to be here soon…I need to find out what Dylan wants me to do. Hang on, ok?" Chris said to Michael outloud, adding mentally, And thanks.
So, I know you guys have an OOC blog now, but I need the link for it… >.<
…I don’t want to be right. I just. You. Fuck. C’mere, ok? -rushes forward, hugging Michael tightly-
*is taken aback, shocked still for a moment before his arms come around to wrap Adam in a loving, caring, warm, strong embrace. He had missed Adam dearly; that was expressed in his return hug, along with the guilt he was experiencing, as always*
…You’re kidding, right? DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT? Who do you think you’re talking to here?
……I’m sorry…You’re right…
A Thousand Years: Write about a time your character was separated from someone they loved by something that couldn’t be helped.
WARNING: FEELS AND DADDY ISSUES AHEAD!
Michael never understood why God left. Hell, he hadn’t even realized for the first few moments after the fact. It was like one second He was there, and the next, He wasn’t. One second, his Father was telling him what to do and how to act, and the next second, there was nothing but emptiness, silence, despair, and utter chaotic confusion. Hell in Heaven.
Michael hadn’t understood, and at first, it had been easy to convince himself that his Father had just stepped out for a few minutes. You know, He’d be back before midnight; He just needed some fresh air, right?
After a long time, Michael was forced to face the fact that his Father was gone. He had to accept that his Father had left him, and they would be separated forever. He gave up hope of ever seeing his Dad again, and it had hurt like hell. It had left him rotting in despair, and his attitude, disposition, and mental state had suffered because of it.
Michael remembered one time thinking that maybe that was how Lucifer had felt being separated like that - feeling as though he wasn’t good enough, feeling unloved, feeling unwanted - all of it for no good reason, too…and after trying so hard….
It was the first time Michael had really reevaluated things.
Words I Never Said: Write seven things you’ve never said, but have always wanted to.
You don’t have to forgive me.
I don’t forgive myself.
I hate myself.
Father, I doubt.
Don’t leave pleaseeee I love you so much and I love the connection that Dean and Michael have
omg, I literally almost got teary eyed reading that. Wow.
Thank you for saying that.
I messaged you back in my inbox. I love you. <3
This decision has been long overdue and long in process…
Oh gosh, please ignore that I just sounded like Michael there…
Damnit, now I have feels…
I think I should leave.
I’m never on.
I never have any time.
I really love it here. I love you guys a lot.
I really enjoy RPing with you guys…
But it’s not really fair that I’m never able to spend time here….
I thought about trying to work out a schedule of getting on at least once a week to just write replies. Surely, I can work that in…
But what hinders me is feeling like I’m not really wanted and that I don’t have anything good to bring/offer this group…
Dean collapsed to the ground and started applying pressure to certain parts of his face to figure out how bad the damage was. He wanted to fight back. So badly. This dick-head angel couldn’t toss him around like that. But he knew that he needed energy to fight Michael. For now, he just rested on the ground as the angel spoke.
He took several deep breaths and nodded to Michael in response to his aggressive spiel and question. “Got it, boss,” he said, obviously dripping with sarcasm.
Michael’s fist balled up again, and his upper lip twitched, as if to bare his teeth.
He was so tempted to continue when he heard the Winchester’s tone.
That tone brought back memories to Michael that he would rather not experience.
He remembered the way such a tone used to affect him coming from Lucifer.
He remembered how he used to punish Lucifer - or any other being - who used that sort of disrespectful, unappreciative tone with him.
He was tempted to feel like he used to about it.
He was Michael, the eldest. He was the lion.
No one could talk to him like that; he was the ruler of H -
He forced that train of thought to stop.
He wasn’t that person anymore.
He had left Heaven, thrown away his responsibilities and allegiances for new ones.
Unlike Dean, he had grown out of that “righteous” attitude.
He was different, while Dean was just the same, as always…
Or so it seemed to Michael.
Vessel and Angel had long since forgotten one another.
"Good," he simply replied, calming himself again. He stood up, leaving Dean laying on the asphalt. His gaze and expression was that of the cold, emotionless angelic being he was.
He stared at Dean for a long moment, weighing his next decision, before going with it and stepping back over to the man’s side. He lowered himself down onto one knee next to Dean and touched his forehead with two fingers, healing him of all of the ailments he had caused.
"It means nothing to you," he said, "but I’m sorry."
Jo took a deep breath and started combing her fingers through his feathers, gently straightening them and smoothing them into place. She was glad his back was to her, since she knew she was still blushing. But Michael was important to Adam, and she needed to make an effort, despite her wariness of angels. She wracked her brain to come up with some line of conversation, but came up empty. “So… is this okay?” she asked finally, referring to the way she touched his wings.
Michael couldn’t help the shiver that ran up his spine at the way her fingers combed through his feathers. It was a familiar feeling, but it had been so long since he had experienced it that it gave him the chills. He could feel each feather separate and briefly stand on end by the quill. It felt good, and he found himself closing his eyes.
"Yes…" he answered softly, "Thank you…"
He was actually feeling grateful that she had asked to help him.
Baby simply nodded and leaned against the wooden table, resting her chin in her palm and letting out a soft sigh. There was something about Michael that made her uneasy, but she tried to look past it. The way Adam spoke of him made her think that maybe he wasn’t so bad.
“I’m alright. Bored,” she shrugged before looking up and meeting the angel’s gaze with curious blue eyes. “And you?”
Michael nodded. He had become very familiar with the term “bored,” as of late. He had gone from nearly constantly being busy to almost never having something of certainty and purpose to do…and still, he managed to be distant…
As she spoke again, he brought his eyes back to her blue ones.
"I’m fine," he answered, "But perhaps we can ease each other’s boredom."