#Michifer

[quietwingsinthesky]

I just think it’s romantic to be possessive over someone’s death. No one gets to kill you but me. I want to hold you as you die. Your last breath should mingle with mine. I want your blood on my hands because I’m the one that spilled it.

[aliveafterparadise]

Michael: Okay, let me just get this straight -

God: You are definitely not straight but okay, go ahead.

Michael: You want me to be the vessel through which I dispense Divine Justice, a taxiarch, and a psychopomp delivering souls to the Inferno all at the same time?

God, smiling: Correct!

Michael: That's like three job titles in one. What's the compensation for my labor?

God: Well, I'm God! Sooooo your payment is living in Paradise for etetnity where your every need is met and you get to luxuriate in the simplicity of living! Um, so long as you do my bidding at any time I ask and don't question me too hard or all the time about it.

Michael:

God:

Michael:

God: . . .what if I throw in my intelligent, beautiful femboy son that is halfway to being unhinged and will worship you like you're me as long as you do the same for him?

Michael:

God:

Michael, putting on the armor and grabbing the Flaming Sword: Hi, I'm Michael, I'll be your Heavenly Host -

[woundlingus]

Rent lowering gunshot but I need you to answer me this because on god I cannot come up with an answer to this and I’ve always been curious what the consensus is, I just love to make angels submissive by trade too much to pick, so you gotta make this choice for me

[kirathehyrulian]

❄️WinterNatural❄️

🌿Angelic Mistletoe🌿

| Ao3 Collection | Ao3 Art Post |

Prompt: Any SPN and/or SPN RPF pairing getting kisses under the mistletoe. The type of kiss they get is creators choice. (e.g., fluffy, dark, gen, romantic, kinky, etc.)

Description: Lucifer!Sam laid on a plush decorated altar getting mistletoe kissed by Michael!Dean in church on a snowy night.

For more stuff from me please check out my “myart” tag here on Tumblr or my AO3.

👇( wip screenshots below the cut) 👇

For more detailed art notes go to the ao3 post [here]

[dailymichifer]

[cloverthegrand]

@rareomens

Day 1: Michael x Lucifer

I headcanon that Lucifer designed the secretary bird after Michael. She loves it <3

[sticky-bros]

Eric Kripke has ordered a hitman on me for revealing this, but in the SPN universe, the Big Bang happened because Lucifer and Michael had sex for the first time. Yeah, the sheer cosmic force of their brother-fucking actually set all of reality in motion.

[marigarb]

My boys

[riderofblackdragons]

Day 23: Natural Disaster

Here we go! Back to Supernatural for this one bc I had ideas, and a little au that I think fits in here nicely! This one is called In The Cage (What Secrets Are Hidden), and its a crossover with Good Omens bc I like that!

This is also referenced Lucifer/Michael, so if that's not your thing, just don't read! And again, like the last one, I maintain that angels are genderless without a vessel, so as there's no vessels here... Lucifer and Michael are both they/them, and the child is an it bc I found it easiest to write like that. And also I didn't think Lucifer would refer to the child by a gender until they were sure said child was going to survive, which seems smart to me.

Hope you enjoy!

Every so often, an earthquake would rock the cage. Not a big one, they’d faced much worse down there, but enough to be noticeable. Enough to cause panic in the citizens of Hell below, those that could see the cage swinging in the shock waves.

Their child was enjoying it, at least. They could feel the little one’s excitement, every time they felt the rumblings throughout the cage. Lucifer could tell, when their child came out, they’d be making waves just like the ones they were enjoying so much right now.

It was from the left over traces of its sire, they knew. Their strongest memories, the ones they’d clung to after their Fall, were the ones before they’d even had a name, when it was just them and their elder and their parents, the Light and the Darkness. When they hadn’t needed to be precise with their emotions, when a mere expression of happiness had been enough to wipe out an entire planet.

Lucifer could tell their child was picking up on it, slowly but surely. It was already making little waves in their grace, whenever it wanted to let its bearer know anything. It would do wonders, when they were out of here, and Lucifer wondered if their mate, their life-partner, would recognise their child’s methods as theirs.

They doubted it. Michael had never been one for much introspection, and they would probably scorn the existence of Lucifer’s child, no matter that it was theirs as well. Even though the way it expressed itself was so alike to the way they had Before.

Here, there wasn’t much to do. Lucifer could teach their child about control, about self-restraint, so they didn’t become uncontrollable when they were out. They knew, regardless of how they left the cage, they would need to hide, and their child needlessly destroying things because it couldn’t express itself any other way would be a surefire way to be discovered immediately.

Already, those loyal to Lucifer had reported back about the state of their Father’s prized planet, Terra, and the way these increased disasters in Hell were affecting it. Volcanoes, although small enough to not be detected by the little monkeys up there, were popping up at an alarming rate.

Of course, Lucifer felt proud of their little one for it. They looked forward to when they could escape, could teach their child about the wonders of the heat, how good it felt to dive into a pool of plasma, or lava, how it was to be able to fly as high as they wanted without any limitations.

But they, and by proxy their child, would need to leave, first. And it wasn’t looking like that was happening any time soon, not when their loyalists didn’t want them to leave when their True Vessel hadn’t been born yet.

Well, they could wait. It had been a few millennia already, since they were shunted down here, and they were patient. They’d had to be, for so many of their plans to work out. Michael wasn’t stupid, and neither were their parents. It had taken time, even after they’d had the Mark placed into them, to arrange for their little schemes, and even longer to wait for those schemes to finally come to fruition.

Even now, they were patient, letting their little one take its time to come out. Despite how furiously it liked to move inside their grace, Lucifer knew that it wasn’t yet ready to come out of them just yet. It was okay. They could understand not wanting to be separated, they weren’t particularly looking forward to the day their little one came out either.

And yet, despite its long stay inside its bearer, the little one didn’t seem to be all the patient. It was constantly sending its little ripples, asking questions that fizzled out before they could understand them. If Lucifer wasn’t carrying it, they would’ve wondered how it was even theirs, with this trait from its sire prevailing over everything else.

At least, they could comfort themselves, it would help them get out, once it was ready. They knew of the Antichrist prophecy, about how it would let the Devil (them, supposedly, although most days they didn’t really feel like a devil) out of Hell. But Lucifer wasn’t willing to go after any but their life-partner, even if said partner had thrown them down into the cage to begin with, so this fledgling in their grace would have to be said Antichrist.

So clearly, their fledgling was going to have to love them, before they helped it get itself a human shell, so it could go masquerade on Terra. Before it brought all of Terra crumbling down, and set them free, naturally.

Centuries later, looking across the airfield at their son, as he told them firmly that they weren’t his father, all Lucifer could feel was pride, even as they were sent back down into their cage. Their son was finally holding his own.

[ohmrdevil]

wanna practice my english and do some roleplay, so looking for people who might be interested in supernatural rp.

i mainly play as lucifer. don’t mind you playing any other characters that exist in the fandom from popular ones (like michifer or samifer) to extremely unusual ones — diversity is my everything. don’t mind oc’s either.

i am very flexible, i play in any size (from semi-role-playing to full-fledged plot role-playing branches), genres and ratings. i mostly play slash and gen, but can also do het or even femslash (if there are people who would like to stuff lucifer into a female wessel, i don't mind at all).

i'll leave a few of my favorite pairings in the tags if there are people who want to play them, but i don't mind playing pairings with any character really.

hit me up in the dm’s if interested and we’ll figure something out. :)

my discord: ohmrdevil

[frumious-bandersnatch-ao3]

Prompt: apocalypse, murder-suicide

The Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End; the King of Kings, the Light, Lord of Lords, Abba, YHWH, Elohim … Charles Shurley sat down behind His typewriter, and began to draft a set of notes. On the coiling branches of Everything, a universe split off and began to take form. 

His first sketches of first drafts are always messy: bullet-point plot and jumping off points.

Sam’s ‘yes’ assured; as normal

Dean’s ‘yes’: Golden Room, last resort, desperate, Zachariah alive, Castiel dead. Permanent.

Stull Cemetery, both sets of brothers made whole; flesh and grace and soul. Lucifer in white, Michael in something fitted and regal, muted tones, tailored to Dean in the way clothes have never been tailored to him before. 

They love eachother.

Chuck took a pause there, and stared at the words on the page for a few minutes; brow creased and eyes narrowed behind His reading glasses. Of course they loved each other. They were created that way, both pairs; grace calling to grace and soul calling to soul. And of course, if it went how originally designed, like it should have gone in the first place outlined after the Fall, one would kill the other. But He was doing something different here, and… He could see it taking form now.

Lucifer in Sam, dressed in white, and even though it had rained a few days previous, the graveyard mud refused to cling to his brogues. Though it wouldn’t be visible to any man, were any man to actually be blessed with the sight of the final event of the End of Days, his wings (though they would be so intertwined, by this point, Lucifer and Sam, so really-) their wings would be outspread behind them. 

White and glistening like fire opals, the beauty inherent in their design almost masking the fact that they were stained with blood and bent in a million wrong angles and still smoking from the Fall. They would arrive first, waiting, staring down at the grace-formed blade in their hands. It would have been eons since Lucifer last touched his own blade… Chuck imagined that touching it, for him, would have set a pit in his stomach. Knowing that things were final, that he had the full chance and ability to kill his brother laid out before him. Sam would comfort him. Remember, he would murmur, in the shared space of their mind, we can all just walk off. He’s going to listen to you. I know he will. Because Sam would be thinking of his own brother, and Lucifer would know… of course, he would know that Dean Winchester and Saint Michael the Archangel, Viceroy of Heaven, for all their designed similarities, were two different beasts entirely. 

Michael in Dean would arrive with a sound like thunder; eyes shining a brilliant icy blue. Their shoes– pointed oxfords in a deep chocolate brown, with a slight heel– would sink into the mud. Dressed in earth tones; brown, orangey-reds, deep purple, formal wear (the both of them, all four of them, dressed like they were going to a wedding. Chuck wondered for a moment what it meant about him, that he could never imagine Lucifer in anything but pristine, virginal white). They would be holding Michael’s lance in one hand, his blade in another, and their wings like so many swords and spears and daggers fluorescing with the colors of dusk and twilight would flare in a sign of dominance. Dean would fret, of course. Michael, please, they’re our brothers, we don’t have to do this, you know we don’t.

But Michael would know… of course, he would know that he’s a good son. And good sons follow their orders, no matter how much it hurts and no matter how much they love what they’re told to spurn. You know that we do. Is all that he would tell Dean in the frantic silence of their shared mind.

The two, the four would approach, slowly bridging the small gap between them. Not aggressive, not hurried… they would have all the time in the world, after all. Their actions would decide when that hourglass would run out of sand. The fate of everything in the universe decided in a small cemetery in Kansas, on a particularly sunny day after a strong rain a few days before. The air would smell like mud and growing things and the wilted flowers left beside so many graves. 

“Michael,” Lucifer would murmur, voice soft and lilting; silver tongue and Sam’s perfect throat. “It’s good to see you.”

Michael would dip his head in a mockery of deference. “Lucifer,” he would reply, Dean’s voice cracking around the second syllable. “It’s been too long.” And he would mean it, desperately. It has been too long since I last saw you, it has been so long since I’ve seen your grace, since it has been so close to mine, do you remember what you threw away?

“Can you believe it’s finally here?” Lucifer would say it as if it were almost amusing, wishing that it were heaven again and they were standing together in Eden, when everything was beautiful and they would twine grace in grace and glory, glory, glory.

“Yeah,” a scoff, “not really. …You ready?” Chuck had written this conversation a hundred million times over. The silence in the graveyard, nothing but the wind whistling. Two brothers who loved eachother bound to duty by the chains of fate; echoes of God and Darkness and Cain and Abel on and on and on forever, glory, glory, glory, Lord God of Hosts, a perfect story… 

“-and why make us fight? I just can’t figure out the point.” Sam’s face wouldn’t be stoic, here. Brow slightly wrinkled, eyes watering just slightly, even Chuck wouldn’t be able to piece out whether it was Sam or Lucifer making the expression, the distress so visceral and needing and painful.

“What’s your point?” 

Chuck closed his eyes. Needed to finalize, before he really put it to words. They love eachother.

They would end up in each other’s arms. Michael’s lance dropped abandoned to the grass, to the mud. Michael in Dean’s face buried in the crook between Lucifer in Sam’s neck and shoulder. Dean would be crying. Lucifer, would, too, resting his hand between his brother’s shoulder blades and hearing the hitch of his breath. “I love you,” both of them, all of them, would say it like a prayer.

“I’m sorry,” both of them, all of them, desperation and horror and finality.

Twin blades into twin backs, twin explosions, supernovas of grace; twin sets of wingprints burned black into the ground.

[aliveafterparadise]

God: Alright, son, here's the court of angels! I pulled all kinds out of the fire, most of whom are well-adjusted and will rarely give you problems! There's Raphael, Gabriel, Auriel - Lucifer: That's nice, Father, but do you have a brooding jock-goth who will tell me what to do all the time and have a borderline unhealthy obsession with me the way I will him? God: Lucifer: God: Lucifer: God, sighing and half-gesturing to Michael: He's in the fucking back singing Three Days Grace, go get him

[woundlingus]

Considering the body horror on the side of Lucifer, being this uknowable cosmic being who’s so large and so powerful and known as the most beautiful of all angels, and the only way you’ll ever seek justice for the wrong doings made against you is if you squeeze your body into the foreign shape of the thing thing that cost you everything to begin with and suddenly you’re small on a huge playing field and when you look at your brother for the very first time in eons you observe him through the eyes of a human who can’t even begin to perceive all the light and colour and beauty and so you look at this person you loved and they look back at you with mortal eyes and neither of you see each other for what you really are because God has decided that you should both be cloaked with an emotional blindfold on so that you can cut one another down without the baggage of your feelings, and every word out your mouth is so painfully true and you hope Michael will understand and see reason but it comes out too hard in this human mouth of yours and your brother cannot hear your song of grief and mourning and love.

Some child from Minnesota tells you he’s going to kill you, and your chest hurts with the pulling of muscles you don’t know how to name. You can’t possibly understand that’s your mortal heart aching.

[heavenssexiestangel]

Six Sentence Sunday - 09/04/2023

Writers: post (approximately) six sentences from something you’re working on. If you aren’t ready to do that, add six sentences to your WIP.

So, it's Sunday again! This means I'm going to share a snippet from one of my WIPs. I asked around what they wanted to see, and, in the end, I'm going with Michael/Lucifer/Dean.

This snippet is from a story for last year's Kinktober but the part I chose is completely SFW.

Enjoy

Michael smiled fondly at Dean as he cupped his face with his hand.

The human leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. He was sitting on the bed, hands in his lap, and was waiting for orders from Michael and Lucifer.

Dean craved touch and reassurance more than anything else, and it had been a rough path before Michael or his brother understood that.

Michael didn’t think their arrangement would work at first, but thanks to Dean Winchester he had his brother back and two people to love. He kissed the top of his human’s head. He would be eternally grateful to Dean for this. And he would be eternally grateful for his love, too, for Dean’s trust and care were a gift he had never dreamed of receiving.

Tagging: @nickelkeep @rubifer @ladyknightskye @synesindri and anyone else who wants to do it!!!

[dailymichifer]

I believe Lucifer is genuine when he asks Michael to walk off the chessboard together in Swan Song... And in the script, it's clear that Michael hesitates and wants to say yes.

He refuses because he remembers his duty as a "good son", but I think there's another reason: he doesn't think Lucifer is truly capable of giving up his plans for a chance of being reunited with Michael. Surely, he has to be bluffing.

After all, he wasn't able to give up his rebellion against God even if that meant they would be separated. His love wasn't enough to make Lucifer stay. Why would it be enough now, after all this time?

Lucifer doesn't see things that way. To him, Michael is the one who rejected him. He asked him to join him and Michael beat him down. This makes this second rejection all the more painful, as Lucifer cast his pride aside to beg him a second time...

[cloverthegrand]

@rareomens

A redraw of this artwork <3